Scarlett and Rhett: per aspera ad astra
by Amaranthe Athenais
Summary: The story follows the movie version of GWTW. It is a long epic. There are many twists and intrigues here, including poisoning, murders, deceits, and espionage. The plot is sensuous, dramatic, emotional, unpredictable, cloak-and-dagger, dense with layers of historical information. THE STORY IS RECOVERED NOW. YOU WILL NEED TO SUBSCRIBE ONCE AGAIN.
1. Chapter 1

_This is my first attempt at Fanfic. I love Scarlett and Rhett's story, and I decided to write a story to GWTW. Any reviews are welcome, including good and bad. I truly hope that you will enjoy my story._

_This is the story to the movie version, and there are no Wade and Ella in the story. I plan to add Wade and Ella in this story once I am done with the whole story. I just cannot do this now because I am writing quite complicated things and events in the story now._

_The story is divided into five logical parts – Act I, Act II, Act III, Act IV, and Act V. Each Act includes twenty five chapters._

_Act I sets the background and the framework of the whole story and is devoted to the events following the end of GWTW when Rhett left Scarlett on the day of Melanie's death. Act I starts on the day of Melanie's death and ends in Chapter 25 of the story._

_Act II includes the beginning of the main intrigue, but not the pinnacle of the whole story. It starts in Chapter 26 and finishes in Chapter 50. This is the Act of emotional unrest for heroes and the time they begin to look at their life from another angle, which happens in the second half of Act II. Throughout Act II, you will be flying from hell to paradise and back to the sinful Earth as it is really emotional and very unpredictable, especially the events between chapters 35 and 50._

_Act III is about the reflection of the past life and the life contemplation, accompanied by some other intrigues. In addition, there is much reminiscence of the past by the heroes in Act III. Act III starts in Chapter 51 and includes 25 chapters. Act III will finish in August 1876._

_If Act III is an act of the life contemplation and the reminiscence by the heroes, Act IV will be the Act of action when, but not the culmination of the whole story. Only one mystery will be revealed there – Pierre Robillard's dreadful mystery. The emotional roller coaster in Act IV is similar to that in Act II. Now only a half of Act IV is ready._

_In Act V all the intrigues will be unveiled, while the old mysteries will be revealed. The main villain of the story will come as an unpredictable, unbelievable character. The identification of the arch-villain happens in the second half of Act V._

_Please be aware in advance that the story is very unconventional. It is not a pure sweet, happy story. In many aspects, it is a dark, even very dark story. There will be some harsh, emotionally difficult chapters, very depressing chapters. There are also light, happy chapters. Of course, in addition there are many transitional chapters of neutral emotional background. The overall background of the whole story is very mysterious._

_In this story, Scarlett left the Old South of the United States and traveled to London. As Rhett divorced Scarlett at the beginning of the story, she got married to a rich French nobleman whom she met on the board of the ship as she was going to London. It was a marriage in a name only, which was necessary just to cover the disgrace caused by Rhett's actions. Scarlett and her new husband relocated to Paris where Scarlett continued residing after her husband's death in the middle of Act I. In France Scarlett met many of her French relatives from the Robillards and liked them, while they liked her. Soon Scarlett traveled back to the Old South as Mammy was sick and dying. Then she again left the South and came back to France. Soon, in Act II, in Charleston and in Europe all the mysteries and the intrigues began to weave._

_What happened next, you will know as you are reading the story. _

_The murders begin at the beginning of Act II in Atlanta and then in London. Later another tragedy happens around the Butler family in Charleston as several people are killed by one of the villains in the story. Another tragedy will unfold among the French Robillards in Act IV and Act V._

_What you must know in advance is that neither Scarlett nor Rhett would be dead by the end of the story. However, they will have to deal with many mysteries and struggle against the main villain. In the meantime, I won't tell you whether Scarlett and Rhett will be together in the end. _

_There several villains in the story. One of these villains is identified in Act II. In Act V, the arch-villain, a perfect shadow, and other villains will be detected. _

_There are many real historical events in the story. These events are organically embedded into the general story line. This story is also the story about the English and the French aristocracy, including both its light and dark sides. In the story the typical life of aristocrats is also portrayed in details as they spent much time at balls, routs, private parties, and card-parties. _

_Scarlett's life in Europe is shown in vivid, rich colors of an aristocratic lady's life as she managed to integrate herself into the high society of Europe with the help of her French relatives from the Robillards, including her friend and her French third cousin Annabelle de Robillard and the Duke of Aylesbury, who is the representative of the Robillard noble house among English aristocrats. _

_Many surnames and a lot of French and English titles are real. In many cases I used the surnames and titles that turned extinct before 1840 at least because I have no right to take the family with the existing title in 1870s and invent my own story. _

_Some characters, like Marie Esme Patrice Maurice de Mac-Mahon, 1st Duke de Magenta and the President of the Third Republic of France, are real historical people._

_The story is very detailed. It includes many descriptions of feelings in various forms – from despair to happiness. This story also includes many rich descriptions of the male and the female dresses of the Victorian era, as well as the descriptions of the exteriors and the interiors of the houses. _

_In my story, I am implicitly assuming that grief and sorrow changed the mindset and behavior of the main heroes of GWTW considerably, but deep inside they are still the old Rhett and Scarlett, who must learn from their past mistakes in order to proceed to their future and become wiser and happier._

_Throughout the whole story, I am trying to show the evolution of thoughts and feelings of heroes. You may notice that there are relatively large paragraphs about Rhett and Scarlett's internal thoughts, musings, and feelings, very descriptive and rich in language of various kinds._

_This is a story about two so much alike people – Scarlett and Rhett, two blackguards with unique qualities of character. This is a story that tells us that so similar people can be happy if they are in union and that they can be so unhappy if they are struggling against each other and torment each other. I also intended to show that being too much alike not always eases personal relations and even makes them more complicated._

_The story also shows how Rhett and Scarlett learn lessons, sometimes very cruel and hard, but necessary to eventually let their love rise from the ashes above tragedies and perishing world, of course, on condition that they find ways and strengths to do that._

_While you are reading the story, you might think that at times Scarlett and Rhett are acting a little nontraditionally. Perhaps, it is so. I tried not to make them out of character, but each author has his/her own style. As for me, I wouldn't write a story only from Scarlett's perspective like Margaret Mitchell wrote her great book only from Scarlett's point of view. It is not my style, and everybody writes for his/her own pleasure in the first place. Take into account that I am assuming that numerous tragedies and sharp pain change the person's character and life style. Moreover, Scarlett is growing up and, of course, her life is influenced by European trends. In Act III you will see that fundamentally we are still dealing with the old Rhett and the old Scarlett, but in their gown-up versions. _

_This story is a combination of drama, romance, adventure, detective, mystery, and tragedy. The plot will twist many times throughout the story. The intrigues include poisoning, murders, deceits, and espionage. Although there are several villains in the story, the main villain will be identified only in Act V and will come as a very unpredictable character. The plot will keep readers on their toes throughout the whole story._

_There are three main components in the story - the love component, the friendship component, and the mystery component._

_In terms of the love component, there are three lines in the story: the love story between Rhett and Scarlett – the main line; the love story between Annabelle, Scarlett's third cousin from France and close friend, and Annabelle's only true love François; the love story between Philippe Robillard and Ellen Robillard O'Hara as a shadow line in the story._

_Of course, Scarlett and Rhett's relations are central in the whole story. Annabelle and __François_'s love story is on the second plan, but is also very important: it is beautiful and very tragic. I also wanted to give Philippe and Ellen's tragic love story here, but it doesn't go throughout the whole plot of the story.

_The friendship component of the story relies upon the relations between Scarlett and Annabelle, Scarlett's French third cousin from the Robillards. Throughout the whole story there is the line that Scarlett and Annabelle are helping each other in various situations. I have always wanted Scarlett to have such a confident and a good friend like Annabelle who likes Scarlett as a personality and understands her true nature. I think that Melanie Wilkes never understood Scarlett completely, although she had loved her dearly._

_The mystery component is about the poisoning and the espionage. The poisoning line is introduced into the story at the beginning of Act II when the murders begin. Later, the poisoning theme comes through the whole plot starting from Chapter 35 of Act II. I agree that a theme of the poisoning can seem to be rather unusual. However, I am not using the poisons which don't exist as I am always referring to the Medici and the Borgia poisons in the story. I am trying to justify everything I use in the story._

_The espionage line becomes evident in the second half of Act III, although it had always existed in the story - it was just invisible, with some given hints and hidden assumptions. I might confess that the idea with the espionage component of the story came to my mind when I had read the memoirs of one French nobleman who used to be Napoleon I's agent in Italy. I can confess that I took one idea from those memoirs, and that was the idea of who is the main villain in the story. Those memoirs were never published and are only privately owned by my French relatives. Of course, I am not calling any names._

_Scarlett and Rhett's relations might improve and might worsen throughout different chapters of the story. Act III will be the critical time for their relations as they grow up and see their mistakes from the new angles. I think both Scarlett and Rhett need this. _

_At the beginning of the story you will have several new characters. Firstly, Scarlett meets the rich French aristocrat through and through - Mathieu Paul Louis de Harlay de Champvallon, 13th Marquis de Bréval, who will become Scarlett's husband in a name only in order to save her from disgrace caused by Rhett Butler's actions in the aftermath of the divorce and who dies in Act I._

_Scarlett also met Annabelle Françoise Julienne de Robillard de Bréveaux, Countess de Morville, who was her third cousin and whose life story was very similar to Scarlett's. Annabelle's life was even more tragic than Scarlett's._

_Next, Scarlett also was introduced to the mysterious, very rich, infamous English aristocrat Philippe Justin Robillard-Arden, 8th Duke of Aylesbury, who was the Robillard by blood on his mother's side._

_These heroes, as well as other heroes, have their own mysteries, many of which are hair-raising and tragic._

_Annabelle's life story is very tragic, and her mysteries are quite shocking, connected with the main mystery in the whole story - the poisoning and the espionage components. What you must know is that Annabelle is a true friend to Scarlett and she loves her dearly._

_The mystery component is connected with the Duke of Aylesbury whose life comes to the first plan in Act III. He will play an important role in the whole story and in the unveiling of the whole intrigue with the poisoning and the espionage._

_Marquis Mathieu de Bréval also has his own mysteries, which are revealed at the beginning of Act IV and will have some influence on Scarlett's life._

_In this story, even old Pierre Robillard, Scarlett's grandfather, has his own mysteries, and you will understand what Pierre had been keeping in secret in Act III. Pierre Robillard dies at the very beginning of the story._

_Many heroes from the original GWTW will appear and disappear in various parts of the story. Some of them die._

_As you are reading this story, it seems that you are wandering in a gigantic maze. You are going to one exit, but it is incorrect. Then you are again trying another exit and as a result you are making a new mistake. Then the same is continuing over and over again. And finally you arrive to the correct conclusion only in Act V._

_In the story, you will find a lot of real and imaginary history of the Robillard noble house in France. The history of the Robillard noble house and its origin are historically correct. However, I supplemented those things in my story because in reality the title of Count de Bréveaux, which was held by the Robillards in France, turned extinct in the beginning of the 19th century. You may find the Robillards' overview interesting and useful, especially given the fact that in Act III and later Act IV a lot of the Robillards will appear._

_Take into account that the story is still in progress._

_Undoubtedly, I don't own GWTW, and all the characters are owned by MM and her estate. In addition, some heroes were introduced into the story by myself._

_Hope you will enjoy the story._

* * *

**Act I**

**Chapter 1**

**Reminiscing the past**

It was a very gloomy morning of August 1874 in Paris, cold and rainy despite the summer. However, it was cold not only in the sense of the weather, but also in terms of the emotional emptiness that had been filling Scarlett's heart and soul completely since that fatal autumn day in Atlanta. On that day the love of her whole love left her alone high and dry, crying on the massive staircase that as she thought was the place where her baby, the only one she really wanted from the beginning, died after her fall. At that time, she was bewildered, surprised, overwhelmed with the newly discovered strong feelings in her heart and soul, while simultaneously she felt burnt-out and devastated. At that time, she wished only to shut the eyes to wake up later and realize that it had been only her nightmare. At that time, she only knew that she had loved her husband Rhett Butler, and only that love occupied her thoughts.

Unfortunately, it wasn't a nightmare, but a real life with its undertone of certain cruelty and atrocity which Scarlett had to face after Bonnie and Melanie's deaths. All what happened with her during several past months seemed to be like a fairy tale or ghost story she could not believe in. Scarlett was lying on the wide bed and staring into the window, trying to believe that death, pain, and sorrow were left behind and her new life is going to be filled with pure joy and happiness. However, it appeared to be impossible to forget and to believe that there is a bright light at the end of the tunnel.

Scarlett still remembered Melanie's funeral in the rainy foggy morning of September 1873, on the next day after Rhett had left her and had offered the divorce as a solution to the problems in their unhappy marriage. All the Old Guard and it seemed as though the whole city attended the funeral to give the well-deserved farewell blessings to the greatest lady in the whole town. Being the most cool-headed ladies, Scarlett and India Wilkes had to take a lead in the organization of Melanie's funeral.

Ashley wasn't himself since the day of his wife's death. He was drinking on the day before the funeral and at least half of the night. In the morning it took a great deal of effort for India and Scarlett to throw cold water to him and make him sober and capable of attending the funeral. Scarlett and India had pleaded him not to drink before the funeral. They helped him to climb out of the bed. They dressed him in the mourning attire. Scarlett shivered in the sight of Ashley in mourning dress as he looked like he had aged for ten-fifteen years in one night.

Aunt Pittypat joined Scarlett and India in their attempts to prepare Ashley for the funeral, trying to persuade him to have something for breakfast, but everything in vain. Unfortunately, before going to the cemetery, Ashley had managed to drink several glasses of whiskey in the library. Scarlett and India had to drag him from the bottle as he appeared to be unable to handle his whiskey. A stab of pity to Ashley was running through Scarlett, and there was no trace of former love. When they arrived at the cemetery, it was evident that Ashley had apparently overindulged himself with alcohol.

Poor Beau was crying, not understanding what happened with his mother. Beau asked Scarlett and India where was his mother and when she would greet him in the morning before the breakfast. When Scarlett and India were preparing Ashley for the funeral, Aunt Pittypat tried to entertain Beau, but she was not on good terms with the children. Later, on the cemetery, Beau was standing behind his father and helplessly clung to India.

Aunt Pittypat fainted twice during the day of the funeral, in the beginning of the mourning procession and on the further commemoration at the Wilkes house. Henry Hamilton had to uphold her during the procession at Oakland cemetery. The Old Guard, including well-known Doctor and Mrs Meade, Mrs Merriweather, and Mrs Elsing, were crying on a nonstop basis. All of them looked at Scarlett accusingly and suspiciously because they probably anticipated that she would continue lusting for Ashley Wilkes who now was a widower. Only Uncle Henry, Mrs Meade and Doctor Meade dropped on Scarlett several sympathetic glances as they witnessed how difficult it was for this strong young woman to stay calm and organize the second funeral in the past months, the first being the burial of her daughter Bonnie.

The Old Guard was searching for Rhett Butler in the crowd, but he didn't come. The fact that Rhett didn't accompany his wife in the funeral procession confirmed the spreading gossips that he had left her. Scarlett noticed the unpleasant glances of the Old Guard, but she ignored them because she didn't care for this sort of nonsense at that very tragic moment of her life. To Scarlett's pleasant and unexpected surprise, India Wilkes wasn't thrilled at any opportunity to bait her in order to show the whole society of Atlanta Scarlett's evil, treacherous person she used to think Scarlett to be. Scarlett guessed what changed in India's attitude to her, but her brain was too much focused on Rhett, Melly, and Bonnie, and she rapidly put that thought aside.

Scarlett was also looking for Rhett in the crowd of town inhabitants, but he wasn't there. Later, she discovered a gorgeous floral basket of red roses on Melanie's grave with the postcard stating something like "_For the greatest lady I have ever known from Rhett. Sleep peacefully in Heaven._" Rhett didn't attend the funeral but had sent the flowers for Melanie Wilkes. She concluded that, most likely, Rhett had left Atlanta and Georgia for Charleston on the day of Melanie's death, right after their final conversation when he had disappeared in the cold fog and left crying Scarlett on the grand staircase of their mansion.

During the funeral, Scarlett was keeping herself in the visible distance from the main crowd of mourners. Scarlett didn't see how Mrs Merriweather and Mrs Elsing approached her from the back.

"Scarlett, it is such a tragic day today," Mrs Merriweather groaned, her eyes swollen from tears.

Scarlett stared at Mrs Merriweather. "Yes, it is," she answered shortly.

Mrs Elsing blew her nose and narrowed her eyes. "Scarlett, there is Captain Butler?"

Scarlett flinched internally. She stared at Mrs Elsing and didn't speak for an instance. Finally, she inhaled and went on. "Mrs Elsing, Rhett was very busy. He couldn't attend the funeral."

What else could Scarlett say? She didn't know where Rhett had been at that moment. It was possible that he had already left Atlanta for Charleston as he said to her during their last meeting. Scarlett didn't know that at the same time awfully intoxicated Rhett had been sleeping in Belle Watling's warm bed in the downtown of Atlanta after his eminent night adventures of drinking himself to stupor near Bonnie's grave.

Mrs Merriweather's face screwed up. "Scarlett, I am so astonished that Captain Butler is not here. Everybody is here and only Captain Butler decided to ignore such a sad event."

"Mrs Merriweather, I am sorry that Rhett is not here now, but he was very busy and had to leave Atlanta. In addition, he felt unwell," Scarlett said. She paused and sighed heavily. "Rhett and I… we are still in mourning…" Her voice trailed off, but she didn't even blink – there were no tears in her beautiful pale green eyes.

Mrs Elsing's face revealed a sort of understanding as Scarlett mentioned Bonnie. "Yes, your dear girl…"

Scarlett raised her hand. "Mrs Merriweather and Mrs Elsing, I am sorry, but I don't want to talk about that now. I would rather be on my own now." She stepped backward from two old matrons. "I am sorry," she added.

Scarlett came closer to the coffin, but farther from Mrs Merriweather and Mrs Elsing as she didn't want to listen to their lamentations and to answer to their questions. As she was leaving them aside, she heard how Mrs Merriweather and Mrs Elsing were discussing the absence of Rhett and Scarlett's possible actions after Melanie's death. Scarlett had a disgusting feeling of disdain to the Old Guard at that moment.

Scarlett's pale green eyes fixed on Melanie's coffin, and that moment she was desperately asking Melanie for forgiveness and absolution of past sins. She was trying to stay calm and wasn't sobbing violently as others did, and the Old Guard interpreted it as one more vindication of her heartless, spiteful nature. Nobody of them, except for Uncle Henry who sympathized to Scarlett and, perhaps, the Meades, never understood and even cared to understand the effort that was lying behind that seeming calmness and absence of tears. Nobody knew that terrible emptiness and pain were inwardly tearing Scarlett apart.

On the day of Melly's death Scarlett realized that Melanie had been her only friend who had loved her wholeheartedly, unquestionably, and unconditionally, and who had always stood at her side. Scarlett felt ashamed of herself in the light of her former actions and treatment of Melanie. A tingle of deep regret slashed through her sick mind, spilling cold in her veins and tissues of her body. There, at the cemetery, all her sensations turned extremely sharp and hardly endurable both physically and mentally. She was afraid to break in front of all these people, some of them being her enemies, and she was shrinking into herself with horror at that thought. No, they would never understand her, and she had had to do her best to control herself.

In the past, Scarlett hated Melanie and wished her death because she considered Melanie Hamilton Wilkes to be the only hindrance to her lifelong ambition – having Ashley Wilkes as a husband. She saved Melanie and Beau's lives during the war only because she promised Ashley to take care of Melanie and their child. Scarlett induced Melanie to support her in her determination to bring Ashley, Beau, and Melanie back to Atlanta under the pretense of the necessity to help her run sawmill. In sober fact, Scarlett cared only for her own wishes because she wanted to keep her beloved Ashley near her. Scarlett ignored that Ashley didn't want to be involved in running mills. Scarlett neither understood nor wanted to understand this man and loved illusion she created in her own mind. She was so selfish in her blind, erroneous feeling to Ashley who, for all intents and purposes, had to her a single physical attraction and, maybe, some sort of strange love, which was apprehensible only to him and covered by the mask of nobility and honor.

"Melanie, my dear friend! My God, you were my only friend! Please, forgive me for not loving and appreciating you. I was a complete idiot who didn't see apparent truths. I love you, Melanie… I know that I am too late to tell you this… You always supported me and cared for me. You had a sort of calm courage and inner strength stemming from your naturally gold heart, generosity, and genteelness," Scarlett pronounced in her mind and added, "I never recognized how I had loved you before you died. Forgive me for this, my darling. Melly, rest in peace… I will look after Beau and Ashley as I promised to you."

A thought of being so similar to her mother Ellen Robillard O'Hara popped into Scarlett's mind at the moment when she was standing near the coffin of her dear friend Melanie Wilkes. Scarlett recalled that once in the war time Mammy told her that Miss Ellen's last words were about her cousin Philippe. When Scarlett asked who Philippe was, Mammy explained that Ellen O'Hara loved her cousin during her whole life. At that time Scarlett was extremely depressed and grieved about the loss of her mother on the back of her death and about the loss of her father as he seemed to lose his mind. Besides, the Yankees were very close and could come to Tara at any time. In addition, there was no food and a threat of starvation was so real. As a result, Mammy's words slipped Scarlett's mind the moment after Mammy had pronounced them, and Scarlett didn't give them much sense. Perhaps, she was too young and empty-headed at that time, and the above was the reason why she didn't take seriously Mammy's words. Now, when Scarlett lost Rhett and so many tragedies happened in her life, she remembered her dear mother Ellen. She reminisced that Ellen Robillard O'Hara had always been a true lady in its best sense. Scarlett also recognized that her mother was always energetic in each area of their life – dealing with her husband, her daughters, the household, balls, and so on. However, she was always so restrained and at times looked as though she had been absent somewhere else in her thoughts. Now Scarlett concluded that the reason of this was that she was abstracted in her thoughts to her real true love – Philippe. Scarlett didn't know the details of the story, but she saw the explanation for her mother's abstractedly restrained behavior and demeanor. Ellen Robillard married Gerald O'Hara who was twenty eight years older than this charming girl. Her mother married her father Gerald and respected him, but never loved him – she loved Philippe Robillard.

Suddenly, Scarlett saw that sobbing Beau was running to her, and she took her in her arms. The rest of the funeral, Scarlett and Beau were looking at Melanie's coffin, and Scarlett was gently holding Beau in her arms, trying to console the boy.

As Melanie's coffin was lowered into the moist ground, Ashley hysterically flung forward, with loud, uncontrollable sobs and squalls of despair. He pleaded Melly not to leave him alone and threatened to jump in the ground with his wife. The Old Guard remained rooted to the ground, and only India and Scarlett, who had to give Beau to Uncle Henry for that moment, rushed to Ashley to stop him.

"Melly, don't leave me! No! No! I have to go down with her…" Ashley was screaming in a shaking voice. He squatted, tiredly lowered his head, his chin on his breathless breast, and positioned himself to jump down after the black coffin.

"Ashley! Ashley! What are you doing?" Scarlett repeated over and over again.

"Ashley, please, Ashley… Don't do it…" India pleaded her brother.

As Scarlett reached him, she stepped forward to the coffin, leaned down, slightly bent her head, and wrapped her hands about Ashley's trembling shoulders. "Ashley, stop immediately!" she nearly begged him and then added in a commanding voice, "You must do it!"

"Ashley!" India called him as she approached the coffin. "You mustn't come to Melly. She doesn't want you to come. She wants you to stay here with Beau." She turned her head, and her eyes locked with Scarlett's green orbs. She said calmly: "Thank you, Scarlett."

"Welcome, India," Scarlett replied, her voice edged with melancholy. "We must take Ashley home."

"Yes," India nodded in agreement.

"No! No!" Ashley screamed. He made an attempt to push Scarlett away. "I want to be with Melly! I will stay here with her."

"Ashley, don't be stupid," Scarlett pressed on. "We will take care of you."

"Melly is calling for me! I will stay here," Ashley moaned. He squeezed his grey eyes shut. "I will stay with her."

Scarlett licked her dry lips. "No, you won't," she retorted. Her voice was uneven.

Ashley rubbed his forehead. "I will stay," he echoed.

"Ashley, you must go home," Scarlett began. "You are battered and bruised. Your face is bloodied. Your left eye is blacked, and some of your fingers are possibly broken. This is what you did to yourself," she paused in uncertainty how to proceed further. "You see we must get you home."

"Ashley," India stated humbly, her voice cracking. "Your clothes are wet. You may catch cold. We must go. Melly would not want you to stay here."

"No!" he cried out, his voice sounding far away, but still a hint of finality ringing in his voice. He swallowed hard, his eyes closed.

However, India and Scarlett's actions didn't awaken Ashley from the absurdity of his actions, and they had to drag Ashley aside from Melanie's fresh grave. In the end, Ashley passed out on the ground, and India and Scarlett asked people in the crowd of mourners to help them take care of Ashley. Eventually, Uncle Henry and Doctor Meade had to carry Ashley's unconscious body right into the carriage, which had been prepared for them near the gates to the Oakland cemetery. Scarlett continued to hold and console Beau, while India helped trembling and sobbing Aunt Pittypat to leave the Oakland cemetery.

Never will she forget Ashley's ash-gray, worn-out, tired face, Scarlett thought with a shudder. Never! She remembered how he had been laughing and had been smiling at her and Melly during the barbeque at Twelve Oaks. At that time, Ashley's grey eyes were dancing with joy and merriment. He was alive. Now, when Melanie passed away, light and flame of life had died from his eyes, and instead of them morbid sadness dissolved there. His eyes were cold and empty. His face hardened and was now like cold, icy steel. He was not Ashley Wilkes Scarlett was accustomed to see. And at the cemetery, near Melly's coffin, his grey eyes were wandering wildly around, and yet they were absolutely empty. Scarlett knew that Ashley hadn't understood what he had been doing: his mind was like that of a caged animal, like that of a prisoner who was sentenced to death and was waiting for his executioner to come to his ward in an hour or so. Scarlett will never forget this terrible picture of Ashley at the Oakland cemetery.

Everybody was looking at this dramatic episode with sincere sympathy to Ashley and even horror because nobody from Atlanta has ever seen Ashley Wilkes, an epitome of the true Southern gentleman, in such a miserable, back-alley view. While they looked at Ashley with compassion, their cold eyes stabbed Scarlett with daggers as though she had been responsible for Melly's death and for Ashley's grief. Why couldn't they see that she was also suffering? Why didn't they understand that Scarlett hadn't killed Melanie Wilkes? The Old Guard knew that Melly had died on the back of the miscarriage when she had lost so much blood. However, in their eyes it was written as though Scarlett had directly been responsible for the tragedy. Why were these people so insensitive to others? Didn't they understand how much Scarlett suffered to live through her numerous life tragedies? No, they didn't even try to understand, but she didn't care.

Scarlett's mind also wandered back to the moment when somewhere in the middle of the funeral she left the procession and went to Bonnie's grave to pray and ask for forgiveness for not being a good mother to her most beloved precious child, a child of the man whom she only really loved in her life and who turned out to abandon her just two days ago. She put the bouquet of white chrysanthemums on the Bonnie's grave, when she saw the second one there. It proved Rhett's recent visit to his daughter's grave not a long time ago. Later, she returned to Melly's grave.

"Bonnie, my dear baby, mommy loves you. You are my angel. You are with me each minute and everywhere. Rest peacefully. I love you and so does your father. Forgive me for not being a good mother to you, my precious. If I ever had another chance to have a child from Rhett, I would do the things differently. My dear baby..." Scarlett was talking to Bonnie and crying soundlessly.

Scarlett remembered that she had fled Atlanta immediately after Melly's funeral and had spent two weeks at Tara. At Tara she was lying in bed in her old room with Mammy on her side trying to console her favorite child. She was crying all the time and, being completely exhausted from tears, usually fell asleep for a short time. Her old nightmare was stalking her restless sleep. Scarlett was dreaming that she was looking for somebody in the fog and couldn't find. The distinction of this nightmare in its latest version was that she saw Bonnie and her dead unborn child in the fog and asked Rhett to help her, but he never came. She tried to follow Melly and Bonnie in the fog, but even if she was successful in her attempt at first, she anyway finally lost her way and turned to be completely alone in the cold, thick fog. Scarlett often woke up with loud cries and cold sweating on her tired face with dark circles under her eyes. She was always in her room, and she didn't care for other people's opinion. She didn't care for the explanations. She cared only for her memories, for her nightmares, and for Rhett, but he wasn't by her side in the bed.

At first, Scarlett hid the fact that Rhett had left her. She didn't say about the reasons of her emotional collapse even to Mammy. Finally, by the end of the first week in Tara, feeling absolutely unbearable pain and urgent necessity to talk, Scarlett told Mammy the whole story, everything in details, and opened her heart to her completely, like never before, because never in her life she had been so devastated and lost, feeling extreme guilt and acknowledging all her sins from the past.

"My lamb, what happened with you? Tell your loving old Mammy," Mammy put her large, caressing hands on Scarlett's back.

"Mammy, Rhett... He left me..." Scarlett confessed.

"When did it happen, Miss Scarlett?"

"It happened on the day of Melanie's death. Melanie asked me to take care of Ashley and Beau and not to tell Ashley that I was doing it for his own good. She also told me that Rhett had loved me. Melly asked me to be kinder to him. And then she died..."

"Miss Melanie was a great woman. Her death is a terrible tragedy," Mammy said grievously.

"I loved Melanie so much, but I realized it too late," Scarlett groaned. She was violently sobbing on Mammy's warm shoulder.

"What else happened, my lamb?" Mammy was genuinely concerned for Scarlett.

"I left Ashley's house because Rhett wasn't there when I went out of Melanie's room. I was running to Rhett through the cold, thick fog, like in my old nightmare... I was running home to talk to my husband and tell him that I loved him from the bottom of my heart and that I realized that I had never loved Ashley... that it was just a childhood dream…" Scarlett stumbled with words as a new wave of hot tears fulgurated her body.

"Miss Scarlett, please continue," Mammy emboldened Scarlett to continue.

"It was Rhett whom I was looking for in the fog for so many years. And I didn't understand it earlier, Mammy. I am such a fool! Rhett... I missed him so much when he and Bonnie went on extended trip to London… And I never told him about it." Tears were steadily streaming down Scarlett's cheeks, and she fluttered down her swollen eyelashes.

"What did Mister Rhett tell you? I know that he loves you, Miss Scarlett. He has always loved you, even when you were married to Mister Kennedy and he still called on you in your house. I was watching him for years and saw his love for you clearly in his eyes, but you never paid attention to it," Mammy said lamentably in an undertone.

Scarlett drew a deep, heavy breath. "Great balls of fire! Rhett loved me since the day we met on that barbeque at Twelve Oaks. I know that I was a fool and never saw it. And he has done so much for me… He was always close to me and helped me, but I ignored him," she lamented loudly and then moaned in despair. Again, a strong tide of tears surged her body, and she began to sobbing at the top of her voice.

"My poor lamb, God will help you. Mister Rhett loves you," Mammy repeated, praying that she was right in her suspicions regarding Rhett. Scarlett gripped Mammy's forearm, and in the new flash of pain her elegantly-trimmed nails were digging into Mammy's skin till it hurt.

"Rhett… Rhett… I want Rhett," Scarlett moaned, appealing to Heaven, her eyes half closed.

"Mister Rhett is not here, my lamb," Mammy's soft voice splashed out. "I am here with you."

Scarlett inhaled deeply, then she exhaled, but no relief came. "Oh my Lord! Please, forgive me for all my past sins. God, please help me get Rhett back…"

"Miss Scarlett, if you had an argument, Mister Rhett would eventually come back. He loves you wholeheartedly. He is just very tired and in chasmal mourning for our small Miss Bonnie and Miss Melanie," Mammy tried to console her favorite child.

"Mammy, he didn't give me a single chance to be with him and to prove him my feelings, my love for him. He said that his love had already worn out because I had destroyed everything. He asked me to grant him a divorce because I don't have any religion left in my heart and my reputation was gone a long time ago. Rhett packed some of his personal things and disappeared in the fog… He said that he didn't give a damn about me."

Scarlett was wiping her tears with Rhett's handkerchief. A blighted silence reigned in the hearing room, broken only by the shuffling of Mammy's feet and Scarlett's sobs.

"Miss Scarlett, Mister Rhett loves you but he is a stubborn mule like you. You are so much alike, and at times it makes you no good," Mammy was shocked and numb from what she had just heard from Scarlett. She didn't expect it from Rhett.

Scarlett's green eyes met Mammy's dark orbs, her voice was cracking and cool. Her heart was in fragments. "Mammy, I destroyed my own life with my bare hands. I lost everything," Scarlett whispered foolhardily through tears.

"It will take some time for Mister Rhett to recover from the tragedy, my lamb. He will never forget you and his feelings will never disappear. Trust your old Mammy," the old woman sincerely whispered lovingly to Scarlett who was trembling from sobs with her whole body.

"No, Mammy, it is too late for me… I am always late... I was late for my mother's last hug before she died and I got back to Tara… I was late for Rhett's love because his love for me had worn out… I was late to tell Melanie that I loved her before she died… Finally, I was late to be a good mother for Bonnie because now she is dead..."

"Stop this, Miss Scarlett. You are incorrect, and you are not too late. Melly knew that you loved her. Bonnie knew it as well, and she loved you. Your mother also loved you. My lamb, calm down, it will be alright in time."

"Mammy, I love him madly… It is a vehement love, unconditional love, both physical and emotional love... I can do everything for him… I love him more than myself…" Scarlett groaned in a low, shaking voice.

"I know it, my lamb… Mister Rhett will come back in the end. Trust me and be patient," Mammy was soothing Scarlett. "Perhaps, he is afraid that you will come to Ashley now… But you won't do it…"

Scarlett swallowed the lump in her throat, the incipient tears. "I don't need his money or status… It is not cupboard love, I swear…"

Mammy sighed heavily. Her mouth went dry. "My lamb, I know…" Then she kissed Scarlett on her forehead.

"I need only Rhett, Mammy! Only him! Only him to be happy!" Scarlett trailed off, tiredness creeping into her body. "If only I could see him again… again… one more time in my life…"

"Then wait and come to him to Charleston. Tell him and prove him your feelings. If he doesn't accept you, eventually he will lose himself without you and in the long run come back to you. My lamb, remember, it will anyway happen sooner or later. You are so much alike. It is your fate to be together." Mammy hugged Scarlett warmly and tightly.

"Mammy, you think that I should chase after him, don't you?" Scarlett asked. She looked at Mammy with bright glazed eyes.

"Miss Scarlett, you don't need to chase after him as you did after Mister Ashley. I think you need to have a heart-to-heart talk with him. If it isn't possible now, then wait for some time and go to Charleston to him and talk to him," Mammy elucidated on her position.

"You are right, Mammy. I will talk to him. He should believe that I love him and was a silly goose, a child longing for the moon. I will come to Charleston to his mother's house," Scarlett suggested, dashing away her tears and breathing in deeply in an attempt to compose herself.

"I hope that Mister Rhett will be a big boy and listen to you. He can also be blamed for the current state of your marriage, Miss Scarlett," Mammy added sorrowfully.

"Everything is so messed up in my life," Scarlett tossed her head.

It felt fabulous and wonderful when Mammy was comforting her. Mammy recommended Scarlett to wait for a while and then go to Charleston to meet Rhett. Mammy advised to talk to him and explain everything from the beginning with only hope that this man still loved Scarlett somewhere very deeply in his heart and soul. Mammy hoped that Rhett simply didn't allow himself to acknowledge his true feelings in order not to be lost and be completely ruined after everything what he had had to live through in the past months. Mammy was sure that Rhett had loved Scarlett and only needed some time to cool off to realize his love for her precious lamb.

"My lamb, you mustn't be like Miss Ellen who…" Mammy's voice trailed off as though she was thinking whether she should continue.

"Mammy, I remember what you once told me after my mother's death, but at that time I was so scared and depressed that I quickly forgot about it," Scarlett commented.

Mammy stared at Scarlett with intensive gaze. "You remember, don't you?"

"Yes, I do remember," Scarlett nodded in agreement. "I remembered it on the day of Melanie's death. My mother loved Philippe Robillard, didn't she?"

"She loved him very much, but he died when he had been very young."

"Poor Philippe! It is a tragedy to die at sixteen or at seventeen," Scarlett mused. She shook her head in horror. "He was so young!"

"Mister Philippe was sixteen years old," Mammy said in a hoarse voice. Her black eyes were yearnful. "Miss Ellen respected your father very much, but her heart belonged to Mister Philippe." The old woman sighed uneasily. She attentively looked at Scarlett.

Scarlett held Mammy's gaze. "Philippe Robillard loved my mother, didn't he?"

"Yes, my lamb," Mammy replied shortly. "This is all that you need to know, Miss Scarlett."

"Mammy, my dear Mammy…" Scarlett said in a soft voice.

"I will bring the tray with meal to your room now. You must eat," Mammy continued.

"Alright." Scarlett nodded in agreement. "I will eat."

"Miss Scarlett, you must finish the meal to the last crumb," Mammy ordered.

"I will try, Mammy."

Mammy paused at the doorway and ordered strictly: "You will eat everything to the last crumb. Miss Scarlett, don't come athwart me."

Before going to Rhett, being at Tara, Scarlett promised herself that she would be honest, even if she was not considered so by Rhett. He was always encouraging her to be selfish, to think only of her own future happiness. If she did that, she would be no better than Rhett himself. Instead, before facing Rhett, she decided that it was high time to think about Rhett and understand how he had been feeling during the time of their extravagant, yet disastrous marriage. Maybe, if she was honest, Rhett would believe her, she mused. But everything turned out to be in vain.

Being pushed by Mammy's assurances that Rhett had still loved her, Scarlett finally decided that it had been high time to meet Rhett face-to-face. In the middle of October 1873, Scarlett finally left Tara for Charleston. She was determined to prove Rhett that she had loved him, not Ashley or Rhett's money, but him, who mocked and teased her, driving her to the boundaries of her own sanity; loved him who helped her anytime she needed him; loved him who comforted her during her usual nightmares. God, how she missed him!

Back to the real world from her memories, to the cold and rain outside of her Parisian mansion, Scarlett quickly left her luxury bed. She approached the bureau where she was keeping her business papers and cherished, meaningful things from her past life. She extracted the folded envelope with the most dreadful, life-changing letter from the bureau. Then she began reading the words, line by line, very slowly in other to grasp and believe again, believe in unbelievable. She knew that she had had to forget unforgettable and forgive unforgivable.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Rhett's farewell letter and "convenient love"**

Scarlett was sick to death of the reality of what Rhett had written in his farewell letter to her. She found the letter together with the divorce papers at her bedside table after she had awakened in Rhett's bedroom at his mother's house in Charleston. Rhett again ran away from her after the night of passion, leaving her with memories and several cold-blooded sheets of paper. That farewell letter hit Scarlett more harshly than an earthquake of the strongest magnitude, entirely shattering all Scarlett's remaining hopes and illusions she had in her wounded heart and soul. Scarlett's old world was ruined in its entirety, leaving her with desecrated, degraded, and taunting deep-soul feeling, the tardiness of which almost dragged her heart away from her chest and granulated it into millions of twiggy, intangible pieces.

_Scarlett,_

_I hope you have really grown up to a true lady your mother has always wanted you to become. My vague hope is that you won't pursue me in the future as you pursued your wooden-headed honorable Ashley Wilkes in the past. In fact, you are free to join your lover in the bed and marry him after the official divorce I still want to grant you._

_I want you to know that divorce is the only thing that can help us to forget about each other and finally somehow forgive each other. Too much happened and cannot be forgotten by just saying sorry. I tried to be kind to you, but you can understand only what is spelled out to you. So I have to do it again: I no longer love you. I don't trust you and I don't need you. As I said, my love has worn out and died with Bonnie._

_My only bona fide intention is to get rid of you as soon as possible. Also, I don't believe in your hypocritical confessions of love for me. You have always been a good actress and will continue to be for your own bad, Scarlett._

_I am very sorry for my actions last night. It was only physical and nothing emotional between us, except for a simple desire of a man for a pretty little girl, not a lady, because you are not a lady in its true sense. You are unlike Melanie whom you hated during your whole life. I have to spell out clearly that I just used you for one night as I had always used pretty girls at Belle's or other establishments of this kind to spend time with. Thank you very much for this night and saved money._

_With this, I ask you to sign the divorce papers that I have left for you on your bed-side table. If you want to be a lady, please, sign them and leave with dignity. I also warn you that if you don't sign the papers and grant me divorce willingly, I will find another way to make you get your hands off me. In this case, you will be left with only what you contributed to our marriage at the beginning, or almost nothing, apart from Frank's store._

_The terms of our divorce settlement I proposed to you are beneficial for you and will satisfy your greediness completely. The money will be transferred to you through Henry Hamilton by the end of next week at latest. Please never try to find me again and write me. Otherwise, I may begin to disdain you and even my pity and kindness will fade away._

_I also hope that you will leave my mother's house as soon as possible. I won't return till the time I know for sure that you left for your own good. Don't provoke new clashes between us, Scarlett, and just leave. It is enough what you have already done. Enough for one hundred men instead of one lovesick fool who was obsessed with you for the past twelve years from the goddammed barbeque at Twelve Oaks._

_I wish you to be very happy with your honorable darling Ashley Wilkes. I am sorry for our unhappy past, which, I recognize, I party caused by my own actions._

_Please, never try to find me again. It is no use and no good for both of us, my pet._

_Rhett Butler_

Scarlett put the letter on the table and started to cry. She remembered that night in Charleston on October 17, 1873, the night which she spent with Rhett in his bedroom as if it had happened yesterday. So many months passed, but memories didn't fade away. She didn't want them to disappear as it was the most majestic night in her life. Scarlett asked herself that question numerous times whether she would be able to forget the contents of this letter, their marriage, and Rhett himself. She had failed to find an answer so far. God help her to forgive her husband for unforgivable and forget him. This letter was so cruel, and each time Scarlett re-read it was as hard as iron for her. She didn't feel hot anger at Rhett as just pain and emptiness and darkness, which surrounded her and were tearing her heart apart. She was emotionally dead inside her heart and soul, drained of almost all positive feelings. The roller coaster of pain and depression attacked her each time she remembered her divorce and all the tragedies from the past.

As she discovered the farewell letter and the divorce papers on her bedside table, she immediately felt all the desperation and strong desire to die at that moment. She realized that the cruel, pitiless reality had been that Rhett hadn't loved her and hadn't needed her. She learnt that he had just used her like a usual whore, whom, she was sure, Rhett had endless numbers to count and remember. Scarlett felt like a dirty whore and at the same time like a child who wanted to have what she cannot have. Indeed, at that time she was a child who had longed for the moon and who had believed in the happy end, which in that particular case was impossible. It was too late for Scarlett to be happy with Rhett. And now Rhett was behind in Charleston, while she lived in Paris.

Scarlett recalled how she took the divorce papers from her bed-side and signed them as though being in extreme desperation and mortification. The papers had already been sighed by Rhett. She had to do it because after all her humiliation and disgrace she couldn't act differently. Scarlett was proud of her actions not only because there was enough degrade of her personality by Rhett, but also because she sacrificed her own happiness in personal life and put Rhett's interests and desires above her own needs. It was the moment when Scarlett recognized her complete defeat for the first time in her life. She was beaten, but definitely not broken woman.

"I signed those damned divorce papers to let Rhett go, if he really wanted to be free from me. I couldn't make him love me again if he had stopped loving me," Scarlett's thoughts were swirling in her head. "My love for Rhett was pure and crystal. When I signed the papers, I was ready to suffer myself rather than I made you suffer."

Scarlett's eyes stopped on the line of the farewell letter in which Rhett repeated that he didn't love her: _"I no longer love you. I don't trust you and I don't need you. As I said, my love has worn out and died with Bonnie." _She was dead for him like Bonnie was dead for both of them. Indeed, she was dead inside after what she had to live through and how she had to suffer silently and lonely. Did she want to be dead and incapable of feeling? No, she didn't want it, but she didn't have any alternative because she needed to move on in her life. Rhett wanted her like a whore or one of his mistresses, as she mused. No other explanation of his actions popped in Scarlett's mind. Only his terrible words that _"it was only physical and nothing emotional between us…" _were remembered by Scarlett.

"Rhett used me like a whore… I am no more for him than Belle Watling is, if not less. He said once that Belle has a heart of gold, while I am a heartless bitch… Oh Rhett… How can you do it to me?" Scarlett cried out and a sharp heartache fulgurated her flesh and blood.

She mused over and over again: "Did I mean so little for him that he hadn't respected me as a mother of our deceased child?"

Scarlett loved him and wanted to believe that he also loved her, but just not allowed himself to say this to her and pronounce loving words. At that night of passion, raw, brutal, and all-absorbing with its genuineness, Scarlett opened her heart to Rhett completely and gave all herself to him in the testimony of her tender passion and sincere love, not demanding something in return. She needed nothing from him, neither his status nor his money. She simply loved him unconditionally and madly, kindly and immortally. She wanted only him and his love. Scarlett will never love somebody else so strongly from the bottom of her heart, and she knew this for sure. Unfortunately, Rhett didn't believe her. But did he try to believe? Did he give a damn about her love for him?

Scarlett's eyes stopped at the following phrase:_"I don't believe in your hypocritical confessions of love for me. You have always been a good actress…" _As it appeared from his farewell letter, Rhett didn't believe her that she finally fell in love with her husband and loved him more than her own life. He claimed her to be playing a role, maybe like a trashy, but skillful actress. He thought that she was lying to him to take advantage of his money and status. But she wasn't lying because she was ready to give up and sacrifice everything, including all her money, authority, status, and even Tara, if she had one single chance to reconcile with her husband and return their silken tie. Nothing mattered in this life if she didn't have him.

In accordance with the letter, Rhett was sure that after the divorce Scarlett would marry Ashley or at least transform their affection from pure spiritual to physical one. Rhett also said clearly that he didn't want to see her again. "_I hope that you won't pursue me in the future as you pursued your wooden-headed honorable Ashley Wilkes in the past. In fact, you are free to join your lover in the bed…" _was replaying in her tired brain as she was reading Rhett's farewell letter. No, Scarlett didn't pursue him and did as he wished – she signed divorce papers and disappeared from Charleston, looking recklessly for her fragile, perishing peace and emotional balance, despite Rhett's actions and treatment driving her to the brink of physical and spiritual collapse. Scarlett was always a poor liar for him, and Rhett always knew when she was telling him the truth, even the bitter truth when she was proclaiming and apotheosizing her undying love for wooden-headed Ashley Wiles. However, Rhett Butler failed to discover the sincerity of her feelings and her intents relative to their relationship. Alternatively, Rhett could fail to do that because he indeed didn't need her and didn't love her and thus wasn't interested in her confessions. It was too difficult to understand and to analyze for Scarlett who wasn't very analytical and contemplative by nature.

Scarlett re-read the sentences of the farewell letter in which Rhett mentioned her mother Ellen and Melanie Wilkes many times: _"I hope you have really grown up to a true lady your mother has always wanted you to become," "You are unlike Melanie whom you hated during your whole life."_

Rhett only wanted to insult her by bringing her dead mother and Melanie to his letter. But touching her mother was especially cruel because Rhett knew how Scarlett loved her mother during her whole life and how she suffered when she got back to Tara after their escape from Atlanta siege and was too late to hug her on her deathbed. He didn't give a damn that she could have arrived in Tara before her mother died if he hadn't leave her alone with sick woman, small baby, and hysterical Prissy on Rough and Ready. Scarlett grasped that her husband ran away from her to the war, while two great ladies, her mother and weak Melanie, were dying, and, thanks God that Melanie survived that horrible night. In his letter, Rhett also touched intentionally the point that her mother wasted in what she raised Scarlett to become a true lady and taught her all standards and norms of proper behavior for a lady in a strict society of the American South. How atrocious Rhett was and how much he hated her for the pain she caused to him.

"Rhett, that barbeque at Twelve Oaks is undoubtedly goddammed because I met you there," Scarlett thought. "Damn you, Rhett! You ran away from me at least four times: the night of escape from Atlanta siege, the night of Ashley's birthday, the day when Melly died, and the night of passion in Charleston. What is next? How many times will you run away from me and from yourself? You are a coward."

On that night in Charleston, Rhett was severely intoxicated with whiskey. He lost his self-control even more quickly than it had happened with him on the night of Ashley's birthday party. Both Rhett and Scarlett were completely absorbed and blinded with passion. Scarlett forgot all her usual boundaries and restrictions in lovemaking and in the unladylike manner offered herself to her husband, as well as responded to Rhett's hot kisses on her bare soft skin and her whole body. He released all his accumulated passion and physical starvation of his body, stemming from his former constant self-restrictions in lovemaking with Scarlett, when they were not sharing a bed for years after Bonnie's birth. Also, a long time had passed since their last intimate encounter on Ashley's previous birthday. It was not astonishing that Rhett took her three times throughout the night, in a violent and tender act of love, giving pleasure to their bodies and releasing their tension.

On that night in Charleston, Rhett and Scarlett were exhausted and satisfied lovers who found each other after long starvation and who needed each other's kisses in order to survive. Scarlett still remembered as she cried loudly from the pleasure Rhett gave her. Never before had she experienced something like that. Not even on the memorable night of Ashley's birthday party when intoxicated Rhett initiated their first free-of-boundaries-and-shame lovemaking and forced himself on her, making her to surrender by responding to his warm, passionate, rough kisses and giving pleasure to his handsome body. Scarlett still remembered his rough, bruising and swollen lips that crushed on her full rosy lips, taking away all her breath and captivating her in the whirlwind of emotional rapture and heightened ecstasy. She was languishing for his kisses and arms, caressing her bare body and making her moan from pleasure.

Scarlett had already re-read Rhett's farewell letter numerous times, especially those where Rhett compared her to a Madame of the whorehouse, like Belle Watling. These words were especially cruel and humiliating for Scarlett's self-esteem, her ego, her honor, and her pride. She wasn't raised like a whore by Mammy and her dear mother Ellen. "_I just used you for one night as I had always used pretty girls at Belle's…" _was jingling repugnantly in her ears. Was that indeed only for one night? Was she like Belle Watling for Rhett? She was sure that Rhett had felt certain primitive satisfaction when he had bedded beautiful whores who had adored him for his money and his handsome appearance. Scarlett questioned whether he had felt the same satisfaction on their last night of passion in Charleston. Most likely, he had the same feeling as he had with other women, she mused. But was she correct in her conclusions and thoughts?

Rhett hated her so much that even thanked her for the night in the aspect of saved money and pleasant time with her. It was unbelievably atrocious and beyond Scarlett's imagination to realize. It hurt her too much, and she knew that he did this intentionally to get rid of her. The goddamned letter included _"Thank you very much for this night and saved money."_

How could Rhett treat her with such indignity, loathing, and, perhaps, even hatred? He humiliated her, traumatized her, and hurt her self-respect and self-esteem. And how wounded her heart was after she read this letter for the first time! What a blackguard and a lowdown skunk Rhett Butler was in reality! And how could she love this cruelest, the most arrogant, and the most infuriating man whom she has ever met? And was it possible that she would ever stop loving him? Was it possible that she would forgive and forget him?

A thought of shame struck Scarlett's mind as her mind wandered around her own actions on that night in Charleston. She began to think that Rhett compared her to a whore on the back of her brave behavior and bold, blushless lovemaking with him, when she unashamedly unbuttoned his shirt and removed it finally, touched the buckle of his belt on the trousers and further helped him to get rid of his undergarments. Eventually, she helped Rhett remove her dressing magenta rose gown and joined him in her most glorious, completely naked appearance. She initiated hot kisses and caressing endearments, and she wasn't shy and afraid of her own actions. Scarlett was very bold, and it took her all of her willpower and a large dose of shame to act so. She kissed him, his lips, his cheeks, his neck, and he returned her kisses. Scarlett gave herself to his mercy and forgot about all her Southern virtues she usually had in her mind. There were so many wicked things he did to her and she returned his endearments, making no sound of protest as only moans of sweet, terrible pleasure escaped her. At that night she didn't care that everything they were doing was improper. She didn't bite her lips to suppress her moans and whimpers because he had made her feeling free and herself, as wild and as ravenous as he was. There was no leader in the flash of their passion as Scarlett and Rhett were active and willing participants who gave and took pleasure to and from one other. There were only his lips, bruising and caressing, and her lips, sensitive and demanding, his lips above her lips, darkness and two loving creatures.

Scarlett was so bold on that night, like never before. Why did she act so? Why was all the shame gone in that moment of her solitude with Rhett in his own bedroom? Scarlett loved him and wanted him, wanted badly and desperately, lusting for his tender touches and his hot kisses, like never before. She had never wanted Rhett more than she had wanted him on that night. It was her unconditional, mad love for her husband, which was driving her to commit bold actions and which made melt down all possible and impossible restraints.

During their marriage there was only one moment when Scarlett initiated intimacy between them: it was in the New Orleans when she was drunk and was singing the "Bonnie Blue Flag" in the open carriage all their way back to the hotel, through the streets of the city. She recalled that, once being undressed in their honeymoon suite, she hugged Rhett and kissed him fiercely on his lips. She smiled when she remembered the utmost surprise and a broad sincere smile of satisfaction on his swarthy face. All other moments in their marriage Scarlett was restrained and let Rhett lead their intimacy because she contemplated it as a necessary marital duty rather than as a festivity of passion and pleasure. Rhett respected her Southern virtues and seemed to be restrained, keeping a check on his passion and intimate actions. There was always a curb trifle to his emotions in their intimacy. It was always so, except for one night of Ashley's birthday when Rhett's passion exploded in uncontrollable manner, bringing Scarlett to the incredible ravishment for the first time in her life. Only now Scarlett realized why it was so: Rhett loved her, but couldn't tell her about his true feelings.

Scarlett's heart became fluttering at a higher pace each time when her mind reproduced the pleasure Rhett had given her body. She immediately felt the involuntary vibrations of the heart in her chest. She tried to tell herself it was nothing but lust for her former husband's kisses. Except that she didn't only think of the heat of his mouth, his response to her kisses. But she still remembered she had lusted after his vague melancholic smiles and his kisses. She still remembered how he teased her and mocked her. At times, she wanted to see him again even for a short moment, even for a second. It was deeply irrational, that want. But then, it came to her mind that Rhett had been the only man who had ever been bold to treat her so cruelly and disrespectfully he had done. It had been a long while since a man had disgraced her and laughed at her, and she couldn't help but tremble at the memory how miserable Rhett had made her feel. She was disgusted with what he had done to her.

The pale green eyes fixed on another painful phrase: "_Otherwise, I may begin to disdain you and even my pity and kindness will fade away…"_ Rhett's words hit Scarlett's self-esteem and respect heavily. No, Scarlett will be unable to forget this humiliation and his flagrant treatment of her. She will never be able to face this terrible man again, this unashamed lowdown man who doesn't care for somebody else, except for himself, she mused. Perhaps, she even will be unable to face any other man throughout her entire life, which compelled her to resign to her lonely, lamentable life devoted only to Rhett's child with her.

Scarlett let out a sign and rubbed her temples. Her imagination ran wild. "I cannot carry on. I need to find peace in my heart and my soul. That man broke my self-respect and my self-esteem when he took me like a whore and thanked me for the time and money he had saved. Why did Rhett despise me so much?" Scarlett thought.

In the meantime, despite all the destruction, hollow, and Rhett's cruelty, even now, many months after this night, Scarlett was languishing for his love. She recalled that on that night she did not hear the words of love from him. Rhett simply took her and gave her the pleasure from their lovemaking. Yet, somehow she felt that one more subtle connection between them was formed, although she didn't know what it could be. This thought struck her when Rhett took her for the third and last time and they drifted to peaceful sleep.

At that magnificent, yet with a bitter taste of shame and ruined shyness, night Scarlett didn't care for the outside world at that very widely happiest moment of her life. Rhett also didn't give a damn, apathetic and disinterested in the outcome of the night. Neither she nor he wanted to remember the outcome of the night of Ashley's birthday party when Scarlett got pregnant by drunken Rhett who ran away from her with Bonnie in London. Perhaps, that last night in Charleston would teach Scarlett to think about the consequences of nights with Rhett. She knew that she had had to be careful with Rhett Butler, but she had forgotten about it on that night.

"_Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn_…" was buzzing and screaming in Scarlett's ears. Even now, more than a year after Rhett said these tragic, epitaphic words to his love and their marriage, Scarlett still kept in mind his cool indifferent tone and unvital hollow glance of his deep-black, coal eyes when he was standing at the doorway of outside entrance to the house and subsequently vanished in the fog.

"Rhett, our marriage gave me a lesson that one of the greatest weaknesses of most human beings is their reluctance or hesitancy to tell others how much they love them while they are still alive and are with them. Why didn't you tell me clearly that you loved me for so long time?" Scarlett was discoursing silently upon her marriage with Rhett. However, she forgot to apply the same concept in relation to her own feelings about Rhett when she missed him and needed him, but never confessed him about it.

The truth was that Scarlett felt extremely offended and humiliated by the cruel and harsh words in Rhett's letter. She couldn't understand and would never understand how the person who loved her so much before Bonnie's death could currently treat her like a trashy woman and a whore, with extreme extent of barbarity, contempt, and hatred. Pretty good combination of Rhett's feelings, Scarlett thought with tears forming in her beautiful emerald eyes. But even despite those circumstances, everything in her yearned for him.

Earlier Scarlett believed that every loving and devoted woman finds happiness without any doubt and thus invents seclusion and a sort of incognito in order to keep this happiness, say to preserve heart and home. Now she knew for sure that love always brings pain, tragedy, and, of course, blood, as it was in her case. Heart and home evolve in so-called convenient marriages when husband and wife live together, have children and are tied to each other, but in sober fact lead independent lives and merely tolerate each other for the sake of the children and society rules. At least, it was what Scarlett thought and how it was in her marriage with Rhett. The only difference is that their marriage was convenient for her, but inconvenient for him, which he managed to hide for many years with the help of his emotional self-masquerade.

Now Scarlett decided that love is simply no more than one of the delightful whims which supply a subject for conversation with relatives and friends, as well as in the society. She had to persuade herself in this. Disappointed in love and marriage, Scarlett gave her whole mind to the task of adhering to what she had just formed and established as a principle in her mind. No, no more love! She was fed up with the illusion of love! No more love for men in her life. Maybe, convenient marriages are even better because if there is no love, there is no pain, disappointment, and tragedy.

What about Rhett Butler? Scarlett knew that Rhett had been accustomed to pay for love. Natural and sincere love, artificial and love-of-show love, love based on self-esteem and vanity, love based on money, status, and other values, love as a display of taste and manners… Rhett paid for all these sorts of love, and he knew all of them, even real love, which he scrupulously hid from Scarlett and which died several years ago. And he paid even for that real love for Scarlett. In some sense, it was a sort of convenient love for him. No, she wouldn't think more about it. Otherwise she will never forget, but she was obliged to do it.

"Rhett had a sort of convenient love for me. He paid for it, but masked his true feelings, laughingly, to protect himself. Now I must forget and I will forget," Scarlett mused. "I will do it."

When was Scarlett happy? She was happy in her childhood with her parents and Mammy, at Tara. And was she happy in her youth and adulthood? Will she ever be happy in the future, at least in the distant future? There was no answer to this question. She only knew that her mother Ellen had probably been happy even without Philippe Robillard when he suddenly died, his death being the greatest of her grieves in her not so long life. But was her mother happy in her personal life? At least, she had children and a good, respectable husband who loved her and took good care of the family. Scarlett came to the conclusion that happiness had had no history and that the words "They are happy" could have been not at the end of every love story – there were a lot of tragic love stories. Will Scarlett ever have happiness in its loveliest form, tender and sweet like a love symphony of certain duration? Her mother was happy and composed with what she had. However, Scarlett guessed that her mother had been dreaming of Philippe in the nighttime, although that circumstance hadn't been pleasurable for Scarlett as she had loved her father Gerald. Maybe, Scarlett will also be happy with her family, but will still dream of Rhett. God knows what would happen in her life. Maybe, one day the formula "They were happy" or "They are happy" would become emphatically true in its application to Scarlett's private life.

_"You are so brutal to those who love you, Scarlett. You take their love and hold it over their heads like a whip_…" was screaming in her ears. Why didn't Rhett see that he was cruel and brutal to her when he told her "_Cheer up, maybe you'll have a miscarriage…_" on the staircase after his arrival with Bonnie from London or when he pulled her, trembling and frightened, out of his mother's Charleston house into the dark, cold street? Scarlett couldn't understand why Rhett hadn't seen his own mistakes and wrongdoings in their marriage. He was so ignorant of his own faults, so arrogant and bullheaded in his own believes that Scarlett didn't know how to compel him to look on their relationship from another angle and to make him recognize that they both were responsible for their loveless, unhappy marriage.

Scarlett recalled that Rhett told her in their last conversation on the day of Melanie's death that he had wanted to take care of her, to spoil her, to give her everything she had wanted, to protect her and to give her a free rein in anything that would make her happy. But did Rhett do it in reality? He bought presents for her and gave money to her, but never had he told her about his sincere intentions, thoughts, and his love for her, always wearing on his tanned handsome face a well-trained mask of aloofness and polite indifference. More accurately speaking, Rhett told her several time that he had lover her, but other husbands could remind their wives about their love much more often. Rhett was always holding back his tongue in relation to the truth, while he also had special satisfaction as he was mocking and teasing her. She often replayed in her mind the moments when Rhett told bald truths about himself as he spoke teasingly and was mocking himself as well as others. Will he ever look at his own mistakes? The future would show, she mused.

Scarlett no longer could read Rhett's farewell letter and remember him. It became too dark in the room and outside. She couldn't see anything, except for just a mess of her business papers on her bed and Rhett's letter among them, illuminated in the faint moonlight that spilled into the room.

"Madame Scarlett!" someone called in French. It was her maid Leontine's voice. "Madame Scarlett!"

It brought on a moment of panicked unreason when Scarlett imagined the worst thing in the world – that she had gone mad and had only imagined what she had been remembering all the past several hours. But she had Rhett's farewell letter in her hands, and it was a proof that it was real. She didn't imagine it. She didn't lose her mind. She was indeed remembering her past. And it was Leontine's voice that returned her to harsh reality.

As Scarlett didn't answer to Leontine's words, the maid called again: "Madame Scarlett!"

"I am here, Leontine," Scarlett said in French. "Please don't worry about me."

"Madame Scarlett, you are sitting here in the darkness. It is getting rather late. You need candles."

"I won't deny that I need them," Scarlett replied in a joyful voice. She smiled to herself.

"I will bring candles, Madame Scarlett," Leontine said humbly.

"Thank you, Leontine."

"Do you need something else, Madame?" the maid asked.

"Yes, I do," Scarlett replied after a short pause. "I would love to have a late dinner."

"This is great! You were eating so little in the past months," Leontine commented. "Your husband was worried about you."

Scarlett glanced down momentarily, her eyelashes long and striking against the paleness of her alabaster skin. "I know, Leontine," she murmured as she finally looked up at her maid.

"Will you come downstairs for the dinner? Or should I bring the tray with the dinner in your room?"

Scarlett drew a deep breath. "I will go downstairs. Will my husband have dinner downstairs today?"

"Yes, he will," Leontine stated. "He felt rather unwell, but he said he would come."

"Then I should also come," Scarlett declared.

As Leontine brought the candles and lit them, she looked around when her eyes stopped at her pale mistress sitting on the bed and surrounded by numerous papers. There was complete mess of papers. Some papers were on the floor near the bed.

"Madame Scarlett, should I help you to arrange all these papers now?" Leontine questioned.

Scarlett frowned. It was a fearsome frown, the kind that sent people scurrying to the opposite side of the room, but Leontine was accustomed to that. "No, thank you. I will do this by myself," Scarlett replied as she rose to her feet and began to gather the papers. As she was done, she approached the bureau and put her papers there. She locked the drawer with the key.

Scarlett turned around and stared at her maid. "I will need your help with the dressing for the dinner."

That elicited a small smile from Leontine. "Of course, I will help you, Madame Scarlett."

Scarlett sighed. "How is my husband feeling today?"

"He was rather unwell. He spent the majority of the day in the bed."

Scarlett tried not to flinch in front of her maid. "God's nightgown! Did he at least go to his study room?"

"Yes, he did," Leontine informed. "Madame Scarlett, your husband spent downstairs several hours, and then he asked to help him get back into his bedroom."

Scarlett's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Are you sure he feels well enough to go downstairs for the dinner?"

"Monsieur said he would have the dinner in the grand living room," Leontine informed her. "He was sleeping and only an hour ago ordered to serve the late dinner."

Scarlett mustered a fake smile for Leontine. "Thank you for notifying me, Leontine," she said. Then she headed to the dressing room to choose the evening attire for the dinner.

It wasn't a dream. Scarlett's mind was stark with a reality she couldn't bear to acknowledge, but had to do it. She was in Paris. It was August 1874. She was in her husband's mansion on _Rue des Blancs Manteaux _in_ Le Marais__._ Atlanta, Charleston, and the United States were in the different part of the world, and she had to cross the ocean to get there. She had a new life in Europe, and her new life was promising to be breathtakingly interesting and immensely active as soon as she feels better. Rhett Butler said his goodbye, she said hers, and now she must content herself with that painful, larger-than-life reality. Rhett was behind. Their marriage was behind.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Pierre Robillard's death and Scarlett's sweet secret**

After the dinner Scarlett returned to her bedchamber. Her maid Leontine helped her undress. She unlaced her and helped get rid of her corset, chemise, stockings, and her undergarments. Then Leontine handed Scarlett a French black velvet robe and a black silk nightgown. Scarlett threw the heavy dark blue evening gown on the settee and approached the window. As she turned around, she realized that she was alone in the room. Leontine gathered her mistress's clothes and headed to the dressing room to leave the clothes there. When Leontine returned, she wished Scarlett good night and left.

Scarlett pushed aside heavy curtains and opened the window. She enjoyed chilly air for several minutes and closed the window. She sank into the settee near the window and began to remember her past.

Devastated and dismayed, Scarlett left Charleston behind and went back to Tara for a month and a half. Unfortunately, her relations with Suellen were very tense, which wasn't easy for Scarlett to withstand due to her overall emotional fragility and evisceration. Mammy tried to reconcile Scarlett with her sister, but nothing good resulted from these attempts. Neither Scarlett nor her sister Suellen O'Hara Benteen was ready to do first steps to truce and friendship. Suellen was more resistant to the long-awaited by other members of the family reconciliation, while Scarlett simply didn't care about her sister at that moment. Mammy and Will tried to strike a balance between Scarlett and Suellen, but also failed.

Mammy tried to comfort Scarlett after she had read to her the farewell letter from Rhett. The old woman told Scarlett that Rhett hadn't been himself in the light of his grief. Mammy couldn't believe that Mister Rhett had been able to behave so cruelly. Mammy felt sorry for Scarlett, but couldn't help her in other way, except only consoling her and encouraging her to forgive her husband. Mammy comprehended Scarlett's despair and resentment, although she hoped that Rhett would not overpass to the stage of official divorce. Mammy emboldened Scarlett that Rhett had still loved her, but if the worst happened, a prolonged time will pass before Rhett recover and realize his mistakes.

Scarlett and Mammy were in Scarlett's old bedroom when Scarlett told her nanny about her trip to Charleston and what Rhett did.

"Mammy, Rhett left me after…" she trailed off as she couldn't finish what she wanted to say.

"You don't need to explain, Miss Scarlett. I understood. I have ears and eyes. I can see through you."

"Great balls of fire, Mammy!" Scarlett cried out quietly. "What a devil Rhett is! Why do perverse and scandalous things give him such a great pleasure?"

"Miss Scarlett, Mister Rhett loves you, but he is a stubborn mule like you," Mammy replied steadily.

"Mammy, he has no right to humiliate me as he did! I am his wife and Bonnie's mother," Scarlett objected and began to pace her old bedroom. She reiterated: "Rhett has no right."

Mammy reached Scarlett and hugged her tightly. She loved her lamb wholeheartedly. "My lamb, Mister Rhett is not himself after Miss Bonnie's death. He needs his time to grief alone. He will come back because he loves you."

"Mammy, I have signed the divorce papers which I found on the nightstand in the morning," Scarlett replied, pressing her face to Mammy's warm chest.

"Divorce in the O'Hara family? I could never imagine Miss Ellen's daughter to be a divorced woman." Mammy disentangled from Scarlett and granted her disapproving glance to Scarlett.

"Yes, Mammy, I can become a divorced woman," Scarlett countered. "I am not a whore like that vile red-haired creature that he regularly beds. If he wants divorce, I will give him divorce."

"Miss Scarlett, don't ever mention this woman! It is such a shame!"

Scarlett's cheeks pinked. "In either case, I don't think that it is such a shame."

"I understand your despair and I don't support Mister Rhett in what he has done," Mammy replied, "but divorce is such a shameful thing. It is a disgrace for the whole family…"

Scarlett looked at her attentively and saw regret in every line of her mountainous figure. Mammy's face was puckered in the sad disapproval but there was determination in her jaw and in her dark eyes.

"I don't care what others will think! I don't care about the rumors, Mammy! I have my own pride and self-respect, and if Rhett doesn't respect me, it doesn't mean I will tolerate his disgusting treatment of myself," Scarlett's verdict followed, confident and final. Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears in the dim light of the room. She settled on the edge of her bed and twisted her hands on her lap. She sighed and added: "So far I don't know whether he is going to proceed to official divorce. Most likely, he will do it."

Mammy straightened. She came to Scarlett and said: "My lamb, I truly hope that he won't divorce you. I hope that he cools off and you will talk as a husband and a wife."

"Mammy, I hope so, but most likely it is all about vague hopes," Scarlett shook her head in incredulity.

Small tears began to fall from Mammy's sad dark eyes. She squared her old shoulders and sank in the nearby wooden chair. Scarlett sprang to her feet and stepped to Mammy. She hugged her, and Mammy returned an embrace, warm and sincere. Mammy wiped tears from her nose and cheeks on the back of her right hand, while her left hand was hugging Scarlett.

The old woman raised her head and glanced into Scarlett's green eyes. "Miss Scarlett, I know how difficult it is for you… at first our small Miss Bonnie, not Mister Rhett… But you are strong… You may love him as you do, but you don't need him… You can live without him."

"Yes, I can. I will cope over time, even if we are divorced," Scarlett said. "I will survive. Devil is not so black as he is painted."

"But this stubborn… stubborn man loves you and he will come back sooner or later…" Mammy said convincingly. "Even if you are divorced, he will never forget you."

"I am not so sure, Mammy. He has Belle Watling and there are many other warm beds." Scarlett curved her eyebrows as horned moon. "I am quoting his words, Mammy."

"My lamb, don't talk about this woman! Mister Rhett said this to spite you when you were fighting. He will come back sooner or later," Mammy reassured Scarlett who waved her head skeptically. "I am old and I know better than you do. Believe me, my lamb."

Scarlett looked absorbed in her thoughts. Her chin lifted, her green eyes radiating resolution and confidence, she slanted a glance at Mammy. "Maybe yes maybe no."

"Miss Scarlett, now you look like Mister Philippe…" Mammy cut herself sharply. She put her large hand on her mouth.

Scarlett looked at Mammy with her penetrating, watchful gaze. "Mammy, what are you talking about?"

"Miss Scarlett…" Mammy stumbled with words.

Scarlett came to Mammy and looked into her eyes. "Mammy, did you want to say something else?"

"Miss Scarlett, I just remembered poor Mister Philippe…" Mammy stopped herself.

"Pray continue," Scarlett pressed on. She turned around from Mammy and went back to her bed.

"Mister Philippe always looked like you looked a moment ago when he was absorbed in his thoughts. He often used that his phrase "Maybe yes, maybe no" when he was uncertain about something," Mammy explained. She didn't look at Scarlett.

"Is that all you wanted to say, Mammy?" Scarlett asked.

"Yes, Mister Scarlett," Mammy nodded in agreement. "I often remember young Mister Philippe and the day he left your grandfather's house in Savannah. I often remember Miss Ellen and Mister Philippe's feelings for each other. I often remember how your mother married Mister Gerald and how we moved to Tara from Savannah. There was almost nothing at that time. There was no large house. They had only a small house located a little closer to the fields. Your mother and Mister Gerald lived there when you were born. There also were not many servants at that time."

"And when was the large house built?"

Mammy's face brightened. She smiled. "In 1847, my lamb."

"God forbid you, Mammy, to hide something from me," Scarlett abruptly said. It was unexpected even for herself.

A startled silence hung over them. Mammy was standing in the middle of the room, her eyes shut. Scarlett looked at her, and her heart collapsed. She approached the old woman.

"Miss Scarlett, I have always been loyal to you," Mammy muttered in a trembling voice, her eyes still closed. She sighed heavily. "I always tried to protect you and so did your mother. I am sorry if I did something incorrectly. But we did what we had to do."

"I know, Mammy. You have always loved," Scarlett said softly. She hugged Mammy. "I am sorry for being so sharp with you."

A smile eased her lips as Mammy looked up at Scarlett. "It is alright, Miss Scarlett," the old woman replied.

Back to the reality of the chilly Parisian evening, Scarlett stretched her body along the white velvet covers in the bed and continued her memorizing. She also renewed in her memory that she had received the letter from her grandfather's lawyer in Savannah at the early beginning of December 1873. The old lawyer, Mr Massart, asked her to go to the city and to his office due to Pierre Robillard's recent death and the necessity to organize his funeral, as well as to see the legal papers, which Pierre left especially for Scarlett.

Scarlett put aside the letter from Pierre Robillard's lawyer. "My grandfather Pierre died in Savannah. He had a heart attack and couldn't recover. His death was nearly immediate as the doctors say," she said.

"Miss Scarlett, are you leaving for Savannah soon?" Mammy questioned.

Scarlett nodded. "I don't know."

"It is very sad that your grandfather died, Miss Scarlett," Mammy said, her voice edged with sorrow.

Scarlett's green eyes slid closed for an instance. "Mammy, I don't know what I feel. When I needed money during the war-time to support my starving family, my grandfather Pierre didn't help me. I hated him at that time. Honestly, I am not in mourning for him."

"Miss Scarlett, you cannot say so! He was your grandfather!" Mammy countered.

Scarlett's lips curved in a sarcastic smile. "Mammy, I agree that it is sad that my grandfather Pierre died, but I cannot say that I regret his death. Pierre Robillard had ceased any contacts with my mother after she had got married to my father. He didn't consider me to be his family. Then why should I come to Savannah and attend his funeral?"

"My lamb, you must come there. I feel that you must come."

Scarlett shook her head. "I am not so sure."

Mammy approached Scarlett and took her hand in her large brown hands. "Miss Scarlett, you should go to Savannah and attend the funeral. Mister Pierre was Miss Ellen's father. Miss Ellen would never have approved of you if you hadn't attended your grandfather's funeral," the old woman insisted.

Scarlett sighed. She "Fine, I will go." She tossed her raven curls on her head. "I hope you are happy now, Mammy," she parried.

Mammy's dark orbs turned deplorable. "I cannot be happy if you are not happy, my lamb."

Scarlett smiled at Mammy. "Mammy, I know."

Soon Scarlett left Tara for Savannah. She prohibited Mammy to accompany her to Savannah, asking her to stay at Tara. Scarlett traveled to Savannah with her darkie maid Pansy.

Scarlett wasn't very excited about her trip because she had a complicated mixture of feelings for her grandfather Pierre Robillard. At one side, Scarlett hated Pierre because he had left her family without any financial support in the war time. She knew pretty well that Pierre had a lot of money and still hadn't shown any interest to his own grandchildren. At another side, Pierre Robillard still was her grandfather.

Scarlett met Pierre Robillard only several times in her life, and those times weren't very pleasant. When Scarlett, her sisters, and her mother Ellen met Pierre Robillard at Pauline and Eulalie Robillard's house in Charleston many years ago, Scarlett's grandfather insulted Ellen and said that she had found for herself "an old Irish husband with shadowy past and a peasant origin." Ellen Robillard was only keeping silent as her nature of a great lady didn't allow her to quarrel with her own old father. Scarlett had always remembered that terrible meeting with Pierre and that scandal as she felt insulted and humiliated by that pompous man from Savannah who had always been so proud by his French aristocratic roots. Scarlett remembered Pierre to be a very pompous, proud man. She thought that Pierre had been a horrid, hard-hearted man who didn't care for his own relatives. Scarlett was quite right in her estimations of Pierre's character. However, she didn't know that her grandfather had been keeping a dreadful mystery for many years, a mystery that would change her entire life in the next several years.

The most surprising outcome of her trip to Savannah was Pierre's final will. Scarlett felt that she couldn't breathe for some time as Pierre Robillard's lawyer Mr Ralph Massart told her that her grandfather had made Scarlett his own legal heiress. Pierre left Scarlett all his property and all his money on the bank accounts in the Bank of Savannah and in several English banks. It appeared to be that in fact Pierre had willed to Scarlett everything that he had earned and had saved during his long life.

That news was unexpected for Scarlett, given that her grandfather avoided any communication with Ellen de Robillard or simply Ellen Robillard (in accordance with French manner of using particule _de_ to distinguish nobility) after she had married to Gerald O'Hara, an Irish man who was rumored to have won his plantation at the card-table. Scarlett's new inheritance was not only unpredictable, but also unbelievable on the back of Pierre's refuse to help her starving family pay taxes on Tara in the after-war time. What induced Pierre Robillard to make Scarlett his only heiress? She didn't know the reason, and, despite this, she was happy with what she got.

A smile manifested on Scarlett's face when she remembered her grandfather Pierre's deathbed note addressed to her. She took it and unfolded the sheet of paper to read.

_Dear Scarlett,_

_If you are reading this letter now, it means that I died._

_I want you to know that I decided to make you my only legal heiress. You will own all the money on the bank accounts and all the property, both in the States and in Europe. You can do with my money everything what you want. My lawyer Mr Ralph Massart will help you with the paperwork._

_I chose you as my heiress because I have always admired you for your strong character and will of iron, which are so alien to most women of our time. You also possess the natural grace and the exquisiteness of the Robillards. The older you become, the better you will understand this. You are the typical, pure Robillard, and I am proud to say this to you._

_Although you, Scarlett, and I have never been on good terms with each other, I have always loved Ellen and her children. She was the loveliest among my daughters. I have never been happy with her choice of a husband as she got married to Gerald O'Hara, Irish immigrant with a shady past and with peasant origin. However, that cannot be changed now. If I hadn't done one great mistake in my life, everything would have been utterly different for many people._

_I am asking you to take care of your Aunts Eulalie and Pauline. I know that you will do so for me._

_If you ever meet one person, I can only pray you won't start hating me._

_I wish you happiness from the bottom of my heart. Try to remember me sometimes._

_Your grandfather_

_Pierre Jacques Alexandre __de Robillard de Bréveaux_

Scarlett folded the sheet of paper and put it aside. She liked what her grandfather Pierre wrote to her. It appeared that he loved her mother Ellen and Scarlett, but he had never showed that feeling to the outside world. What she didn't like was that in his letter Pierre had insinuated Gerald O'Hara. Even on his deathbed Pierre Robillard couldn't reconcile himself to the fact that Ellen had left him as she had got married to Gerald.

_"You are the typical, pure Robillard, and I am proud to say this to you…" _God, what did it mean? Why did Pierre Robillard write that? He called Scarlett "_a typical, pure Robillard,_" which wasn't very clear to Scarlett at that moment. Now, after several years passed and, most importantly, when she got acquainted with many of the Robillards in France, she realized that she had much more in common with her French relatives than she had thought earlier.

Pierre also stated that he had done a mistake that had probably changed his and Ellen's lives. What was this mistake like? What did her grandfather do incorrectly? What did he mean by those strange words? Who were these _many people_ from the letter, whose life would have gone differently if Pierre hadn't done something? Scarlett didn't know the answer, but she concluded that the hint was made to Pierre's ireful rejection of Philippe Robillard as Ellen's fiancé and as her future husband.

_"If you ever meet one person, I can only pray you won't start hating me…" _ God, how strange it sounded, Scarlett mused. The oddest, nearly unearthly fact was that her grandfather had supposed that she would probably meet someone who could make her hate Pierre. Who was this _one person _from the farewell note? Was this someone a man or a woman? What did her grandfather Pierre mean? What could he or she tell Scarlett? Was it something about Pierre, the Robillards in general, or something else? It sounded very strange, like an absurd story. She neither understood nor wanted to guess the true sense of those words. It was just something absurd and awkward for her.

Scarlett's mind often traveled back to this letter, but she never discussed it with somebody else. She also noticed that in the end of the letter her grandfather referred to himself as _Pierre Jacques Alexandre __de Robillard de Bréveaux _instead of simply _Pierre Robillard _in the American version. Scarlett concluded that that name was his full French name, which consisted of several names and surname with the particule _de_, indicating nobility. Did he do this because on the deathbed he remembered his French roots? Maybe, it was so. Perhaps, there was something else behind that.

The train of Scarlett's thoughts continued in the direction of her most important, the sweetest secret she discovered in Savannah. She had been keeping her secret carefully from the rest of the world since that very moment. In a week after her departure from Tara, she started to feel strange morning sickness, at first only recurring from time to time and resulting in constant feeling unwell during two weeks she spent in Savannah after her grandfather's funeral. She felt dizziness and nausea, while her standard eating habits turned were stomach-churning. First not noticing and not paying attention to, Scarlett eventually came to realization that the true reason behind her sickness was not any sickness and smiled proudly. She should have been pregnant, around two months along, pregnant with Rhett's child.

Once in Savannah she fainted on the street near Pierre Robillard's house. She didn't remember how she was carried to the doctor. As dizziness and nausea overcame her, she fainted. She recovered her consciousness in the carriage. She realized that the carriage was moving. Most likely, they were going somewhere. She heard unfamiliar voices herself. The unknown men were talking. She was so weak that she couldn't open her eyes and kept them tightly shut. Each minute seemed to stretch into forever. Because her eyes were closed, the darkness around her slowed time.

Finally, realizing that she was with unknown men in the carriage, she opened her eyes and tried to push away from the man who was holding her head on his lap, her legs outstretched on the seat of the carriage. As she tried to lift her body, a new wave of nausea assaulted her.

"Who are you? Where are we going?" Scarlett nearly screamed.

"You are Pierre Robillard's granddaughter Scarlett, don't you?" the man asked. He leaned over her and fixed his eyes on her face.

"Yes, I am," she gave a slight node. "I am Scarlett O'Hara Butler. But who are you? What are you doing with me?"

"Mrs Butler, please calm down. I am your grandfather Pierre's close friend," a stranger chuckled. His voice sounded muffled. "My name is Daniel Rittmeyer, and the other gentleman is my secretary Olivier Stancliff."

"What happened with me?" Scarlett murmured.

Mr Rittmeyer sighed. "You fainted near Pierre Robillard's house on the street. We are taking you to the doctor. Please, don't worry. We will arrive soon. The medical practice is in the center of the city."

Scarlett opened her green eyes and stared at the unknown man who introduced himself as Mr Daniel Rittmeyer. Scarlett didn't see the man's face because a black wool scarf was wrapped around his neck so high that it covered almost all his face, up to his eyes. The man was wearing the glasses. His elegant, undoubtedly expensive hat was hiding his hair from the onlookers.

"I am sorry for my appearance, but it was rather cold and I caught cold," Mr Rittmeyer explained. His voice sounded far away and very muffled. "My throat is hurting."

"I am sorry for you. I hope you will recover soon, Mr Rittmeyer."

It was rather odd, but Scarlett didn't feel inconvenience in front of this man. She felt spontaneous inexplicable sympathy to him. She felt as though she had known him earlier and had been bonded with him. She wanted to trust him and she trusted him. She didn't know why it was so.

"I attended your grandfather's funeral," he said in a hoarse voice. "It was such a sad event."

"Yes, it was," she replied shortly. "Why didn't you ask somebody from the house to help me?"

Scarlett remarked only slight Southern accent in Mr Rittmeyer's speech. He was speaking pure, perfect English, but it was slightly different as compared to how other Southerners were speaking. It was distinguishable even in his hoarse voice, muffled on the back of his sick throat as he had explained.

"I decided to take you to the best physician in the city. His name is Mr Sylvester Keeney. You should have heard about him." Mr Rittmeyer rubbed his forehead.

"No, I didn't," Scarlett protested. "I should get home. Please get me home right now."

"I am sorry, Mrs Butler, but I cannot. You need a doctor in case you are sick," Mr Rittmeyer commented as the carriage stopped. "Besides, we already arrived. The doctor will see you in several minutes."

"Thank you," Scarlett returned.

"Olivier," Mr Rittmeyer called his secretary. "Please, help this lady to get to the doctor. I will wait for you here."

"Yes, Mr Rittmeyer," the secretary politely replied. He helped Scarlett to get out off the carriage as Mr Rittmeyer disentangled from her in order to let Mr Stancliff take Scarlett.

Mr Stancliff was going to carry her away from the carriage, but Scarlett protested. She looked around and saw that they had delivered her to the physician's office. The signboard showed "Doctor Sylvester Keeney's medical practice."

"Thank you for you care, Mr Rittmeyer," Scarlett murmured humbly.

"Always welcome, Madame," Mr Rittmeyer's strangled voice resonated quietly.

Scarlett turned around and entered the doctor's office. Mr Rittmeyer's secretary didn't follow her. There was nobody else in the queue. Scarlett was lucky on this occasion. The old doctor agreed to examine Scarlett without any delays when she told him that she had fainted roughly half an hour ago.

"Mrs Butler, you are with child. Congratulations. Your child will arrive in around seven months," Mr Keeney announced.

"So I was correct in my suspicions," she said briefly.

"It appears so."

"Mr Keeney, I had a miscarriage some time ago after I had fallen down the stairs in my house in Atlanta. Can it cause any difficulties in my current pregnancy?" Scarlett asked with alarm in her voice.

"In this case you should be very careful, Mrs Butler. You must avoid stressful situations. Also, don't strain your body until the child comes. You are healthy, and if you don't take unnecessary risks, everything should be fine with this child."

"Thank you. May I ask you to keep this information between you and me?" she demanded imperatively.

"No problem, Mrs Butler. I should follow your wishes, as your doctor. You will be fine if you are careful. In lay terms, get plenty of rest and get away from stressful situations," Mr Keeney assured her.

"Thank you, Mr Keeney. You can send the bill to Pierre Robillard's lawyer Mr Massart."

"You don't need to pay, Mrs Butler."

Scarlett raised her brows. "Why?"

"Your relative Mr Rittmeyer had already paid the bill to my assistant Mary. In fact, he gave her even more money that the bill was. He refused to have change," the doctor explained.

Scarlett gave the doctor a half shrug in confusion. "Thank you for telling me, Mr Keeney."

Scarlett left Mr Keeney's medical practice. The carriage was waiting for her near the building, but neither Mr Daniel Rittmeyer nor his secretary Mr Olivier Stancliff was there. They disappeared. Scarlett asked the driver and he said that two gentlemen had paid him to wait for her outside the building and then deliver her back to the Pierre Robillard's house. Scarlett felt disappointed because she couldn't thank Mr Rittmeyer for his care about her. In addition, he paid her medical bill and to the driver, and now she couldn't return the money to him. She sighed and climbed into the carriage.

When she arrived at Pierre's mansion, she asked the majordomo Benjamin whether Mr Rittmeyer was among the guests at that moment, but the answer was negative. Benjamin searched through the list of the guests. He said that Mr Rittmeyer was indeed included in the list of the guests and attended the funeral, but that he peremptorily refused to spend the night after the funeral at Pierre's house and left immediately after the funeral, not event attending the commemoration. Benjamin recalled that that guest was sick and was wearing a huge scarf wrapped around his neck and covering his face. The majordomo also mentioned that Mr Rittmeyer had returned today as he had forgot his glasses during his brief visiting Pierre last week when the old man had still been alive. Scarlett concluded that Mr Rittmeyer's return was the reason he had seen how she had fainted on the street near Pierre's house. She asked Benjamin to tell her if Mr Rittmeyer returned.

Scarlett was utterly happy and overflowed with positive emotions and hope for reconciliation with Rhett. Her pregnancy was the outcome of her passionate providential night with Rhett. She wondered why fate gave her the same outcome as it had been on the night of Ashley's birthday. Scarlett's mind reconstituted that at that time Rhett had ran away with Bonnie on the next morning after this night. Regrettably, this time the story reduplicated, and she was pregnant and abandoned by Rhett immediately after the night of love and passion in Charleston. Knowing Rhett's love and adoration for his babies, she was dying from the desire to tell him the news. She was dreaming about their reconciliation and Rhett's happiness when she would tell him the news about having a new baby, his baby. This baby won't replace Bonnie, but will help to restore aching spaces in their hearts by giving them new hope for ultimate peace and happiness. Scarlett reckoned this child to be God's blessing for the salvation of her marriage and for the atonement of her past mistakes with Bonnie.

Scarlett's mind reproduced her last conversation with Rhett when, in the middle of December 1873, she went to him to Charleston to announce happy news that he was going to be a father again. The conversation happened in Rhett's study, and he was relatively intoxicated with bloodshot eyes and tart smell of whiskey around, as she contemplated.

"Scarlett, why did you come to me today? Do you have at least some self-respect left? I told you that I no longer love you and, honestly, I am starting to hate and despise you. Have some pride, my pet," Rhett threw over his shoulder.

"But Rhett, my darling, what are you saying? How can you do this to me? I love you, only you, I don't love Ashley. I told you that I was a fool, and I am really sorry," Scarlett boldly said to her husband.

"Scarlett, stop this comedy. Don't make me laugh so hard. Please, leave me in my humble peace without you, my pet," Rhett laughed at her and tossed one glass of whiskey to his throat with one movement of his masculine arm.

"I know you love me, but you are only afraid to acknowledge this even to yourself," Scarlett said confidently, and her voice sounded so far away that it frightened her.

"Don't overestimate yourself, my pet. You don't have your evil spell over me now. Why cannot you see it? It is your stupidity and loop of sight that exacerbate me, you fool," Rhett chuckled and his lips twisted in a devilishly sardonic smile.

"Please don't be afraid to love and to feel again. I have news that will make you happy, my darling… I am…" Scarlett began her confession to laughing Rhett who seemed to become more and more irritated with their conversation in his rising internal doubt of his ability to resist Scarlett if she didn't leave soon.

"My pet, you disgraced me and our marriage a long time ago when you kicked me out of our bedroom and I had to seek the comfort in Belle's arms. I should be afraid of you because you ruin ultimately everything you touch," Rhett growled waspishly.

"God's nightgown! Rhett, please, listen to me. I have news that will change everything…" Scarlett mused.

"Charles and Frank are dead, and I am nearly dead. I was a lunatic man to ever believe that you can make me happy and become a normal wife for me," Rhett cried out to Scarlett and resumed scoffing at her. Now he was laughing uncontrollably low in his throat.

"It is not true! You have always claimed that you can read me like a book. I am a terrible liar, according to your own words. I am not lying!" she cried out loudly and looked straight into his coal eyes.

"Stop it, Scarlett! Hush up!" Rhett exploded, his eyes directed with a very angry expression towards her, and then he drawled slightly. "Scarlett, I have already told you that I am immune to your charms of former Southern belle."

"Listen to me, Rhett. I don't love Ashley! I love you, my darling, only you! Rhett, I am expecting…" she couldn't finish her speech because Rhett interposed in their dialogue.

"I don't care what you expect. Scarlett, you are such a child pursuing what you cannot have. Nothing will change my decision."

"Rhett, listen to me!" she snapped, but he ignored her.

Rhett straightened his spine. His black eyes were befogged by alcohol. "We will be divorced soon. Go to your beloved oafish Ashley and spend with him as many nights of passion as you wish."

Rhett decided to be firm in order not to let be trapped under Scarlett's spell again. He was gradually losing his self-control as hot anger surged through his veins. He emptied another glass of whiskey, and the warmth slashed through his body together with a new wave of hot anger at himself and at her.

Scarlett gave her head a short shake. "You don't know all the circumstances. Darling, I am expecting…"

Scarlett couldn't finish because Rhett again cut her off sharply. He was going to be rude with her. He approached her and grasped her for her shoulders. He started to shake her furiously, and his arms about her made her shake with helpless fear and fury. His hands were bruising soft, tender skin of her small shivering shoulders, but in his rampage Rhett didn't notice it.

Rhett's black eyes darkened and glittered with danger. "I don't care and don't give a damn what you want from me and expect me to do. I am losing my some respect and courtesy left for you."

"Rhett, please, it will change everything… I am…" Rhett interrupted her.

Scarlett didn't know how to pronounce what she had intended to say because Rhett had clearly wanted her hold her mouth closed. He lost all remaining sell-control. He pushed her away from him, then took the empty glass and threw it into the wall. Terrible noise of shattering glass nearly clocked Scarlett senseless.

"Shut the hell up! You are like a whore because you sell your body to men. You sold it to me six years ago, my pet. You love only money and status, you, green-eyed monster. You bring only ill luck to men and death," Rhett hissed through clenched teeth.

A malicious grin came across Rhett's swarthy face. Scarlett didn't even notice that Rhett's hands were jammed in fists in his pockets as he was struggling with himself to suppress his desire to take her into his hands and hug her instead of making all that charade of false hatred and eternal pity. Rhett expanded almost inhuman effort to mortify his sincere desires.

"Rhett, what are you talking about? I don't bring death! All these tragedies are a matter of coincidence. Darling, now we have a chance to correct our past mistakes. I am with…" She wanted to say that she was with child, but Rhett sharply broke her speech.

"You are getting what you deserved! Death is everywhere around you, my pet," Rhett screamed.

He came to her and again grabbed her shoulders roughly. Again he began to shake with furry. Scarlett cried out in strong pain and indignation, but didn't struggle with him, just contemplating and appealing to Rhett's sanity to talk in a civil manner.

"Rhett, you are drunk! You are hurting me! Don't be brutal…"

"You are getting what you deserved," he growled.

"Rhett, please stop it and listen to me…" she cried out, losing her last hope to talk to her husband benevolently.

"Try your charms on somebody else, my pet, and don't waste your time here, darling pet. I am fed up with you and done with you both emotionally and physically," her husband roared violently and with a formal wave of the hand showed on the door. "Leave this house and never come back."

"Rhett… Please… Listen to me," Scarlett pleaded with a mute eloquence and fixed her eyes on his face.

"Get out! Get Out!" Rhett bellowed out in a ghastly voice. "Get out!"

Not giving to Scarlett even a second to answer to his blood-minded, hair-freezing tirade, Rhett roughly took her trembling body in his large hands, carried her from the study room to the parlor and then to the front door. He pulled her out of the house straight to the dark, cold street, despite heavy fall of cold rain outside. Rhett loudly slammed the door behind Scarlett and made his way back to his study room to resume his night drinking. Thereby, Rhett Butler left behind his wife and their unborn child, being clueless of what Scarlett planned to tell him.

While Rhett was drinking in the warm house, his wife's destiny was more miserable. Being caught in the strong rain and crushed by unbearable pain and grief, half-insane, distressed, sopped in the rain, trembling from cold, Scarlett O'Hara Butler was running in the direction of the Charleston train station. She was surrounded by cold wind, autumn rain, mud, dark silence and desolation. Scarlett's brown velvet dress was completely ruined under nasty autumn wind and needle-spark drops of rain, and the heavy, soaked, dirty train of her gown was dragging along the street, hindering her movements. She felt how wet her feet were and how long was the journey to the train station, which reminded Scarlett about the moment in the past when she left Rhett in the horse jail almost in the same weather, alone and defeated, with only difference of walking away from him in a daytime as compared to the current darkness. She desperately tried to find the carriage, which proved to be difficult because of the nasty weather. Finally, Scarlett stopped one carriage and roared to the bewildered coachman to drive in the direction of the train station. At the station, she was lucky to catch the last train for Atlanta scheduled for that day. Soon she was leaving dark Charleston behind.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Time in Atlanta: Henry Hamilton, Ashley, India**

It was on the train from Charleston to Atlanta when Scarlett decided to leave the United States. She realized that at first she needed to go to Atlanta to collect her things from the dark, now empty house which she loved in the past, but hated now, although it was the house where Bonnie was born and where she lived with Rhett, where she could have been happy, but lost her chance only due to herself. But was it her entire fault? Why didn't Rhett see his own mistakes and misdoings?

"Everything was about empty hopes. Childhood dreams of a child longing for the moon, which is Rhett's expression. God, two similar nights with the same outcome! I was a complete lovesick fool if I had thought that we could have reconciled," Scarlett thought.

Scarlett was thinking about traveling to London where Bonnie, her blue-eyed angel, traveled with Rhett right before the tragic accident on the stairs when Scarlett fell and miscarried and also before the horse accident that resulted in her daughter's death. She didn't know why London and what she would do there. She simply wanted to be in the place where her precious Bonnie was right before her death. What she will do there, Scarlett decided to think about tomorrow.

"I have to leave the United States and the whole South because I cannot have an out-of-wedlock child if Rhett divorces me. It will be a shame for all my family. I don't want my child to be called a bastard," Scarlett thought. Then she began talking with herself as though Rhett had heard her. "Rhett, please, don't divorce me! If you doesn't divorce me, later I will be able to return with child and tell you the truth. Rhett, I wanted to tell you, but I didn't have a chance. I cannot throw myself at you again."

Scarlett sighed heavily. She persuaded herself that she had to leave and had to do it urgently. Besides, those places were filled with sad, tragic memories, and new environment was right what she needed at that time. What was the purpose of staying in the South of the United? Was it a simple anticipation of Rhett's actions or vague hopes to reconcile with him? Why should she wait for another misdeed form Rhett's side? Didn't she have the right to find her own peace and her composure? Scarlett decided that she couldn't have waited when Rhett would awake from his slumber and his alcoholic gibbiness. Scarlett had to leave.

Scarlett took an oath to stay away from Rhett. She promised herself that she would try to find her happiness and her peace and protect that peace from Rhett's undignified treatment and destructive influence. If she escapes now, Rhett won't be with her when her child is born, and, probably, it would be even better for her, Scarlett mused. When Scarlett's mind replayed the events of the past months and her sensual heart was fulgurated by the bitter taste of Rhett's barbarity, she felt appeased because her decision to flee the United States seemed to be correct.

Now she was a very wealthy, powerful woman, perhaps, one of the richest people in the whole South. She was overwhelmed with happiness and personal satisfaction because finally she became financially independent from Rhett Butler whom she got married exclusively because of his money, status, and social security. During the war and after the defeat of the Confederacy, she had to live at Tara close to the borders of starvation and stood in awe of hunger during several after-war years. Having inherited Pierre's money, Scarlett no longer had to care for saving money for tomorrow, which brought to her heart a great sense of relief. She felt blessed because she would be able to provide her unborn child with everything in abundance and make the life of this child secure and stable.

Scarlett arrived in Atlanta in the early afternoon. She stepped off the platform and went inside the building of the railway station. As she went out into the city street, it seemed as though the whole street had stared at her. Mrs Merriweather and Mrs Elsing glanced at her and their brows furrowed in unison as they began to discuss unpleasant something, which obviously related to Scarlett. Other passers-by also gave to Scarlett disapproving, even condemning glances. Instead of surrendering to them, Scarlett raised her chin up and made her way to the carriageway. She quickly stopped the carriage and climbed inside. Now she was going to her old house on Peachtree Street, where she and Rhett had spent so many years of their unhappy marriage.

Soon Scarlett entered her old dark house her mausoleum. Her only purpose was to pack her things and make some mandatory things before her final departure to Europe. She could no longer stay in Atlanta, Georgia, and even the whole South because she didn't want Rhett to discover that she had been carrying his child. She was afraid of it because Rhett was a powerful man with numerous connections and hence could easily take her child from her after the child's birth. Scarlett didn't doubt it that her husband would use each and every tool, whether legitimate or illegal, to get what he wanted and take her child from her. For Scarlett this child meant all her life. This child was her new beginning, her last chance for happiness in this cruel life that seemed to be so pitiless to her. Scarlett loved this child unconditionally, madly, and completely right from the moment she had discovered her pregnancy.

Driven by determination to leave her past life behind, Scarlett went to Henry Hamilton's office. She wanted to announce her travel plans and notify the old lawyer bout her final upcoming departure from the United States to Europe.

Henry Hamilton cast a quizzical, serious look at Scarlett. "So you are leaving soon, Scarlett," the old lawyer's voice stroke a chord.

Scarlett shook her head in agreement. "Yes, I am, Uncle Henry."

"Where are you going, my lady? Will your husband accompany you?"

Shifting uncomfortably under his scrutiny, Scarlett sighed. "If you want to remind me about the rules of proper society, you are wasting your time, Henry Hamilton," she said emphatically.

"Scarlett, don't perceive my words as a bayonet assault." Henry rose abruptly and took her by the arm.

"I have never bothered about what people were talking about me, and I will never bother myself with those foolish things," she said tartly, her eyes snapping fire. She looked into Henry's eyes and saw they were kind. The old man liked Scarlett and didn't mean to insult her. The anger went out of her heart as that thought came to her.

"Where are you going, Scarlett?" Henry pressed on.

"I am leaving for London very soon."

Henry Hamilton stared questionably at Scarlett. "London?"

Scarlett nodded in confirmation. "London."

"And where do you plan to go from London?"

"I am going to visit my French relatives in France," Scarlett replied.

"The Robillards?"

"Yes, Uncle Henry."

Henry shut his eyes for a second. "Scarlett, please take a sit and tell me how I can help you."

"Thank you, Uncle Henry. You know that I have given a word to Melanie on her deathbed to take care of Ashley, and I will follow my word. That's why I am here."

"Pray continue, Scarlett," he said, looking at her attentively.

"I want to open the special bank account for Ashley and Beau at the Atlanta National Bank. Also, I hope that you will be the administrator of this account. I will deposit a tidy amount of money on this account," Scarlett said.

The old lawyer's eyes sparkled. "A tidy amount of money?"

"Rather substantial," she said briefly.

"We need to draft and sign the bank account contract, Scarlett. Then, as your lawyer and legal representative, I will come to the bank and open it on behalf of Beau."

"I suppose so, Uncle Henry. This is the reason for my visit."

The next hour was spent in the drafting of the bank account contract. Henry Hamilton gave to Scarlett the standard account contract, and she read it, asking questions.

"Which specific conditions of the funds usage should we include in the bank contract? Have you thought about the lists of expenses for Beau, which we need to cover?" Henry requested.

"The funds from this account should be used to cover tuition expenses, including governess fees, school fees, and other learning expenses, monthly living expenses, which India will be able to estimate precisely well, much better than I can," Scarlett answered confidently.

"In this case I will talk to India. I suppose we also need to think about possible extraordinary expenses," Henry Hamilton noticed carefully.

"Yes, I agree. Moreover, I want to include in the account agreement the terms that funds may be used to cover temporary liquidity shortfalls of Ashley's lumber businesses."

"It is a good idea, Scarlett, especially in the light of the recent financial panic that happened in New York. Have you heard about it?"

"Yes, I did," Scarlett confirmed. "How did everything began?"

"Scarlett, Europe has been in economic depression since 1871. The situation is especially harsh in France as the country sank into the deepest economic depression after _the Second French Empire_ had been defeated in the aftermath of _the Franco-Prussian War of 1870-1871_," Henry explained.

The Financial Panic of 1873 was a financial crisis that triggered a severe international economic depression in both Europe and the United States. The fall in demand for silver on a global scale caused that panic to happen. The beginning of panic resulted in Germany's decision to abandon the silver standard in the wake of _the Franco-Prussian war of 1870-1871_. Everything began in 1871 in Europe. In 1871, _Otto Eduard Leopold, Prince of Bismarck, Duke of Lauenburg, _simply known as_ Otto von Bismarck, _decided to cease minting silver thaler coins in the aftermath of the defeat of _the Second French Empire_ and accordingly the reign of _Napoleon III_. The issue was that Germany extracted a large indemnity in gold from the defeated French government and hence no longer needed silver coins. Therefore, Germany abandoned the silver standard, opening the way for the new gold standard to gradually change the previous monetary system.

The first symptoms of the crisis were financial failures in the Austro-Hungary, mainly in Vienna, which spread to most of Europe and to North America by 1873. High post-war inflation, numerous speculative investments, mainly in railroads, as well as a large trade deficit in many countries, significantly contributed to the economic depression. In addition, general economic dislocation in Europe, being was a direct consequence of _the Franco-Prussian War of 1870-1871_, played a great role in the economic depression in the whole Europe.

In the United States, additional factors of the economic depression were significant property losses in Chicago in 1871 and Boston fires in 1872, as well as many other factors that put a massive strain on bank liquid reserves, which plummeted nearly twofold in New York during September-October 1873. In September 1873, _Jay Cooke & Company_, which was a major component of the United States banking system, was unable to sell the Northern Pacific Railway bonds in the open market. The money of Cooke's firm, like many other banking institutions, was invested heavily in the railroads. While businesses were still expanding and growing but at lower and lower pace, the money the entrepreneurs needed to finance that growth was becoming scarcer and scarcer. The failure of _Jay Cooke & Company_ was followed by that of _Henry Clews_, which caused the recurring chain reaction of bank failures. The New York stock market was temporarily closed for ten days starting 20 September, 1871.

In the autumn of 1871, the first consequences of that Panic in New York became evident. Building construction was halted, wages of many workers were cut, and real estate values began to fall. Another threat was that soon corporate profits would decrease largely and in the railroad sector would vanish completely. It was also clear that construction of new railroads, which were formerly one of the backbones of the economy, would plummet in the upcoming 1874.

"Oh!" Scarlett breathed. "And what will the consequences be like? Is everything so serious?"

"It is very serious, Scarlett. Now the railroad construction will contract substantially. Real estate prices will go down." He paused and rubbed his nose. "I hope you aren't planning to sell any assets in Georgia now."

"No, I don't," she returned.

"Good."

"Is the Atlanta National Bank reliable?" Scarlett asked, feeling dizziness that overcame her. She closed her green eyes but no relief followed.

"Yes, this bank is reliable. Don't worry, Scarlett. Are you alright?" he asked anxiously.

"Yes, I am. May I have a glass of water?" Her voice was shaking. She rose to her feet and humbly took a glass from Henry's hands. She took a small sip and felt better as nausea and dizziness retreated.

"Take a sit, Scarlett. You look rather pale. Maybe, you should visit Doctor Meade?" Henry looked at her queerly and heedfully.

"No, no, I am fine, Uncle Henry. It is that I don't sleep well after… erm… after all these tragedies," the green eyes became befogged with melancholy. She was afraid that the old lawyer would suspect something and strained all her will to endure the conversation with him. Maybe, she will be lucky and her explanation will satisfy Henry.

"I understand, Scarlett. You have a lot on your mind," he replied patronizingly.

"Uncle Henry, I think that somebody from your business associates should start auditing the books of the mills on a regular basis in order to advise accurately and in time on the amount of funds necessary for the business if such necessity arises. The fees for the work of this business associate will be paid from my personal bank account," Scarlett ended, her eyes blazing in anticipation.

"How much do you want to deposit on the account?" Henry demanded her to answer.

"Let's start from twenty thousand dollars. We can increase this amount, depending on the circumstances. We will see how the mills will be working," Scarlett answered.

"This is a very generous proposal. Thank you, Scarlett."

"That's fine, Uncle Henry. I gave Melanie a word and will follow it until my dying day."

"I am very proud of you," Henry said gratefully.

"Thank you, Uncle Henry. Can you please take care of the money that Rhett transferred to me as the divorce settlement, as he claims it to be?"

Henry Hamilton nearly jumped from the armchair. "Do you the divorce settlement transferred by Rhett Butler?"

"Yes, divorce settlement. I don't need Rhett's money. I want you to transfer it back to Rhett's account as soon as possible," Scarlett instructed him.

"Scarlett, you need this money. He is your husband, and it is his legal obligation to support you, including granting you a divorce settlement."

"I don't need his money. I have my own money," she insisted.

"Scarlett, your store is profitable now, but that is not enough to cover all your living expenses."

"Uncle Henry, I inherited all of Pierre Robillard's great fortune. He died in Savannah several weeks ago and made me his only legal heiress. This is the reason why I don't need Rhett's money. I also don't need our old house on Peachtree Street, although Rhett intends to keep my name in the deeds."

"I didn't know, Scarlett. I am very sorry for your grandfather's death. Congratulations on your inheritance."

"Thank you, Uncle Henry." Scarlett smiled at Henry. Then she gave a resolute, unflinching look to him. "Will you transfer the money back to Rhett's account?"

"Yes, I will," Henry promised. His eyes flickered with silent ravishment.

A vague smile touched her lips. "Thank you, Uncle Henry."

Henry sighed oppressively. It was apparent that he didn't like what Scarlett was intending to do. "Welcome, Scarlett," he said.

"Will you please inform Rhett's lawyer that I don't need his house? Let his name stay in the deeds."

" I will do it," Henry agreed. His voice was sodden with a note of reluctance.

"May I ask you to coordinate some of my deals with my lawyer from Savannah?" Scarlett added.

"Yes, of course, Scarlett. What is his name?"

"His name is Mr Ralph Massart."

"It is settled, Scarlett."

"Thank you, Uncle Henry." She smiled with gratitude. "I am going to Savannah before I am off to Europe. I will ask Mr Massart to contact you."

"Scarlett," Henry Hamilton called.

Scarlett raised her eyebrows. "I am listening."

"Are you sure that you want Rhett to undertake the official divorce proceedings? It would ruin the reputation of your family, covering your name by indelible shame and by unforgettable dishonor. It would be extremely scandalous, and people will never forget about that," Henry said in a serious, steady baritone. He tried to save her from the mistake, if it was a mistake, she could commit. Henry suspected that Scarlett had loved Rhett, and that understanding pushed him to protect her from possible unamendable, fatal mistakes.

"Rhett has had already ruined my reputation multiple times when he left me on the day of Melanie's death. He did that when he had run away with Bonnie to London and took my child from me before her death. If you recall, Rhett invited me for the dance on that charity bazaar despite my mourning for Charles Hamilton. Henry, he actually ruined my reputation when he told me for the first time that it would be always better to live without reputation. He encouraged me not to give a damn about the rules of proper society," Scarlett elaborated.

"Scarlett, I understand you. But I am talking about the official divorce, not about the internal problems in your matrimony."

"I see, Uncle Henry. Whatever you mean by ruining both my life and the reputation of my family had already been done by Rhett Butler in the distant past. Therefore, if Rhett indeed wants to get the divorce, I won't object and will sign the divorce petition and others documents."

"Scarlett, please think one more time."

Scarlett smiled lamentably. "Actually, I have already signed some documents when I saw Rhett last time." She shrugged. "Perhaps, I will need to sign something else. Don't mind doing that," she added.

"As you wish, young lady... My mission is to warn you against irrecoverable mistakes and yours is to make a final decision," Henry Hamilton's face hardened, and his eyes grew wide in amusement for Scarlett's determination to grant divorce to Rhett.

"Better the devil you know than the devil that you don't know and whose behavior you will never grasp. And it appears that I don't know Rhett Butler," Scarlett's brows rushed together in a deep frown.

"Scarlett, your marriage with Rhett has always been questionable to me. I mean why you married him... because it was apparent for me that you cared for nothing, except for his money. You were chasing after Ashley Wilkes for years, and, personally, I was astonished how Rhett tolerated this."

"Uncle Henry, I have no intention to discuss my personal relations with Rhett with you."

Henry forced a smile. "Scarlett, I mean no harm. Please believe me."

"I am sorry, Uncle Henry," Scarlett said, tossing her head with a vague smile. "But if you are pleased, I don't have any plans to pursue Ashley Wilkes, even if Rhett divorces me."

"Scarlett, let me continue. But then suddenly something changed, and for me it was evident that your affection to Ashley weakened day by day, if not disappeared at all. I wonder now if it ever existed. I don't give credence to the gossips India spread about you. But what I saw clearly is that Rhett Butler had been deeply in love with you since the war. And then Rhett changed astoundingly. I ascribe this to Bonnie's death…" Henry's voice trailed off, and he looked seriously at Scarlett.

"In this case, maybe divorce is the only option for us to find our fickle peace. Maybe, there are no other suitable alternatives," Scarlett said obstinately. She thought about Rhett again, and desperation came back to her.

"Scarlett, I hope that Rhett will cool off his mind and you will talk to each other properly and in a civil manner, as a husband and a wife," Uncle Henry signed heavily, and his face expressed hopeful elegance.

Was it possible to talk to Rhett as a husband and as a wife? Scarlett wasn't sure that it would happen in the nearest future. She shrugged and her far away voice spoke. "Perhaps, it will be so, Uncle Henry. Rhett Butler's behavior is very unpredictable." She paused and sighed. Then she went on. "Can I also ask you to keep an eye on my store?"

"Yes, Scarlett. It is not a problem. One of my business associates will be at your entire disposal for the management of your store. I will let you know his name later."

"Thank you, Uncle Henry," a breath of relief escaped her lips.

"I suppose you would probably change your mind regarding the possibility of the official divorce."

"It is very unlikely," she contradicted.

Henry Hamilton shrugged. "Oh, Scarlett." He paused and looked at her. "Honestly, personally I understand you because Rhett Butler's behavior has always been so scandalous, but the way he now treats you is absolutely disgusting and inexcusable for a gentleman," Henry claimed and sighed regrettably.

"Thank you for your support. Rhett is not a gentleman and he has never been. I am perfectly fine and will be fine," she responded crisply.

"I hope so," he admitted slowly.

"Uncle Henry, please keep an eye on Ashley. He is so weak and fragile now," Scarlett shook the hand of the old lawyer.

"I will. I truly hope that in Europe you will feel better. Don't worry because I won't disclose your problems with Rhett in public."

"I know that I can trust you. Thank you, Uncle Henry."

"Goodbye, Scarlett. Have a safe trip," Henry Hamilton said. Henry saw strange warmth and a glimmer of hope in her eyes, which, given the past events in Scarlett's life, he couldn't explain.

"Goodbye, Uncle Henry," Scarlett purred and smiled playfully. Spinning on her heel, she marched from the room, leaving a relieved silence behind her.

It was evident that Henry Hamilton felt truly sorry for Scarlett. He tried to support her as much as he could, and Scarlett appreciated his sincere, gentle care for her. Moreover, he admired Scarlett and respected her for actions, as well as her strong will of iron and ability to withstand so much sorrow and torment on her young shoulders.

Scarlett also visited her "beloved" Ashley. She always smiled against her will when she remembered that Rhett had nicknamed Ashley as "_wooden-headed and honorable._" Of course, it was Rhett's dark irony. However, the wooden-headed knight was licking dust and aches after Melanie's death. How ironic everything turned out to be, Scarlett thought.

Racked by the conflicting emotions that tore through her heart, Scarlett could only stare up at the door of Ashley's bedroom. One part of Scarlett was longing to cast herself into Ashley's arms, embrace of a childhood friend, and to appease him that he will survive through that calamity and will feel better soon. At the same time, another part of her heart was beginning to hate Ashley for his significant role in the failure of her marriage to Rhett. And that part of her heart rejected those softer emotions and longed to be free of Ashley and to leave his house as soon as it was possible.

Realization that whatever Scarlett felt, it might be the last time in many months ahead she would ever see Ashley chilled her. Even if she never saw Ashley again and never heard his deep, flat voice talking about honor and the Old South, Scarlett wanted him to return back to the normal life. Guilt for even thinking of any hate for Ashley slashed through her heart. Vile, wicked creature that you are, she cursed herself silently. She had to spend some time with Ashley, she said to herself. She had to talk to him. She had to make an attempt to drag him from his despair and his misery. She will do it. She will keep her promise to her dear Melanie even if she didn't appreciate fussing around Ashley.

Scarlett took a step to the door of Ashley's bedroom, but India placed a restraining hand on her arm. "Scarlett, please don't leave. I need your help. I don't know what to do with Ashley. I need you here with me today."

"I am not leaving, India," Scarlett smiled dazedly up at her, the full import of her words gradually taking her mind. It was all she could do to choke back the giggle of laughter that bubbled up in her throat in the light of hearing such words from India Wilkes. "I will stay and talk to Ashley."

"Thank you very much. I want to convince him to stand up from the bed and leave the bedroom."

"Let's try," Scarlett stated. "Although I am not sure he will listen."

"If he listens to anybody, it will be only you, Scarlett," India assured her.

Scarlett gave a half shrug. "I will try."

India's behavior came in the light of an utter surprise for Scarlett. India Wilkes, who hated Scarlett throughout her whole life, was civil and polite, thanking Scarlett for her agreement to help Ashley. They had never been friends earlier. They hadn't even acted as polite, indifferent strangers because India had always taken any opportunity to humiliate and insult Scarlett and to spread rumors about her. There had always been emotional estrangement, disdain, and even hatred between these two women, but now the common bond of worry and fear for Ashley banished these feelings, and for the first time in eternity the closeness they had never known was in full effect. Now they had the same purpose – to help Ashley return back to normal everyday life.

Scarlett knocked at the door of the small bedroom. Half a minute passed, and nobody answered. She knocked again, and again nobody replied. Only after the third attempt, a muffled growling filled the vacuum of the room. Scarlett opened the door and entered the bedchamber. India followed her.

Scarlett found Ashley in an advanced state of alcohol intoxication, completely devastated and distressed. For an instance, Ashley and Scarlett's eyes locked, and they held each other's gaze. Startled, she stared at Ashley's worn-out dark face, which she had loved so much in the past. He used to be a handsome man, and now all handsomeness evaporated – grief took it. Her heart went down in the sight of Ashley: his face was deathly pale and haggard, with hollow cheeks and dark circles under his eyes; his hair was disheveled and unwashed, with long bangs spilling over his left eye; he was unshaven at least for several days, with extra-long whiskers and scrubby chin; his grey eyes were dead, in addition red and swollen as though he had spent many hours in hot tears, and there was no sparkle and no life in them.

Ashley turned his head away from Scarlett. He was sitting in his large bed, which occupied almost all the room. He was wearing his white rumple, tatty shirt unbuttoned down to his waist. Scarlett managed to see that his grey eyes were unmistakably befogged with alcohol. Scarlett and India discovered three empty bottles of whiskey on the floor near the bed. Scarlett's gaze stopped on two broken glasses on the floor near the window.

"Good afternoon, Ashley," Scarlett asked gently. She forced an ambiguous smile. "How are you doing?"

"Scarlett, my dear," Ashley began, not looking at her. "I am doing well. Thank you for asking me."

"Ashley, look at me," Scarlett demanded with authority.

"Scarlett… I…" he stammered. He didn't turn his head.

"Ashley, look at me," Scarlett pressed on.

"What do you want, Scarlett?" he inquired. He lifted his eyes at her. Green and grey eyes locked.

"Did you drink whiskey?" she questioned, looking at the empty bottles near the bed.

"Yes, I did," his brief reply followed. "It helps me forget."

"You must stop drinking! You must! You are destroying yourself," Scarlett began, wondering what the outcome of this extraordinary situation would be.

"I don't care, Scarlett. Please, leave me alone in this room," Ashley looked frowningly at them. His crystal grey eyes flew to India. "Oh, I see my sister is also here."

"Melanie is watching you from Heaven. Why do you disappoint her so much?" Scarlett insisted.

"Please, Ashley, believe me, Melly is sad now," India's please followed.

"Scarlett, you don't understand… Melanie is gone… I cannot live without her," Ashley was crying in his drunken condition. Large hot tears were streaming down his hollow cheeks.

In all their years together, Scarlett had never seen Ashley so obviously distressed, and she said in a softer voice: "Ashley, Melly wants you to be brave as she looks at you from Heaven. She wants you to take care of Beau. Don't forget about your son. He is Melanie's son."

"Ashley, listen to us! Melly would be sad if she saw you in such a terrible condition," India added.

"I loved her so much and now she is gone!" Ashley burst out. "Oh God, my Melly! Don't leave me!" His voice was nearly a moan, vexed and tired.

"Ashley, I have always admired you for your honor and intelligence. Now when Melanie is gone, it is a matter of honor for you to take care of her son. Please, don't disappoint Melanie," Scarlett pressed on, "Please, stand up from the bed and let us help you to go to the bathroom. Later you will have a dinner with Beau, India, Aunt Pitty, and me."

"My Melanie… Scarlett, you don't understand. If you only knew what I had gone through since she had died… If you only knew…" Ashley didn't listen to Scarlett and India. He avoided their eyes.

"Ashley, please, you must stand up now! We will help you to go to the bathroom," India repeated. "You need to get out of this room. Think about Beau!"

"Ashley, don't be selfish. I know how you feel when you lose a person whom you truly love," Scarlett drawled in a weak voice, trying not to look at Ashley to conceal her irritation. "My daughter died several months ago, while my husband is so grief-stricken that he seems to have lost his mind. And I am trying to help him and to help myself. At times I remember Bonnie, and it is very painful… Ashley, I comprehend you perfectly well."

"I am sorry, Scarlett. I am a selfish fool… I am a weak creature…" Ashley confessed wholeheartedly. He glanced at Scarlett with his frantically wandering eyes and grabbed her right hand, squeezing it tightly. "Melanie and you always took my burdens from my shoulders."

"Ashley, please think about Beau! He needs you," Scarlett's voice splashed out.

"My dear Scarlett, you have always helped me so much," Ashley whimpered.

"Ashley, don't lose your courage!" India interjected.

Scarlett smiled tenderly at Ashley and put her hand on his cheek. "Ashley, you come back to normal life for Beau's sake. Melanie will always be with you, in your heart and your soul. She is also a part of your son – her son. Beau needs you so much. Take a deep breath and go ahead!"

Scarlett looked at India and smiled, their eyes locked and India returned a grateful smile to Scarlett. A small silence fell. It was a thoughtful pause. Ashley's gaze rested for a long moment on Scarlett's face, and she was very uncertain what he was thinking about.

"Yes," he replied briefly.

"Do my ears deceive me," Scarlett slightly drawled. "Or did I just hear that you d with me?"

Lifting his chin and attentively gazing at Scarlett and India, Ashley swallowed. "Yes, I do agree with you. But I still don't know how to live without Melanie," he murmured.

"You will cope, Ashley," India encouraged him. "We will help you. We need you, brother."

"Thank you," Ashley whispered.

Finally, Ashley agreed to leave the bedroom. When Ashley climbed out of his bed and reluctantly went to the bathroom, India and Scarlett were left alone and went downstairs to the parlor.

Later Ashley appeared downstairs. He was properly shaven, his hair properly washed and brushed. His eyes were still bloodshot from drinking. He was casually dressed, wearing the fine white, full-sleeved shirt that was partly unbuttoned. His dark blue trousers were simple and unadorned. His cravat was light blue, accurately arranged above his shirt. His shoes of russet leather were plain, without beautiful silver or gold fashionable buckles. He wasn't wearing a tailcoat. But even in such unremarkable clothing, Ashley undoubtedly looked much better than earlier.

Scarlett decided to stay for the dinner because she knew that she wouldn't see them again for uncertain amount of time. After the dinner, when Ashley went back to his bedroom to sleep and Beau was arranged for the night, Scarlett and India went to the small reception room where Scarlett intended to talk to India about her new circumstances - leaving Atlanta for Europe.

"India, please look after Ashley carefully and don't let him drink himself to death," Scarlett said in a muffled tone. "It will give him no good eventually. Trust me, partly from my own experience."

"I will try to do it, but you know him. I hope he will take care at least of himself, though I have great doubt that he will be able to in the foreseeable future," India answered in quite peaceful manner, to Scarlett's please and surprise.

Scarlett grimaced in disbelief that they managed to console drunken Ashley. "I truly hope that Ashley will step on his feet for Beau's sake and for his own sake. I think we have won the first round today, India. At least he left his bedroom."

"Thank you very much for your help," India said with gratitude. "He has been remaining in that miserable condition since Melanie's death for several months." India clapped her hands in frustration.

"I know." Scarlett nodded. "India, I want you to know that I am going on the extended trip to Europe with my husband and don't know when we will be back. As I said, I promised Melanie to take care of Beau and Ashley, and I will keep my word. I have opened special bank account on behalf of Beau, which is managed by Uncle Henry," Scarlett paused to clear her throat. She said that she was leaving with Rhett in order to hedge herself at least for some time against future troublesome gossips about the true state of Butler's marriage. She didn't care whether India had believed her.

"I hope this trip to Europe will help you and Captain Butler to feel better."

"I hope so, India."

"I am giving to you my sincere condolences for the loss of your small daughter," India spoke out wistfully.

"Thank you, India. Uncle Henry has all the documents and knows other details. Please contact him to discuss the questions of monthly expenses. Henry will help you in all other matters. As for me, I am no longer able and willing to deal with the mills, and one of Henry's business associates will keep a close eye on them. I will deposit funds necessary to cover liquidity shortfalls if any of them arise. We will control it with Uncle Henry. It is easier for me to cover the funds shortfall not to let the business go bankrupt for a while. I can do nothing more now," a long explanation tumbled from Scarlett's lips, and she sighed with relief.

"Thank you, Scarlett. Take care and have a pleasant trip," India answered, feeling adoration for Scarlett's actions, but not showing this to her former enemy.

"You too, India, take care of yourself, Beau, and Ashley. If something happens with Beau or Ashley, you can contact me through Uncle Henry who will have my correspondence address. This is all for now."

"Goodbye, Scarlett."

"Goodbye, India."

Scarlett left Ashley's house and went back to her old house on Peachtree Street. In the morning she took the packed things and headed to the Atlanta train station with a strong determination to start her new life which she will build for her unborn child, Rhett's child, the child of the only person whom she loved genuinely and will love forever. Her sweet secret was her only hope for happiness, peace, and tranquility. For Scarlett, it was a bright light at the end of the tunnel.

Scarlett took the train to Savannah from Atlanta in the afternoon together with her luggage. She didn't take huge luggage with her because she aimed to leave the past behind. So that she took enough things with her for the next month and planned to make good shopping in London. She remembered that Rhett had always known all the best shops in London and Paris and bought for her lots of expensive, newly fashionable gowns, bonnets, wrappers, jewelry, and other things in Europe. The past was left behind.

Scarlett sighed and looked back to the moment when she left Atlanta for Savannah, leaving in this cruel town all her pain and sorrow, as she assured herself on a multitude of occasions. However, not only tragedies and pain were left behind, but also her sweet days with Bonnie and the initial time of her marriage to Rhett when everything hadn't gone terribly wrong because of her stubbornness, selfishness, and foolishness. Scarlett also had to leave behind her childhood, the only time when she was truly happy and lived careless life. It was pity that she had to leave Tara, Mammy, Carreen, and even Suellen who hated her. The only thing that Scarlett had thrown away back to her childhood was her love for Ashley. She reminisced that in her early childhood days, she saw Ashley many times, but never gave him any single thought. Scarlett decided that she loved Ashley when her returned from a three-year Grand Tour in Europe and came to Tara with his father to pay the O'Hara family his respects for the first time after his longstanding absence in the South.

"Damn the day when Ashley called on us at Tara after his arrival from Grand Tour in Europe! How I hate that day! I will cut it from my memory and blacken it out!" Scarlett's mind was swirling in many thoughts, her eyes blazing from anger and danger. "Ashley, you destroyed my life and happiness, even if you didn't want to do it. Damn your honor and gentlemanlike manners! You are a boring, stupid dreamer, weakling, who always depended on Melanie and never stood on his own feet as a man, in contrast to Rhett. What a fool I was."

* * *

_If you would be dear and let me know what you think of Ashley in this chapter, I would be very grateful to you. Personally, I think that such a miserable condition is natiural for him after Melly's death._

_Thank you!_

_Reviews are very much appreciated._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**Time in Savannah and leaving Charleston behind**

Scarlett arrived in Savannah in the late afternoon. Founded in 1733, Savannah was one of the oldest settlements in the United States, which became the state capital of Georgia. Savannah was also known as the America's first planned city that attracted millions of visitors. The city had a lot of historical architecture ensembles, like _the Telfair Academy of Arts and Sciences_, being one of the South's first public museums, and _the First African Baptist Church_, being one of the oldest black Baptist congregations in the United States.

The original layout of the city was the Neo-classical design of its central part, which was connected to the exterior by three main roads: the Savannah-Augusta to the north, the Savannah-Dublin Road to the west and the King's Road, which connected Savannah to the English military settlements of Forts Argyle, Barrington and Frederica to the south. Located off the King's Road, spur roads connected numerous plantations to the expanding and increasingly urban market in Savannah.

Nothing changed in the 1870s, and the city continued to be dominated by the Neo-classical style, which was so traditional for the antebellum society of the old South. However, the architectural design of the city was still more diverse than that in Charleston. Savannah's wealthy inhabitants lived in the Neo-Gothic, the English Regency, the Steamboat Gothic and the Victorian mansions, while middle class often lived in petite Victorian cottages. Charleston was mainly dominated by the Neo-Classical and Classical style, and only some houses were built in the style of Gothic revival.

The development of Savannah in the 19th century was dominated by the cotton plantations and rice plantations. Indeed, cotton was a widespread crop, playing the major role in the economy of the city. In the antebellum society, Savannah amassed an enormous amount of wealth, exporting goods of great values. However, that wealth came about as the result of the slave trade. Throughout the 1860s, Savannah's population increased only slightly and its wealth plummeted considerably, which was the result of the abolition of slavery and the destruction of the plantation form of economy. After the war with the Yankees, cotton industry continued to dominate in the city economy, which remained undiversified. After the cancellation of slavery, Savannah retained a consistent number of free African Americans throughout, and many of them were engaged in a variety of entrepreneurial activities. However, the majority of former slaves were still rather poor and many of them served their former plantations masters and mistresses.

With its Spanish moss-covered live oaks and magnolias, a great multitude of historic buildings and enchanting gardens, Savannah was the greatest picture of the Old South. Numerous weddings, masquerades, parties, and balls, planned by Savannah's wealthy females and infamous boat races and regattas on the Savannah River were the part of that old Southern charm, accompanied by traditional Southern hospitality. In general, Scarlett liked Savannah because it allowed her to feel as though she had touched the Old South and the old days of her childhood when she was happy and carefree. In the meantime, she knew that she would never be able to live there permanently: the city was too monotonous and too routine for her as the old Southern charm didn't imply energetic and dynamic life.

Leaving her luggage at the railway station at the office of the shipment service for one day and two nights as she negotiated, Scarlett hired the carriage and headed to her grandfather's old house near _Franklin Square_ laid out in 1790 and named for _Benjamin Franklin_, who served as an agent for the colony of Georgia from 1768 to 1778.

Pierre Robillard's house in the center of Savannah was a large grand mansion. It had classical high columns and was very symmetrical in each detail, with its classic clapboard exterior and bold, simple lines. In addition, the house was covered from head to toe in elaborate carved rose woodwork. The house was very heavily ornamented. Pierre's house wasn't the finest, pure symbol of the antebellum Greek and the Greek revival architecture – it was a product of the mixture of the styles classical Greek revival with some Baroque and Rococo elements. Pierre Robillard used such a combination of styles because it reminded him about the excessive Rococo and the Baroque ornamentation from his beloved France. However, as it wasn't acceptable to have the mansion in the Baroque style in Savannah, Pierre decided in favor of the mixture of the styles. The entire mansion - the grand living room, many reception rooms, the large ballroom, the bedrooms, the study room, and the dining room - was decorated in pink in accordance with his deceased beloved wife Solange's wishes and tastes.

Although nobody from the masters lived in the house, the servants still worked there. Benjamin, the old majordomo who served in the house for more than forty years, opened the door and greeted his new mistress. The maid Claire brought Scarlett's bag upstairs and left it in one of the rooms.

Polite and talkative, Benjamin tried to make Scarlett's evening as comfortable as possible and brought to her room the tray with the dinner, consisting of white French wine, white meat, foie gras with mustard seeds and green onions in duck, and blueberry pancakes for desert. Having finished the dinner, Scarlett rang the bell, and Benjamin appeared to take the tray away.

"Mrs Butler, this is the dinner for you," the majordomo Benjamin said.

"Thank you, Benjamin," Scarlett replied as she started eating white meat. "Did Mr Daniel Rittmeyer or his secretary Mr Olivier Stancliff come here?"

Benjamin shook his head in negative response. "No, neither of them returned."

"It is a great pity," Scarlett said. "I still owe Mr Rittmeyer some money and my gratitude for his help."

"If somebody from Mr Rittmeyer comes here, I will tell you."

"Did you try to find this gentleman?"

"Yes, I did," the majordomo stated. "But even your grandfather's lawyer Mr Massart knows nothing about him. It appears Mr Rittmeyer is not from Savannah."

"Maybe," Scarlett admitted as she put a fine piece of foie gras into her mouth. "His speech was a little different from how we are usually talking."

"I will let you know if I hear from this gentleman."

Scarlett nodded in response. "Thank you."

"Goodnight, Mrs Butler. If you need something else, please let me know. The maid will take the tray later."

"Thank you, Benjamin."

Standing at the doorway, the majordomo paused. "Mrs Butler, it is a coincidence, but it happened. I didn't think that Claire brought your things in this room. It is so strange…"

Scarlett lifted her eyes to him. "What do you mean, Benjamin?"

"Mister Philippe Robillard had occupied this room many years ago when he had been alive and had lived with Mister Pierre and his daughters after the death of Mister Christophe Robillard," Benjamin explained.

Scarlett raised her eyebrows. "Mister Christophe?"

"Yes, Mister Philippe's father," Benjamin replied.

"Christ in Heaven!" Scarlett exclaimed. Her cheeks were flushing. Her heart skipped one beat and then quickened twofold as she had heard Philippe's name.

Benjamin shrugged. "This room was closed on the day of Mister Philippe's departure from the house. Recently, we had to open the room. It happened on the day of Mister Pierre's death when many guests stayed overnight in the house after the funeral and the commemoration, so that there were not enough rooms to accommodate the mourners. Therefore, we opened the room."

Scarlet's voice sounded far away. She heard what the majordomo said with a mixture of imperturbable calm and fierce agitation. Her heart was hammering harder and harder. "I see," she said shortly.

"Mrs Butler, I hope you don't object staying here."

"Of course, not," she said. "Why are you asking?"

"Mister Pierre didn't like this room," the majordomo replied humbly.

"It is fine, don't worry," Scarlett said encouragingly.

"I am always at your disposal, Mrs Butler."

Scarlett rubbed her cheek. "I haven't been sleeping well in the past days, and this hectic pace is starting to wear me down. I plan to go to bed now. You may retire now."

"Thank you, Mrs Butler."

"Goodnight, Benjamin."

"Goodnight." The majordomo left.

Philippe's bedroom was the only one in the whole house where a combination of white, light blue, blue colors, and dark blue was used. Other rooms, the grand hall, the study room, the parlor, and the dining room were decorated exclusively in pink in its different variations - light pink, hot pink, pale pink, or pink. Philippe Robillard's old room neither was refurbished nor somehow changed since Philippe's departure from Savannah because the room was closed all these years. Scarlett tried to imagine what Philippe had been doing in the room and how he had lived, but she was so tired that it was impossible think. She thought how much she wanted to spend in this room some time to sleep and feel well rested. She would love to lock the door and go to sleep for a week, if it were possible.

Philippe Robillard lived in this room! Breathing deeply, she swept her eyes over the room. It was a large and airy room, full of light in the daytime from the wide, tall French windows. The decor for the most part was a charming mixture of cream and blue in its different tinctures, mainly light blue, dark blue, and navy blue. The walls were hung with a delicate shade of light blue silk, the carpet was a gorgeous blending of cream and dark blue, silky drapes of cream velvet lined the window. The sofa, chairs, the small table between the two armchairs, and the bed were made of satinwood. Other pieces of furniture were of the same gleaming satinwood. The bed was enormous and very comfortable, with its high, delicately carved headboard draped in yards and yards of navy blue satin. The satin sheets and the blanket on the bed were light blue.

Soon the maid, a young girl Claire, came into her bedroom. Claire helped Scarlett undress and soon left. Having put on her light blue silky nightgown, Scarlett approached the bed and collapsed onto it. Although Scarlett was very tired, she couldn't sleep as there was something unusual around her: in the air of the room, on the floor, in each corner, near the window. It was as though Scarlett had felt Philippe Robillard's presence in this room. But it wasn't possible! Scarlett shut her eyes tightly and imagined that someone's fingers hypnotically stroked her right temple, then left temple, then massaged her scalp, soothing her exhausted emotions into a peaceful, dreamless sleep. She dreamed she heard somebody's voice, a half whisper, lowering to a vocal murmur. She felt as though someone near her looked into the darkness as he continued to stroke her brows and temples. Was she imagining it? Suddenly, fear seized her heart. Her eyes flung open, and she shuddered. She felt as though she indeed hadn't been alone in the room.

"Who is here?" Scarlett asked in alarm, her eyes frantically wandering in the darkness.

The answer was absolute stillness. Only her labored breathing was breaking the silence. She inhaled deeply and exhaled. She no longer was frightened. Her fear transformed into sublime, intangible, inexplicable peace and tranquility, which penetrated her heart and her soul.

Scarlett hesitated for the merest second, before asking again. "Who is here?" she said in a half whisper.

She climbed out of the bed and went quickly to a marquetry side-table. She took a jag of fresh water and poured herself a drink. She drank it off at a gulp. She swung around, her eyes exploring the room. A strange sensation again penetrated her heart and her soul. She shook her head to chase away slumber and numbness from her.

"I know I am alone, but if there is a ghost here I want you to know that I am not afraid," she stated in a higher voice and laughed at herself. She shivered. The answer was again stillness. "I know I feel so strange because Philippe Robillard lived here. But if you are his ghost, then you cannot frighten and harm me because I know that Philippe loved my mother Ellen. I loved and love my mother too, and thus you, ghost, and I are friends."

Scarlett laughed aloud at herself over and over again. As her laugh died away in the volume of the room, she smiled to herself with a melancholic smile. She was sure that what she had been doing and saying aloud was pure nonsense. She felt as though she had been a small child who had been afraid of ghosts, but she didn't believe in ghosts. But she felt in all her skin and bones as though she hadn't been alone. Yes, it was a strange room. Yet, she was happy that by chance her things were placed in this room where the person, whom her dear mother Ellen loved, had lived. She felt sorrow and pain because Philippe Robillard died so young and so unhappy. She felt that Philippe had been unhappy when he had died. These extraordinary thoughts crowded into her confused mind and she couldn't beat them off, so that she turned her face into her pillow and cried herself to sleep.

In the early morning, after a light breakfast, Scarlett went to the office of her grandfather's lawyer in order to collect the necessary documents certifying her legal rights as Pierre Robillard's legitimate heiress. She planned to spend the whole day in Savannah and to leave the city next day, taking the early morning train. She intended to inquire about Pierre's relatives and acquaintances in Europe if any of them were known to the old lawyer. Scarlett was excited about her visit in the anticipation of becoming a wealthy woman, financially independent of Rhett. Although tragedies Scarlett had to make it through changed her in many aspects, she still was selfish and liked richness, and a single idea of having access to large amount of money made her heart beating with double frequency.

Lost in her thoughts, Scarlett continued her mental journey into the past and recalled her conversation with the old lawyer Mr Ralph Massart who managed Pierre's deals for more than thirty years. It was a pure business talk, very informative and at the same time pleasant.

"Thank you very much for these documents, Mr Massart. God's nightgown, I couldn't imagine that my grandfather was so rich! It will take much time for me to sort all his deals out," Scarlett was filled with admiration for what she inherited from her grandfather.

"Mrs Butler, I will always help you. Alternatively, one of my associates will always answer all of your questions," Mr Massart declared with the pleasure and in hope to please Scarlett in order to make her his loyal client.

"Thank you. You will also have to guide me through the inheritance process. Unfortunately, I don't have a detailed comprehension how foreign assets of a deceased person are transferred to heirs," Scarlett complained and smiled craftily with smoldering eyes. She was so happy to have so much money on her bank account.

"It is quite easy. The entire procedure is completed legally when the inheritor certificate is issued. To do it, you will need to look through and sign the documents I gave to you today. These papers will attest the title of your ownership of Mr Robillard's bank accounts in the Bank of Savannah, bank accounts in England, France, and all his property in the States," the old lawyer elaborated on Scarlett's question regarding inheritance procedure.

"I didn't know that my grandfather had money on his bank accounts in England," the green eyes revealed amusement.

"Your grandfather was a very practical man, and he always believed in a superior reliability of many English banks as compared to many banks from the South of the United States."

"For me it is the discovery. Why is that, Mr Massart?"

"Mrs Butler, this is a long history, but the roots come from the civil war. Besides, the recent financial panic in New York has confirmed that it was far better to keep your money in pure gold in England. You have probably heard about the collapse of a widely-known Jay Cooke & Company, one of the biggest banks in the States," Mr Massart declared confidently, and a broad smile crept onto his face.

"Yes, I have heard about it. The New York stock exchange was closed for some time. After it had been opened, the stock prices of many companies plunged," tumbled from Scarlett's lips.

"Yes, that's an accurate description of what has happened so far. This is only the beginning of the crisis, Mrs Butler," Mr Massart smiled cryptically.

"God's nightgown!" Scarlett cried in irritation. "What will happen with my money?"

"Nothing threats your money, Mrs Butler. The majority of funds money is deposited in gold at the Manchester & Liverpool District Banking Company and at the National Provincial Bank. In addition, the Bank of Savannah, where you also have money, is a reliable financial institution."

"What the Atlanta National Bank? I have some money there. My lawyer from Atlanta told me that nothing would happen with this bank, but I would love to have an alternative opinion."

"Your lawyer from Atlanta was correct. This is a reliable bank, especially for you, Mrs Butler," a wide green came across Mr Massart's face. He rose to his feet and approached window, staring outside.

"And why is that?" Scarlett's voice was sodden with confusion.

"Because your husband owns a large stake in the Atlanta National Bank," Mr Massart replied omnisciently, coming back to his desk. The old man sank awkwardly to his chair.

She forced an artificial smile. "Yes, I have remembered. It has just slipped my mind. I am sorry."

Scarlett knew that Rhett worked at the Atlanta National Bank, but she never knew that he partly owned this bank. Scarlett signed thinking about how much money Rhett Butler had on his bank accounts. It seemed to her that her husband was one of the richest people in the whole South.

There was a twiggy hint of acid in the old voice. "That's alright, Mr Butler."

"This is just the beginning of the financial crisis, isn't it? I am glad that nothing threatens my money," Scarlett signed with relief.

"The financial panic will most likely result in the prolonged economic crisis. The whole South will feel it sharply, especially given that the Democrats will soon supersede the Republicans almost everywhere in the South," Mr Massart's answer followed.

"I saw this trend in Georgia because the governor Bullock retired and left the state," her green eyes fixed on the lawyer's face. "My husband told me that it would eventually happen. He actively supported the Democrats in Atlanta."

"Your husband is a very intelligent and broad-minded man, and, of course, practical, like you." He smiled broadly. "I respect practical people, Mrs Butler. You take your fences cleanly and straightforwardly, like a good hunter. It is a very valuable quality."

"Thank you, Mr Massart." A lambent smile fell on her pale face as a sense of appreciation of the old lawyer's mindset swept through her.

"Always welcome, Mrs Butler."

"What about the inheritor certificates? I apologize that we have changed the topic of the discussion." Scarlett smiled in the most approving manner.

"That's fine, Mrs Butler. Once you sign them, send them back to me, and we will be able to issue the inheritor certificate on behalf of you, Mrs Butler."

"Mr Massart, are the proceedings the same for my grandfather's bank accounts abroad?" she asked.

"Yes, the proceedings are the same, unless you want to deal with foreign lawyers who will anyway come to me because I was leading all the deals of your esteemed grandfather," Mr Massart said proudly.

"Mr Massart, I want to do everything through your legal firm. I don't need any other lawyer. Also, I am sorry for disturbing you with the matters not related to my grandfather's deals… but I really need your help," Scarlett supplied.

"Thank you for your trust, Mrs Butler. I am at your disposal."

"The issue is that I am off to London in several days. I plan to spend there a long time. I have never been there before and don't know people there. However, to the best of my belief and knowledge, my grandfather was a powerful man coming from a well-known noble house in France. He must have many relatives and wide connections in Europe, probably, even in London. I would greatly appreciate if you could advice me on this matter," Scarlett announced, hoping that the lawyer will let her know the names of such people.

"Mrs Butler, I am at your full service. The overwhelming majority of the Robillard family comes from France. However, one lady, who is your relatively distant relative, is residing in London," Mr Massart said.

Scarlett felt warmth filling her body as soon as she heard that there was somebody from the Robillards in London. "It is wonderful! Who is this lady?" She crossed her arms on her chest.

"Her name is _Marguerite Marie Gabrielle de Robillard de Bréveaux, Duchess de Ventadour_. She is a charming middle-aged lady, a genuine representative of the old aristocracy. She lives together with her son who is the Earl of Marchmont if I am not mistaken. Probably, there are some other relatives from the Robillards who also live in London, but unfortunately I don't know their contact details, Mrs Butler."

"One contact is enough," she responded.

"I will send to her Grace_ Duchess Marguerite de Ventadour_ a telegram right now, after your visit. I will notify her about the upcoming arrival of Pierre Robillard's granddaughter in London," Mr Massart said confidently. "I think she will quickly answer with another telegram."

"Mr Massart, thank you very much!"

Mr Massart smiled at her. "You are welcome, Mrs Butler."

"Her Grace _Duchess Marguerite de Ventadour_ will be more than happy to meet you, Mrs Butler. I have once met her in London, and I was more than thrilled with delight after our meeting. She is a great lady," the lawyer assured.

Scarlett smiled. "I am happy to hear it, Mr Massart."

Scarlett was interested what her French relatives were like. She had never met them before her upcoming trip to Europe. _Duchess Marguerite de Ventadour_ and her son the Earl of Marchmont were going to be the first people who were partly Robillards by blood and whom Scarlett would meet in Europe. She hoped that they would accept her with hospitality, if not with open embrace. She had never before communicated with the genuine representatives of French and English aristocrats, and it made her a little nervous. However, Pierre Robillard's lawyer assured her that her relatives would be waiting for her in London, and it was a little appeasement for her.

It was obvious that the old lawyer liked Scarlett as a personality and admired her for her beauty, stubbornness, and adroitness in business. He especially liked Scarlett's businesslike man-to-man attitude to finance-related deals. Moreover, he was fascinated by Scarlett's vivacity and energy, which didn't fade away despite dreadful hardships and sorrow she had to face in her past.

"I greatly appreciate your efforts to help me. I am looking forward to meeting Madame Marguerite in London," Scarlett answered happily and smiled softly.

"I am very pleased that you decided to meet your relatives from the Robillard noble house. It is very important to know your historical roots," Mr Massart stated.

"My roots are not only in France, but also in Ireland because my father Gerald O'Hara was Irish. However, I want to begin my trip from London. This is the last place where my daughter Bonnie traveled with my husband right before her death not a long time ago…" Scarlett paused and her eyes darkened, her jaw clenched nervously and a glance went numb and blank.

"Mrs Butler, I am giving to you my frank condolences. I have heard that you and your husband have survived through this tragedy. I hope that you will feel better soon. Your trip to Europe will help you," Mr Massart stated sorrowfully.

A bitter taste of pain for her loss transfixed her heart, and her eyelashes fluttered down in her frustration and powerlessness. "Thank you. I am perfectly fine."

"I will also write to some close family friends of your grandfather in Paris. I will give you the names and correspondent addresses of your relatives in France and Pierre's friends both in London and in Paris," the old lawyer stated without any hesitation.

"Mr Massart, let me thank you from the bottom of my heart," Scarlett said politely. Her face visibly relaxed, which wasn't unnoticed from her sharp-sighted companion.

"I also want you to continue managing my deals as it was when my grandfather was alive. No one knows better how to manage my grandfather's deals than you do. However, I kindly ask you to stay in the cooperation with my lawyer Henry Hamilton from Atlanta," Scarlett nearly sung in a honeyed, almost sweet voice to please the old lawyer.

"Thank you, Mrs Butler. I will get in touch with Mr Hamilton. I have already met him on some business occasions. He is a very professional lawyer."

"I am delighted to hear that you know Henry Hamilton. I ask you to keep in privacy the destination of my trip and everything associated with my travel plans. I will keep you updated on a regular basis."

"Certainly, Mrs Butler. I assume we will use Madame Marguerite's address in London as your initial correspondence address."

"Please, keep paying my Aunt Eulalie and Aunt Pauline's expenses. If they ask about something, just give them money by debiting the certain amount from my personal account at the Bank of Savannah. If they need something specific, you contact me," Scarlett's words followed. "They will continue sending you the bills for further settlement."

"Mrs Butler, it is my duty and pleasure to help you. Don't worry about your aunts," Mr Massart said and sighed tiredly.

"I will write you when I arrive in London, Mr Massart," a gentle breath escaped Scarlett's lips.

"I hope you will have a pleasant trip. Please once again accept my sincere condolences for the loss of your young daughter, as well as your grandfather," the lawyer's final words followed.

"Thank you very much, Mr Massart," she replied kindly.

"You don't need to thank me, Mrs Butler. It is my pleasure and I am at your complete disposal whenever you need me. Don't worry, I will contact your lawyer from Atlanta next week just to introduce myself," Mr Massart said.

"Very well," Scarlett replied. "By the way, in the documents certifying my right on my grandfather's foreign bank accounts, his surname is not Robillard, but rather _de Robillard de Bréveaux_. Is it because of his French roots? I am asking because here my grandfather was just Pierre Robillard in Savannah."

"Your reasoning is correct. I assure you that you won't have any problems with the legal documents. In Europe the Robillards family's surname has always been _de Robillard de Bréveaux_."

"I see."

"That's why your grandfather's full name in Europe was _Pierre Jacques Alexandre de Robillard de Bréveaux_."

"I know it," Scarlett replied shortly.

"The French Robillards are very well-known. They are old French aristocrats."

"Honestly, I have never had much information about my French relatives." The green eyes beamed with happiness. "Thank you for the information."

"You are welcome."

"Now I will see myself out. Goodbye, Mr Massart."

"Goodbye, Mrs Butler," the old lawyer replied with a genuine smile and bowed to her.

Scarlett left Mr Massart's office, having all the papers for Pierre's property and money in her hands. She went to the post office to send the letter to Rhett's address in Charleston, in which she informed him that she had transferred the money, a divorce settlement, back to his account in the Atlanta National Bank. Scarlett could tell the each sentence of the farewell letter to Rhett, sent around seven months ago. She felt satisfied with what she had said written in the letter. She wanted to open the eyes of this blind man to the truth that she wasn't the only person who could be blamed for the ruined love and the unsuccessful marriage, as well as the tragedies that hit them in the past year. Scarlett wanted to pay him back in his own coin for her humiliation, opprobrium, and shameful, whore-like treatment of her.

Unfortunately, Scarlett arrived in Savannah without a personal made. She couldn't take somebody from her old servants at Tara or her house on Peachtree Street in Atlanta because they could easily discover her sweet secret while she wanted to keep her pregnancy in secret from the outside world, at least for some time. Thus, Scarlett had to find a maid in Savannah in the special agency and in the end hired a young girl Fiona on the temporary basis just for her trip to London. She hoped to rely upon one of Marguerite's maids when she arrives in London.

Scarlett decided to dispose of all the servants in the Pierre's house, except for the majordomo Benjamin who will keep an eye on the house when she was away. She didn't plan selling the house where her mother Ellen had grown up, at least not in the foreseeable future. She dismissed all the servants, giving them Mr Massart's address in other to receive the compensation for four months, which was a rather generous offer. Benjamin was supposed to continue living in the house. Scarlett ordered to cover the furniture to preserve it from the dust and to close the majority of the rooms.

She spent another night in Savannah, again in Philippe's old room. As she was lying sleepless in her bed, thoughts about her mother Ellen's childhood and about Philippe overtook her. This was the bed there Philippe had slept. Did Philippe like this room? Did her mother ever come here? Probably, it happened only when they were children because otherwise Scarlett couldn't have imagined Ellen, a pattern of a proper lady, receiving a young man in her bedroom. While her body sagged with weariness, nevertheless she was growing more anxious by the each second and was tossing restlessly in the bed. It wasn't surprising that when she finally fell asleep she slept badly and woke up tired. When the majordomo woke her up, she was like an enraged tigress as she had little time to choose the attire for the day, to dress, to have breakfast, and then to head to the railway station.

Next morning, Scarlett received the notice from Mr Ralph Massart, Pierre Robillard's lawyer. It was mentioned there that _Marguerite Marie Gabrielle de Robillard de Bréveaux, Duchess de Ventadour_, will be waiitng for Scarlett in London. Scarlett had a great feeling of relief that she wasn't going to nowhere in Europe. She was also astonished how qucikly Madame Margueriete answered to the lawyer's telgramme, and it was a sort of pleasant amazement.

Finally, Scarlett and Fiona were finally sitting on the train from Savannah to Charleston. The whole road she was like a sleep-eyed kitten until the sleep eventually claimed her for an hour or so. They arrived in Charleston at half past noon, having about five hours before boarding the ship in the harbor. Scarlett aimed to come to her Aunts Eulalie and Pauline Robillard's house on the Battery, hoping that they were at home alone. There were still some risks of having unwanted, unexpected meetings, but before such a long trip Scarlett had to visit her aunts. Knowing that Eulalie and Pauline were friends with Eleanor Butler, she prayed that Miss Eleanor wouldn't be at her Aunts' house.

Scarlett didn't want to spend even a single day in Charleston because she was afraid of possible meeting with Rhett somewhere in the city, which would bring new frustration, indignation, and mortification to her, as well as would increase the risks of her sweet secret being discovered by Rhett. Naturally full of vivacity and energy, Scarlett had always hated Charleston for its laidback, calm, routine-kind atmosphere. Now, when she was heartbroken and struggled for the shaky balance of her heart and soul, which were so necessary for her to look into the future, she could become sick even of well-modulated voices of Charleston gentlemen, voices exhibiting the flat slow drawl of a typical Charlestonian. Scarlett couldn't allow herself hear these voice patterns because it reminded her so much about Rhett. Furthermore, Scarlett knew that in Charleston folks gossiped on more occasions and meddled in other people's business more frequently and harshly than any other people in the South, and Scarlett hated it. For the sake of preservation of her sweet secret, she needed to minimize the duration of her stay in Charleston. As a result, they were leaving Charleston on the day of their arrival to Savannah.

"There is no energy and dynamics in Charleston. God's nightgown, it is a chronically stagnant city! Everything is so boring and so routine here. I wonder whether Rhett can like living in this city." A bold and sly grin appeared on Scarlett's face. "I bet Rhett won't find his damned peace and composure in Charleston. In the end he will suffer from melancholy, boredom, and depression here."

Without further waste of time, Scarlett made arrangements for her things to be picked up at the railway station and delivered to the harbor in advance in order to be collected by the shipment service and later put on the ship. Accompanied by her maid, Scarlett hired the carriage. A relatively long drive, lined with moss-hung oaks and through the muddy occupied streets, led to the tall, white-columned mansion. Scarlett stepped off the carriage into the street. Edging closer to the house, she stopped when she reached the corner of the house, her eyes giving the neighborhood a quick, uneasy assessment. There was nobody in the garden and outside the house. Scarlett ordered her maid Fiona to keep silent and tell nobody their final destination.

As Scarlett knocked at the front door of her Aunts' mansion, her heart started hampering. The darkie opened the door, and they went inside the house, into the parlor. The parlor evidenced relative wealth and good taste, being decorated in the creamy colors and in the strict Victorian style. The entire house evidenced good taste and classic moderation of the proper Charleston: no vivid decorations and no excessive ornamentation; heavy, elegant oak furniture with rich upholstery; elegance and grace everywhere.

Scarlett gave a sigh of relief when she discovered Eulalie and Pauline at home and without any company. Scarlett felt her heart leap in her breast when she saw her aunts facing her direction as they greeted her and proposed to take a sit in front of them on the armchair, as they sat at a round, mahogany table on the sofa. She was uncertain whether she was disappointed or cheered to see two women seated comfortably close to her. Last time she met them on Pierre's funeral in Savannah, and now she came to Charleston without any notice in advance.

"Good afternoon, Scarlett," Eulalie said, her eyes scanning Scarlett's appearance. "We didn't expect you to come today."

"Hello Scarlett," Pauline began, her voice becoming anxious. "Has something happened?"

"Good afternoon," Scarlett greeted and smiled. "I am fine, Aunt Eulalie and Aunt Pauline. Thank you."

"What are you doing in Charleston?" Pauline inquired. "Do you want some tea? The tea pot is warm."

"One cup of tea would be great!" Scarlett responded. "Actually, I am leaving the city in four and a half hours. I decided to call on you while I am here."

"Leaving so soon, darling? How is that possible?" Eulalie asked with a startled expression.

"Where are you going, Scarlett?" Pauline looked at her interrogatively. She poured out a cup of tea and handed it to Scarlett.

"I am leaving the South for some time," Scarlett said. She sighed, knowing that until her aunts were entirely satisfied the questions wouldn't abate.

"Good heavens! Why are you doing this?" Eulalie continued.

"There were many tragic events in the past several months, and I feel I must change the environment and the place urgently," Scarlett explained.

Pauline was more amused than embarrassed. "But, Scarlett, you can go to Tara. Why is it necessary to go somewhere else?" she questioned.

"Darlings, this is because now even at Tara I don't feel secure and calm," Scarlett informed. "Thus I am going away, and I am leaving today. Don't worry, I will be fine."

"Is Mammy coming with you?" Eulalie asked and sipped some tea.

"No, I am going alone, taking only my new maid with me," Scarlett said, sipping tea.

"Scarlett, darling, you must be chaperoned. Take Mammy with you!" Pauline advised.

"No, I won't take her. Mammy is the old woman, and I don't want to risk her health taking her out of the familiar place." Scarlett hoped that her aunts would swallow such a shallow explanation.

"Oh, Scarlett," Pauline lamented. "A lady shouldn't travel alone."

"Aunt Pauline, I am not a small girl who couldn't take care of herself. Besides, I will be not completely alone. My maid accompanies me." Scarlett's green eyes flashed.

"Where are you going?" Eulalie said patiently.

"I am travelling to Boston," Scarlett returned in a confident voice. She lied, but at least it sounded convincing and partly true because the ship will make a short stop in Boston. She didn't intend to reveal her final destination. "Perhaps, from Boston I will go to Europe, but so far I am not sure."

"Scarlett, does your husband know about your trip?" Pauline stared at her with silent reproach.

"Aunt Eulalie and Aunt Pauline, I am very sorry, but our private life with Rhett Butler is not the concern of yours," Scarlett responded in a dangerous tone. At his name, frustrated anger began to simmer in her veins. Her heart sank like a lump of lead to her toes. The tension that radiated between all of them was almost tangible, and Eulalie and Pauline were helpless, staring openmouthed at their niece. Eulalie coughed, and this sound brought Scarlett back to the reality of the situation. Although outraged, Scarlett forced a smile. "I apologize for my slightly impolite answer. I hope you forgive me."

Eulalie and Pauline exchanged terrified glances. They didn't say the word that was ringing in their ears – separation. However, they were afraid that the situation between Scarlett and Rhett was critical. They knew that Rhett Butler returned to Charleston and was drinking heavily, locked up in his study room or bedroom. Eulalie and Pauline were close friends with _Eleanor Elisabeth Butler_, Rhett's mother. Eleanor told them nothing about her son, but they guessed what was going on with Rhett as they witnessed Eleanor's anxiety and concern, which were so evident in her blue eyes.

"Of course, Scarlett," Eulalie said with affronted dignity.

"Scarlett, I hope you are not going to… to leave your husband…" Pauline stumbled with words.

Scarlett sighed. What could she answer? She couldn't tell the truth. She managed a smile. "Aunt Eulalie and Aunt Pauline, Rhett and I need to have a break in our relations in order to ease tension. We must grieve in solitude. It would be better for both of us." Her smile went broader. She could lie if she really wanted to do it, and it was easy to lie to imperceptive Eulalie and Pauline. "As we both feel better, we will talk to each other and decide what to do."

"Scarlett, please think better about going to Boston and Europe," Eulalie offered. "Maybe you will stay with us in Charleston."

Scarlett raised her hand to signal for silence. "No, no, no!" she said crisply. "I know what I am doing." There was finality in her voice.

Pauline sighed. She knew that Scarlett was stubborn, and it was in vain to try to persuade her not to leave the South. "I hope we will keep in touch with you," Pauline murmured dryly, softness coming back on her face. "Please come back as soon as possible," she added.

"I will try to write you regularly. Otherwise, you can always contact me through Mr Massart, the lawyer from Savannah. I have just visited him there," Scarlett said felling relief that the topic with Rhett was finally behind. "Do you remember him?"

"Certainly, darling," Eulalie said softly.

"Mr Massart will continue leading all the deals as it was earlier. He will pay all your personal and extraordinary expenses. Nothing will change for you," Scarlett assured, blinking sleepily.

"Should we send all our bills to him as usual?" Pauline flicked one eyebrow upwards.

"Yes, you should," Scarlett reassured. "Nothing will change, my dear aunts."

"Thank you darling," Eulalie sighed.

The conversation switched to other subjects as they were lounging in leisurely harmony, but two hours later Scarlett apologized and said that she was leaving. After the farewell words and hugs with her aunts, Scarlett called for Fiona who was staying in the kitchen with other servants, and they left the house. Scarlett and her maid Fiona were lucky to quickly catch up the carriage and headed to the Charleston harbor. Finally, Scarlett boarded the ship to London in the afternoon of December 20, 1873, nearly in the Christmas time.

Scarlett was leaving Rhett Butler behind and traveling to unknown future, she mused. If it had not been for the evil, tragic memories which still persisted in her heart, she would have felt gloriously well as she was leaving the land of tragedy behind. What also disturbed Scarlett was the fact that she had to spend her first lonely Christmas without Rhett and Bonnie on the ship to Europe. She perceived that her loneliness was a punishment for her past sin, trying to appease herself that she would soon arrive in London and her distant French relatives.

* * *

_I hope you liked this chapter. _

_Scarlett is leaving Rhett behind. She doesn't know what expects her in the future. But she is stubborn and strong-willed. How she will cope with her problems, you will know in the following chapters._

_I hope you liked my idea – to leave Scarlett on one night in Philippe Robillard's old room. It is a symbolical thing in this story, but you will realize it only later._

_The historical information about Savannah is correct._

_I would be very grateful if you let me know in your reviews what you think about this chapter. Thank you very much in advance!_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**Meeting with a noble French gentleman**

Scarlett's mind continued its travelling to the past, namely to the moment when she boarded the ship in Charleston leaving the South and her sorrow behind and striving for happiness in her new life. She recollected the precious moments of dreaming about happiness and her undying, ever-growing sense of fear, fear for the future. In fact, having an out-of-wedlock born child was haggish shame for her own family if it was discovered by somebody. Scarlett started to think about the options she had to save her reputation and, most importantly, her child's life from the shame and disgrace caused by giving birth in her future unmarried status. At first, Scarlett thought that she would tell her relatives and everybody in London that her husband died some time ago and she was a widow. However, it was quite doubtful option to follow because her lawyer from Savannah Mr Massart knew that she was married to infamous in the whole South Rhett Butler, and hence, most likely, he would learn about her divorce sooner or later. Her mind was flinging from one option to another one, causing her brain to work hard in the process of searching the solution, which she couldn't find so far.

Scarlett also pursued the idea of going somewhere from London where nobody knew her and where she could say whatever she wanted. Her mind was whirling in the vortex of numerous possible decisions, but in her current tired state her brain didn't see things with clarity. In sober fact, her reasoning was shrinking away from the picture of her purely ruined life. Now she was appeased because she would be able to give Rhett's child free rein in everything that would make him or her happy. At least a part of Rhett's intentions would be realized in their child's life, Scarlett mused.

Probably, it was fate that helped Scarlett unexpectedly. The fateful meeting occurred during the dinner in the restaurant on the ship on December 23, 1873. Scarlett was sitting alone, absorbed in her thoughts about Rhett and her escape when she heard unfamiliar voice.

"Good afternoon, Madame. It is a very nice evening, isn't it?" a French gentleman asked. Then he bowed very low to her.

"Good evening, sir. Indeed, the evening is very nice. How are you doing?" Scarlett smiled sincerely and softly at a stranger.

"I am fine. Thank you for asking, Madame."

Scarlett gave to him a dazzling smile. "I am happy to hear it, sir." She remarked his admiring glances at her. Glancing around, she also noticed a few men eyeing her.

"Let me introduce myself. My name is _Mathieu Paul Louis de Harlay de Champvallon, 13th Marquis de Bréval_," Mathieu said.

"It is nice to meet you, _Marquis de Bréval_. My name is Scarlett O'Hara Butler," she said, studying the companion's face solemnly from beneath a heavy fringe of dark lashes.

Stepping close to her side again, a gentleman took hold of her gloved hand and dropped an innocent kiss on the bare flesh of her wrist. "How is your mood today, Mrs Butler?"

"I am perfectly fine, sir. Thank you," Scarlett said. Then her green eyes swept over a gentleman.

_Mathieu Paul Louis de Harlay de Champvallon, 13th Marquis de Bréval,_ was a quite handsome nobleman from France. His looked about forty years old. His hair was thick, straight, and dark blonde, and his small golden mustache was closely clipped. His eyes were hazel, their color similar to the color of the hazelnut shell, which made them similar to light brown to a shade of golden with tinges of green and yellow. Mathieu was a tall, powerfully built man, with wide shoulders and heavy muscles. He had a firm line of his jaw and an alarmingly masculine nose and chin. He had a strong, strong-minded face. Yet, there was something eminent and exquisite, even sublime in his appearance, and he didn't look like a man of great authority who could break any rules and laws if it suited him. He looked gentle and gracious. Probably, it might be explained by his aristocratic blood, Scarlett mused, but she didn't know for sure.

Mathieu's evening attire was elegant and spick-and-span. He was wearing the black evening tailcoat, the white waistcoat, the black trousers, the indigo-blue cravat, the navy-blue shirt, the black gloves, and the black top hat. Scarlett guessed that he had always been wearing only high-end, elegant clothes that perfectly fitted him.

"May I take a seat at this table?"

Scarlett smiled at him. "Naturally, sir. You would do me a great honor if you would join me today."

"Thank you very much, Mrs Butler," Mathieu said as he settled into the chair in front of her.

"Are you French?" Scarlett answered with frank curiosity.

"Yes, I am."

Scarlett raised one eyebrow quizzically. "Pure French?"

"Yes."

"Your English is perfect, without any accent."

Mathieu shrugged as he gave to her a winsome smile. "Thank you for the compliment, Mrs Butler."

Scarlett returned his smile warmly. "You are welcome, sir."

"I suppose that you are the most charming belle in the whole American South," Mathieu bowed and tossed his hat to welcome her.

"Thank you, sir. But I stopped being a belle of three counties a long time ago."

"Thank you, sir. But I stopped being a belle of three counties a long time ago."

Mathieu's hazel eyes were scanning Scarlett's appearance from the feet to her crown. She was happy that she wasn't wearing black. She knew that her gorgeous light green, almost spring green, velvet dress with a medium-sized train, a low square neckline, and silky sleeves trimmed with tiny white ruffles, fit her perfectly well and was eye-catching. Her pregnancy wasn't advanced, and she still could wear the dresses of her favorite style. A massive sapphire necklace supplemented her dress.

His hazel eyes were sparkling, his tone was so soft. "Nevertheless, you are stunningly beautiful."

Scarlett blushed. "Thank you, sir."

"It is not that I just wanted to compliment you. I just stated the fact."

The green eyes danced with flame. "Thank you, sir," she repeated.

"Do I understand correct that you are Mrs Butler?

Scarlett gave to him a head-spinning smile. "Yes, I am. I am a married woman."

"Give to your husband my congratulations with having such a beautiful wife," Mathieu said in a sing song voice. He was visibly pleased with their meeting. "Are you travelling alone?"

"Yes, I am travelling alone. I am planning to visit my relatives in London," Scarlett answered calmly, attentively looking at her companion. She was a little bit stunned with the unexpected compliment from a stranger. It was a long time ago when she was so openly admired by an unknown man.

Mathieu arched his brow. "Alone?"

"Yes."

"Mrs Butler, it is Christmas time. How can you travel alone?"

"Unfortunately, I had to travel alone because my trip was very urgent." Scarlett's voice had a hint of melancholy. "And why are you travelling alone before Christmas?"

"I regret to say I also had to travel to the States from France very urgently because one of my old close friends died several weeks ago in Savannah. I couldn't miss his funeral," he explained.

"Oh God! I am so sorry for your loss, Monsieur," Scarlett answered sadly.

Mathieu grinned at her. "It seems to me I have a chance not to be alone on Christmas Eve."

"Maybe yes maybe no," she said enigmatically.

Mathieu smiled broadly. "We will see."

"How should I address to you? Monsieur de Bréval?" She questioned anxiously, scrutinizing his face.

From the lessons with her mother Ellen and with Mammy in her childhood, Scarlett still remembered that in the high society of France noblemen were addressed as "Monsieur" and noblewomen as "Madame" or "Mademoiselle", while in England the generally used forms of addressing were "my Lord" for noblemen and "my Lady" for noblewomen. Scarlett gave a sigh of relief as now she needed to use know these simple formal things of etiquette. Now she will be able to use at least something from her past lessons for proper ladies, which she had always considered to be useless and which she had even hated. She was happy that her memory recollected these standard rules so quickly because now she needed them.

"Let's avoid these formalities. You can call me simply by my first name - Mathieu," he replied.

"Thank you, Mathieu. In this case, please call me Scarlett."

The first impression was that _Marquis Mathieu de Bréval_ was always very courteous, but aloof and remote. Scarlett thought that it was difficult to tell what he was thinking about. Mathieu looked at her with yearning and sadness, and there was a sort of fire in his hazel eyes as his hazel eyes flashed in something uncertain. The assessing hazel eyes beneath the heavy golden brows were always watching Scarlett. Scarlett found Mathieu to be mysterious. He was very polite and caring toward Scarlett, but his eyes were always looking at and through her. He was studying and watching her. Scarlett compared his glance with Rhett's old cat-at-a-mouse-hole gaze, patient and alert. They were talking about Europe: Mathieu entertained Scarlett with the stories about France, England, and Europe in general. He gave her a great deal of information about London and Paris. He also chatted about books, music and poetry, but he quickly stopped it. Scarlett thought that he did this because he thought that she wasn't interested, and she emboldened him to continue. She asked him a multitude of questions about aristocratic society in Europe and how the representatives of the upper-class society spent their time.

One pleasant conversation resulted in other meetings on the deck of the ship while they were in the sea. In fact, Scarlett needed somebody to talk to in order not to be gone mad because of everything that had recently happened with her. Moreover, she liked communicating with this handsome well-educated man who sympathized to Scarlett and appeared to seek her company constantly. Scarlett was very happy that she didn't have to spend the Christmas completely alone. Mathieu was apparently glad to celebrate Christmas with her and then the New Year on the dinner with a beautiful green-eyed American lady whom he liked from the first sight.

Over two weeks on the ship, Scarlett grew to some kind of feeling necessity talk to _Marquis Mathieu de Bréval_ and was able to consider their relationship friendship. She became even more interested in Mathieu once they discovered, to their mutual pleasure, that he knew the Robillard family in France and Pierre Robillard, Scarlett's grandfather. Scarlett learnt that her new friend Mathieu was a wealthy widower from France who was born in Paris and whose family had strong noble roots in France.

Mathieu turned out to be a connoisseur of art and antiquities. When he was very young, he spent much time in travelling in Italy, Greece, England, Spain, and Germany, where he devoted much attention to the study and collection of antiquities. As he came back to France, he became an active member of _the Académie royale de peinture_ _et de sculpture_ _(the Royal Academy of Painting and Sculpture)_ and of _the Académie des Inscriptions_ (_the Academy of Inscriptions)_. He was also the member of _the Société des Antiquaires de France (the Society of Antiquaries of France)_. Mathieu's cultural interests were not confined to the arts of Classical antiquity, but also extended to the Gothic art, the Renaissance art, and especially to the art of the Baroque and the Rococo periods in France.

In the times of _the Second French Empire, __Marquis Mathieu de Bréval_ was in the entourage of _Napoleon III_. Mathieu wasn't a usual courtier at the Imperial Court – he was one of the best _Napoleon III's_ counselors at the Ministry of Arts. Mathieu was a connoisseur of art, including painting, sculpture, music, and literature. Being a prominent member of the Royal Society of Arts and having great knowledge in art, Mathieu was one of the originators of _Napoleon III style_, which was commonly used as the 19th century style of Renaissance Revival in France. That style flourished during _the Second French Empire_, with the patronage of _Napoleon III_ and his private counselors like Mathieu. Mathieu told Scarlett that the term "_Napoleon III style_" had been used because _Empress Eugénie_ asked architect _Charles Garnier_ whether _the Palais Garnier_, under construction in 1862, would be built in the Greek style or the Roman style. Scarlett was laughing at the architect's response as the man replied that that style could have been called only _Napoleon III style_. In fact, _Napoleon III style_ was the product of the Baroque style, the Rococo style, and the Renaissance style, dissolved by Napoleonic elements. It was the way to promulgate _Napoleon III's_ glory and triumph.

_Marquis Mathieu de Bréval_ worked not only in Paris and in France. He was often traveling with French diplomats to the French colonies in Southeast Asia as his task was to develop, to make famous, and to glorify _Napoleon III style_ in various French colonies. Of course, Mathieu's home collection of pieces of art was great as he had always bought many new objects on various arts events, public auctions, or from the private collections owned by other connoisseurs of art.

The décor in _Napoleon III style_ was the strong point of that period. It was always abundant, always with plenty of furnishings and fabrics, always with colorful rich upholstery. A strong preference for grand interior architecture elements was a general trend for the designers. The focal points of rooms were fireplace mantels, mirrors, candelabras, sconces and chandeliers. Numerous sculptures, like Atlantes and Caryatids, were often used for decorations, being synonymous of luxurious life. _Napoleon III style_ could have been summed up in following formula: abundance – abundance of inspiration, profusion of materials and a wealth of décor, being a generous mix of the 17th and the 18th century styles. The period was famous for its tortoiseshell and metal parquetry furniture in _the André-Charles Boulle manner_, _Louis XV style_ and_ Louis XVI_ _style_, as well as the Renaissance style, especially _King Henri II_ dining room sets.

Most importantly, _Napoleon III_ style was always associated with the renovation of Paris under _Baron Haussmann_, which happened between 1852 and 1870, a year when _the Second French Empire_ was defeated. As a result, numerous rings of boulevards and a network of wide avenues appeared in Paris. The buildings of the renovation showed a singularity of purpose and design and their new style was a result of rational urban planning that was unusual for the period. The style was characterized by high façades, mansard roofs, and sometimes medium pavilions. There were many buildings built in that style, which were richly decorated and had with clearly defined outlines. All buildings in _Napoleon III style_ were somewhat distinct from other buildings. Numerous railway stations, _the Tribunal de commerce_, and _the Palais Garnier_ were constructed in that style.

However, Mathieu's own house, which was located in the aristocratic district _Le Marais_, wasn't built in _Napoleon III style_ because Mathieu loved the Baroque style and decorated everything in accordance with his own tastes and preferences. Mathieu told Scarlett that he had a large art gallery at home and

Scarlett thought that Mathieu was the gentleman in the pure aristocratic style, which basically meant living embodiment of the civilized man, the elegant man, the brave man, and the wealthy man. Mathieu looked as an aristocrat through and through. He was very broad-minded and intelligent, kind and sympathetic, honorable and brave, gentle and high-minded. He was very rich and had investments in France and in British Asia, which demonstrated his progressive and businesslike mind. Mathieu was the epitome of exclusive elegance and exquisite manners. It was as though Scarlett had met a man who was so close to be an ideal Southern gentleman, but at the same time a gentleman who was too progressive in his mind as compared to a usual gentleman of the Old South. It should have been a result of Mathieu's French roots and upbringing, Scarlett mused. Basically, Mathieu looked as an ideal aristocrat, the physical and the spiritual representation of what man should be and can rarely achieves.

Scarlett found it amazing that Mathieu participated in the renovation of Paris. "Mathieu, I could never imagine that you participated in the renovation of Paris."

Mathieu shrugged. "Scarlett, I was _Napoleon III's_ adviser in the matters of art and the renovation of Paris. As I said, I served at the Ministry of Arts. Of course, I participated in the renovation of Paris." He smiled gently at her.

"Mathieu, where did you study, if I may ask?"

"Of course, you can ask me, Scarlett." Mathieu smiled broadly. His voice was as silky as Cheshire cat's fur. "I spent many years in England at Eton College. Later I came back to Paris and soon was enrolled in studying law at _the Institut d'Études Politiques de Paris (the Paris Institute of Political Studies)_. However, I quickly realized that I was more interested in art and antiquities. So I finished my studies, but I never continued my career in law."

"Oh, Mathieu! I am ashamed, but I understand nothing in art!" Scarlett exclaimed. She blushed as she felt embarrassed.

Mathieu shrugged. "Scarlett, it doesn't matter. Ask me what you need and I will answer to your questions."

"I am ashamed to admit it…" She paused.

"What, Scarlett?"

Scarlett was biting her bottom lip. Then she finally spoke. "I understand nothing in French noble hierarchy. I just know that you are Marquis and that's it."

"I will explain to you the nobility theory if you want," Mathieu said. Then he smiled at her. She was so natural that he smiled each time when she lost her temper either in anger or in an uncontrollable laugh.

Scarlett laughed merrily. "I would love to listen, Monsieur de Bréval."

"Nobility can be inherited or acquired. If inherited, you receive by the right of birth. It can also be acquired by "holding offices" (fiscal, juridical, municipal ect.) and becoming noble either immediately or in a number of years. You can also acquire nobility by "letters patent" that is by a special royal grant."

Mathieu also told her that in France the official titles included: Duke, a possessor of a duchy, recognized as duke by the King or the Emperor; Prince, a possessor of a lordship styled a principality; Marquis, a possessor of a marquisate; Count, a possessor of a county; Viscount, a possessor of a viscountcy; Baron, a possessor of a barony; Chevalier, an otherwise untitled nobleman who belonged to an order of chivalry; Sire ("lord"), by the 17th century a possessor of a lordship long associated with a distinguished family." The general form of addressing to them was "Monsieur" for males, which etymologically means "my Lord"; "Madame" for married, divorced, widowed or elderly females; and "Mademoiselle" for an unmarried female, as Scarlett already knew from her mother.

Mathieu told Scarlett that _the First French Revolution_ _of 1789_ abolished peerages along with all other titles of nobility. Later _Napoleon I_ recreated titles starting - the whole hierarchy of dukes, counts and barons in 1804-1808, but he didn't restore feudalism. The Bourbon Restoration extended the system to the peerage it created in 1817, and all other titles in 1824. Later the titles were confirmed by the successive monarchical regimes until 1870. Many new titles were created. French titles continued to exist after _the Second French Empire_ had fallen in 1871. _The Third Republic of France_ didn't abolish titles, and, based on existing laws and earlier jurisprudence, the courts had to build up a legal system to deal with titles and their transmission. However, the legal concept of the nobility and the associated with them aristocratic privileges no longer existed.

Mathieu explained that in England the nobility system was different from the French one. He said that the British nobility consisted of two entities - the peerage and the landed gentry. Members of the peerage are titled (Duke, Marquis, Earl, Viscount, and Baron) and are frequently referred to as peers or lords. The rest of the nobility is referred to as the landed gentry. The eldest son of a Duke, Marquis or Earl frequently also has a title, which is one of his father's subsidiary titles, and so that the eldest son of Duke can hold a title of Marquis.

Mathieu was so generous for explanations that he elucidated on the general rules of addressing to nobles in England. Duke, outranking all other noblemen, must be addressed much more respectfully as "your Grace", while all other noblemen are referred to merely as "your lordship" and noble women as "your ladyship." In English society all nobles are also possible to be addressed as "Lord X." The appellation of "lord" is applied as a generic term to persons who hold a title of the peerage – substantive titles – or to persons entitled to courtesy titles, being a form of address used for children, former wives and other close relatives of a peer and being used "by courtesy" in the sense that the relatives don't themselves hold substantive titles. "X" refers to a Manor name, and the substantive title of "Lord of the Manor" came into use following the Norman Conquest of 1066. So that Lord X is considered to be a Lord of the Manor of lands he has inherited. In the meantime, in England at times some French nobles were addressed in the local manner.

In both France and England, hereditary nobility usually came from the father to the eldest son. If a father didn't have a son, then the title went to the younger brother. If there was no younger brother, than the father's cousins were considered and so on. Women couldn't inherit nobility: they could get the title only by getting married to the holder of the title. A nobleman marrying a commoner didn't lose his nobility, while a noblewoman whose husband is a commoner lost her nobility.

In the Middles Ages all the hereditary titles were usually attached to land. Traditionally, a hereditary title had to be formally attached to a land endowment called a "majorat". In England in the 19th century the majority of the titles were still land-based, while in France the situation was developing in different way. In France _Napoleon I_ didn't try to attach titles to lands by demanding as rule that the title had to be attached to "majorat", whose contents had to be provided by the title-holder. "The majorat" was abolished in 1835, and all the titles were completely separated from any landed connection. Never could something like that happen in conservative Britain.

"Scarlett, earlier in France there were several classes of nobility. Traditional or old nobility is so-called "nobility of the sword" - _Noblesse d'épée. _Nobility for at least four generations is _Noblesse d'extraction_. There are also other classes. Acquired nobility through holding offices is _Noblesse de robe_."

"What about the Harlay-Champvallon noble house?" Scarlett asked.

"It is more correct to talk about the Harlay house established in the Middle Ages. The Harlay family's nobility is _knightly nobility _and old nobility _-_ _Noblesse d'épée_, as well as _Noblesse d'extraction _because our nobility is dated back to the end of the 14th century. Later, in the 17th century, the noble house transformed to the Harlay-Champvallon branch, which secured the title of _Marquis de Bréval_, and the Harlay branch, which held the titles of _Count de Cesy_ and _Baron_ _de Maule. _By the way,our family included many famous parliamentarians and archbishops."

"Your ancestors were knights, weren't they?" Scarlett asked and folded her hands on her chest.

"Some of them were knights and participated in _the Crusades_. My family's nobility originated in _Picardy_, which is a province in the North of France," Mathieu said.

"My God, Mathieu!" Scarlett exclaimed. "You have such deep ancient aristocratic roots!"

"And so do you. I mean the Robillards."

"I want to be introduced to the ton of English and to the French upper-class society," Scarlett said passionately. "I will meet my French relatives."

"Sure, I can try to help you. I know many Robillards," the Marquis declared in a rich baritone voice.

"This would be great."

"Which Robillards do you mean, Scarlett?"

"What do you mean?" She raised her eyebrows.

"The Robillard noble house has three branches: _Bréveaux, Beaurepaire_, and _Magnanville_. There was also another one, but it turned extinct a long time ago."

"Oh! Scarlett's lips parted in bewilderment, her face flushing.

"Which branch do you need?"

"But…" she paused, keeping her face scrupulously straight. "I don't know. How can we distinguish them?"

"Do you mean any differences in full names and titles?" Mathieu asked.

"Yes." She nodded absent-mindedly.

"In France the Robillards include: _de Robillard de Bréveaux_; _de Robillard de Beaurepaire_; and _de Robillard de Magnanville_. The Bréveauxs are Counts, the Beaurepaires – mainly Chevaliers, and the Magnanvilles – Barons."

"Well, I remember his full name," Scarlett said. "In my grandfather's legal documents he was names as _Pierre Jacques Alexandre de Robillard de Bréveaux_."

"So that we know how to trace your relatives," Mathieu smiled gently. "The Robillard-Bréveaux branch is the largest. Luckily, I personally know the current _13th Count de Bréveaux_ and some others_._ The general rule is that the eldest man in the family holds the title."

"This is very good news!" Scarlett exclaimed. "Who are the Robillard family?"

"The Robillard noble house is a well-known, ancient one in Europe. The Robillards in general and the Robillard-Bréveauxs are entitled to old nobility _-_ _Noblesse d'épée_," Mathieu explained to a bewildered Scarlett. "However, I am not sure that it is knightly nobility because among the Robillards there were many men holding the offices, so that it could be _nobility de robe_."

"It is so interesting." Scarlett smiled, her cheeks flushing. She stared at him in bewilderment. It was then, with the bright light from the chandelier above the table illuminating them that she realized that his face was of unhealthy color. However, she was so interested in what they were discussing that this fact slipped from her mind.

"It is not complicated. It is all just a matter of time," he commented with a jeering smile.

"But do I need to know all these facts now when in _the Third Republic of France_ legal nobility no longer exists?" Scarlett inquired and admitted: "The society has become more democratic."

"It is truth. However, you must know everything if you intend to accepted everywhere in France and, especially, in England. The ton of England is more conservative than French high society," the Marquis commented.

"In the United States we don't have titles. Nobody even thinks of them."

"Well," he shot back. "I cannot say whether it is good or bad. It depends on what you want."

Scarlett was quite open with Mathieu because she needed somebody to trust to at least in everyday life. Being extremely excited with his generations-related nobility and his connections with the Robillard-Bréveaux house in France, Scarlett was expecting each meeting impatiently. Scarlett and Mathew had breakfasts, lunches, and dinners together each day and were enjoying the company of each other a lot. Mathieu was watching Scarlett carefully, and at times under his scrutinizing gaze she felt like under Rhett's one in the past when he was watching her like a cat usually watches a mouse at the early beginning of their marriage.

Mathieu's wife _Antoinette Elisabeth Françoise de Morlhon d'Asprières, Marquise de Bréval_, was an epitome of French aristocracy, as Mathieu said. She was an embodiment of grace, aristocratic manners, profound wisdom, loyalty, gentlehood, womanliness, and breathtaking, warm beauty. Mathieu said that they had been madly in love with each other. A deep, all-enveloping, sincere feeling of love and devotion existed between them. They had been dreaming about a long, happy life together and bout a large family. Being the only child in his family, Mathieu had always wanted to have many children. Unfortunately, all their attempts to have a large family finished without any success: Antoinette produced three stillborn babies and only once healthy child, Mathieu's son Charles - _Charles Louis Nicolas de Harlay de Champvallon, the heir apparent to 13th Marquis de Bréval and 15th Baron de Montglat. _Antoinette also had several miscarriages.

Despite those tragic events, Antoinette desperately wanted to have a daughter or another son, and she was going to try again. Mathieu wasn't sure that it had been the best idea, but he agreed to try. However, several miscarriages and three births of stillborn children smashed her health, and year by year she was becoming weaker and weaker. The doctors also didn't advise the spouses to try again to conceive a baby, but Antoinette insisted. She got pregnant by Mathieu against Mathieu's will: without notifying Mathieu, she simply stopped taking special herbs, which they had been using to prevent her pregnancy. Finally, in her last attempt to have a healthy baby God took her life: Antoinette died in childbirth because of profound loss of blood nine years ago. A small, prematurely born child, a boy, also died, despite all the efforts of the doctors to save him. After Antoinette's death, Mathieu became a widower with his only child - his son Charles. In 1873, Charles was twelve years old. Mathieu loved his son dearly and told Scarlett a lot about the young boy.

The Harlay-Champvallon family wasn't large: Mathieu didn't have any brothers and sisters, being the only child in his family. Mathieu told Scarlett that he had only three first cousins Frédéric, Barthélémy and young Anaïs. They were referred to as _Frédéric Philippe Auguste de Harlay, 16th Count de Cesy; Barthélémy Christophe François de Harlay,_ _17th Baron de Maule_; and _Anaïs Laure Victurnienne de Harlay_, _Baroness de La Chardonnière. _Frédéric and Barthélémy were Mathieu's closest and most beloved relatives. Moreover, Mathieu considered Frédéric to be his very close friend. Mathieu didn't like Anaïs because she had always been a pattern of a scandal: she was a courtesan born in a respectable family. There was nothing respectable in her in Mathieu's opinion.

Frédéric was the oldest in the Harlay family and recently turned forty nine. His brother Barthélémy turned forty six years old. Mathieu was forty four years old. Being a late child for her parents, Anaïs was much younger than her brothers and her cousin Mathieu: in May 1873, she turned thirty one years old.

Frédéric had two sons and a daughter: _Georges Eugene Barthélémy de Harlay, 19th Viscount de Saint-Quentin; Antoine Barthélémy Gabriel de Harlay_; and _Therese Jeanne Marie de Harlay._ Barthélémy had a son _Antoine Félicien François de Harlay _and two daughters - _Marie Agathe Therese de Harlay,_ _Viscountess d'Aunay, _as well as unmarried _Aurélie Felicite Marie_ _de Harlay_. In wedlock Anaïs had two sons _François Marie Victurnien_ and _Adrien Gabriel Victurnien_; and one daughter _Victurnienne Delphine Nathalie_. She also had several children with her lovers.

Scarlett told Mathieu the story of her life: her marriage to Charles Hamilton, which was initiated by her in the burst of jealousy of Ashley Wilkes to Melanie Hamilton; her matrimony with Frank Kennedy, which was organized in order to get money to pay taxes on Tara; and her third marriage with Rhett Butler who wanted legal divorce and no longer loved and needed her. She showed Mathieu the farewell letter from Rhett, which was cruel and horrible letter, and Mathieu was shocked by Rhett's behavior. She even disclosed that her last marriage failed because she had imagined loving her childhood friend Ashley Wilkes who had recently lost his wife Melanie.

"Currently, my husband Rhett is likely to attempt to get legal divorce," Scarlett said. She signed heavily and looked away from Mathieu's face in order to escape his glance. She raised her chin. She knew he will try to divorce her. He will. He will.

"What? Divorce in the conservative South?" Mathieu asked slowly in his evident bewilderment. "You must be joking."

At Mathieu's quizzical lift of an eyebrow, Scarlett muttered: "No, I am not."

"Impossible!" he said in disbelief and fell silent for several long moments.

A gleam of laughter in her green eyes, Scarlett said mockingly: "Then by all means, I must talk with another creature of yours to make you believe me."

"I believe you," Mathieu noticed. He absorbed her unpleasant news without a flicker of an eyelash. "But it saddens me to hear it. No doubt you are distressed and lonely. I am sorry, but Rhett Butler is such a brute of a man."

"Rhett assures that he no longer loves me and that he doesn't need me. There was time when he had been ready to do everything to marry me." Scarlett smiled as a wave of bittersweet nostalgia overcame her. "I am sure Rhett will be able to get the divorce if he pursues it." Her forehead furrowed. She let out a chilling laugh and drew a deep breath. There was no leaping light in her emerald eyes. "And it is truth that he wants to divorce me. I could never imagine something like that to happen in my life."

"I am shocked, Scarlett," Mathieu said genuinely with obvious concern and regret in his tone. He didn't understand how a man could treat his own wife so indifferently and so cruelly.

Scarlett shook her head mutely. She felt hot burning anger simmering in her blood and gradually dissolving in her veins. "Ashley and my other husbands respected me more than Rhett did."

Mathieu kept his hazel eyes steadily on the slender figure seated near him. She bent her head down, her hands stilled. "Rhett Butler wrote his farewell letter in that cruel tone with a certain intention – to create distance from you." He paused.

She looked up at him and shuddered. "I know Rhett wanted to push you away."

Mathieu shook his head in agreement. "Yes."

Scarlett shivered and sighed. "I don't care why he did this. At all accounts, Rhett shouldn't be so awfully atrocious! He is my husband in front of God's face and the law," she exclaimed in indignation as hot anger seized her heart at the thought of her humiliation and of his arrogant, mocking face.

"In any case, either unintentionally or deliberately, voluntary or involuntary, your husband mustn't behave in the way he treated you," Mathieu rumbled with aggravation and displeasure in a hoarse voice.

"Rhett Butler is not and has never been a true gentleman," Scarlett said and clenched her jaw in irritation, her eyes shimmering in indignation and rage.

"Good point."

"He is a blackguard and a black sheep in Charleston. Nothing will change him. He could have changed only for our daughter Bonnie, but he reestablished his reputation at the expense of my own," she said.

"It doesn't matter, Scarlett. He is a man in the first place," the Marquis fended her assertion. "And a man must respect a woman, especially his wife."

"We are from the same clothes, Mathieu. I have always been against society rules, and Rhett just helped me become myself." Scarlett bit her lip and her jaw hardened as her face went blank.

"Scarlett, I am telling you one more time that he is a man! I am not telling whether you are alike or not because in any case what your husband has done is disgusting." A frown came on Mathieu's forehead, and he twisted his hands on his lap. He was truly irritated with Rhett's behavior.

Scarlett told Mathieu about her fall from the stairs and about the loss of her unborn child and recalled Rhett's words that pushed her to try to slap him in her spontaneous outburst of feelings as a response to his cruel words. She also briefly mentioned Bonnie's death several months ago, making accent that Rhett's heart was buried with his princess's death, in accordance with her husband's own words.

"Mathieu, I am so sorry for your loss of your newborn child and your wife Antoinette. Please accept my condolences to you and your small son. It is a tragedy. Likewise, I lost two husbands and two children," Scarlett said sorrowfully and frankly, turning sympathetic green eyes upon him.

"Thank you, Scarlett. I also express you my deepest condolences for your loss. It is very difficult to lose not one child, but two children. I cannot imagine how painful it is," Mathieu said understandably, looking at her sorrowfully with his hazel eyes.

"Yes, it is very painful, especially when you are abandoned in your sorrow and pain by your living, healthy husband who wants to divorce you," Scarlett complained, clapping her hands.

"Rhett is not himself now. Maybe, he will never do it. Wait and see, Scarlett. It is your only option. You cannot pursue him and beg for forgiveness," he elaborated and leaned back in the chair he occupied.

"No, Mathieu, I won't pursue him."

"You are doing a right thing."

"When Rhett Butler wants something, he gets it. It is just a matter of time. But it is my entire fault. I ruined our marriage by my illusive love for Ashley who appeared to be a childhood dream," Scarlett exclaimed bitterly, and her face darkened.

Maria stilled instantly at her words, and her eyes held his gaze. Finally he said: "The failure of your marriage is your mutual fault. If your husband doesn't understand this, he is a foolish despite all his broad intelligence and business acumen."

"I know," she returned firmly.

"Scarlett, can I give you one useful advice?" the Marquis asked and looked at her attentively.

"Yes, of course. I am at your disposal," Scarlett spelled out anxiously.

"You are very alive and natural with your vivacious Irish spirit. Your face is like a book to read from it. I am astonished that your husband doesn't believe that you love him and not that other man," Mathieu said genuinely, and a faint smile stirred his lips.

"Thank you. My husband has always loved me for my vivacious spirit. However, I am no longer so vivacious," Scarlett rolled her eyes wildly, peeping first at Mathieu's face and then down at her twisted hands. "What is your advice, Mathieu?"

"You may find my advice a little bit strange. Scarlett, you are not a sweet-tempered young thing. Also, you are easily readable. I think you should learn the art of ambivalence."

"Sorry?"

"I mean hiding your emotions from time to time. Call it a mask of polite indifference and courtesy," Mathieu smiled faintly, well aware what she was thinking now.

"I don't need it," she countered, wringing her hands in an agony of helpless incomprehension. She swallowed and replied in a barely audible whisper in a categorical tone.

"You don't need to practice it with everybody. However, you should know how to hide your emotions and also control your short temper. If you plan to be introduced to beau monde in Europe and have access there, you must have the skills in impersonal courtesy and indifference."

"You are right in something. I need to think about it, Mathieu." Scarlett half closed her emerald eyes, and her body appreciably relaxed. Mathieu was watching each and every movement and tiny change in Scarlett's behavior.

"Remember your husband's behavior."

"I do remember it. He was like a stranger."

Mathieu inhaled. "He was a polite, indifferent stranger."

"Yes." Her voice trembled, but she raised her chin high.

"At times polite indifference helps, but you must know how to play and with whom to play in this game. You don't need to over-react or under-react and overplay or underplay. You must learn how to maintain the balance of emotions." Mathieu stared at Scarlett with warmth and adoration.

"I agree with you. But it is so difficult to control the temper."

"I can imagine, Scarlett."

"At the same time, if I learnt to do it earlier, I would have fewer clashes with people and my reputation wouldn't be damned." Scarlett signed heavily, but no relief came.

"Scarlett, you must meet one very beautiful and interesting. I presume she is your third cousin."

"What is her name?"

"She is _Annabelle Françoise Julienne de Robillard de Bréveaux, Countess de Morville_. She is also your third cousin. You will become friends." He paused and cast his gaze down at his long aristocratic fingers with several rings. "I know it," he assured as he looked at Scarlett.

"I hope so," Scarlett answered.

"I know that I am right. Annabelle and you are too much alike. I see this," he commented.

Scarlett didn't know whether it was truth. She shrugged. "I would love to see Madame Annabelle."

Scarlett longed for Rhett, his mocking smile, his large tender arms that comforted her in her nightmares. However, somewhere deep in her heart, she suspected that she may never see Rhett again. Mentally, Scarlett was ready to give birth to this child out-of-wedlock in case of the divorce, although she realized that in this case she had to hide this fact after the departure from the South. She persuaded her tired mind that she hadn't given a damn about the consequences of her decision to conceal her pregnancy and escape. She wanted to stay away from him and aimed to distance herself as much as it was possible and as quickly as possible.

Scarlett didn't disclose her sweet secret to Mathieu because she didn't felt deeply ashamed. However, Mathieu started to notice Scarlett's constant feeling unwell, which she ascribed it to sea sickness. He said and asked nothing. He continued to watch her and was unintentionally putting himself more and more under her spell. The more she talked to Mathieu, the more she noticed that Mathieu was looking at her alertly and attentively. She wondered why Mathieu's gaze reminded her so much about Rhett's watching manner as he observed her behavior in hidden hope for reciprocal love. She mused whether _Marquis Mathieu de Bréval_ also wanted something from her. If it was so, what did he want?

"This man seems to like me not only as a friend. I see how he looks at me like a man looks at a lady," Scarlett thought. She smiled to herself, remembering her past experience and adventures of a young, the most beautiful and the most popular, Southern belle of the County.

* * *

_A new hero is introduced in the story. Do you have any further thoughts what this French nobleman was like? His role in this story is very specific, and you will see it in the next chapter._

_I hope that you liked the details about Mathieu's biography._

_Anyway, I will greatly appreciate your comments on this chapter. Thank you very much._


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**A heaven-sent marriage proposal and arrival in London**

Scarlett went back to her enormous, whimsically ornate bed in _Louis XV style_. Feeling reeling dizziness and general laxity, she needed to lie down for a while. She climbed into the bed and covered her trembling body with a warm blanket. Stretching her arms high over her head, Scarlett continued to reminisce the past. This time her thoughts traveled to the fateful conversation on the deck of the ship after the dinner, which determined all her new life in Europe, her relocation to Paris, and therefore was to some extent fateful for both her and her unborn child.

"Scarlett, may I ask you a bold question? What are you going to do next?" Mathieu asked accurately, lighting his cigar and staring at Scarlett carefully, as though he tried to look deeper in her very heart and soul.

"I don't understand what you mean, Mathieu. Pray clarify," Scarlett said in bewilderment. She saw his watching her with Rhett's intensive cat-at-a-mouse-hole gaze. What did he want from her?

"Scarlett, I assure you that I don't have bad intentions behind my question. I admire your life story and your character."

"Thank you, Mathieu," came from her red lips and briskly black lashes swept demurely over green eyes.

"Trust me, Scarlett, I respect you very much as a lady," Mathieu looked at Scarlett with intensity.

"Mathieu, I am no lady in its true sense, unlike my mother was. I don't have her well-balanced, moderate, unselfish, and patient nature," Scarlett countered Mathieu.

"You are a lady of energy and vivacity, which isn't so traditional for a proper lady, but nevertheless doesn't make you as unladylike as you tend to think. Scarlett, we understand each other a lot and our mutual understanding has some quite sad roots related to the death of our children. I completely sympathize to you in your sorrow and ask you to accept my deepest and most sincere condolences."

"Thank you very much for your good words and your comprehension. I also feel mutual pleasure in our meetings. Honestly, you are the only real friend to me after Melanie's death," Scarlett replied genuinely. Her eyes flew to Mathieu's handsome face. "You have a tacit understanding of me."

"You don't need to thank me, Scarlett. I am just stating the fact, not exaggerating my estimate of you and my appreciation of your life path."

"Thank you," she answered humbly.

"Apologizing in advance, I want to ask for the second time whether you had a single thought what would happen when your child is born in several months."

"What… I… I …" Scarlett was voiceless.

"I do apologize for the straightforward question, but I have to ask it. Please don't feel ashamed and uncomfortable with me. I want to help you," Mathieu simply said and looked at shocked Scarlett who was silent for several minutes and finally dropped her head powerlessly.

Scarlett drew a shaky breath. Mathieu knew. He probably guessed. Denial wasn't going to work. Defense was no longer an option. That left only truth. "You knew?" she glanced at him.

"I guessed."

"And you still were kind to me."

"It was a recent guess." Mathieu shrugged.

Her heart missed a beat. Her lips parted. "Great balls of fire, I don't know what I will do," Scarlett exclaimed.

"I see I made quite the impression with my question."

"Yes." They exchanged glances.

She looked up at him, her eyes narrowed. He simply looked back at her, and waited for her breath to fall into evenness. "Well," he said after an awkward pause, "have you thought about it?"

"I thought I would tell people that my husband had died some time ago."

"An unhappy widow in mourning?"

"Naturally." Scarlett wasn't sure that it was a right option, and that uncertainty tinged her words with bitterness.

"Pray continue."

"It seems to be the only possible option that comes to my mind," she said slowly, as though she was just realizing the truth of it. She tamped down a melancholic smile. "Mathieu, please don't think badly of me. I still don't know whether I was right in not telling Rhett about my condition."

"I don't think badly about you, and you have nothing to be ashamed of. But what I don't understand is how your so-called loving husband could do this to you. His farewell letter was written in the completely ungentlemanly tone, very cruel and caddish," Mathieu said in disgust.

"I know, Mathieu. This letter is the worst piece of sheet I have ever held in my hands. I still ask myself a question in my mind whether Rhett indeed hates me so much and thinks that I am a whore like many other whores whom he has been bedding most likely since fifteen-sixteen years old." She closed her eyes and crossed her arms on her chest.

"I do apologize, but only bastards could act in the manner he acted and treated you. Rhett Butler either has gone mad as a result of your daughter's death, or had really never loved you and finally decided to quit the marriage upon the realization of his undying love for you, Scarlett, as being only infatuation, like the one you had to Ashley. Did he know about your love for Ashley when you married?"

"Yes, he knew about it a long time ago, from the moment he eavesdropped unintentionally our conversation with Ashley on the barbeque in the library of the mansion in Ashley's family former plantation, the Twelve Oaks. It was destroyed during the war," Scarlett began and paused at a loss of words as mental fatigue and flurry were gradually crawling to her.

"So he knew about your love. What happened next?" Mathieu asked his new friend.

"During the war when I was in Atlanta and he called on me and Melanie in our house, I told him several times that I still loved Ashley, as I believed at that time. He proposed me to become his mistress and ran away with him from Atlanta. I was mad at him and rejected his proposal," she again paused to recall in her memory the sequence of events in her life.

"Your husband offered you to be his mistress several years ago."

"It happened during the civil war."

"Pardon me," he said. "I have heard men say or do some damnably stupid things to get a woman in bed, but that particular line could win a prize in a tavern contest."

"Why?"

"Jesus Christ," Mathieu sighed heavily. "You were a young naive girl who was raised in the old American South. How could he offer you such a thing and imagine that you will agree with gratitude? It is stupid to think so."

She bit her lip. "He said he hadn't been a marrying man."

"Ha!" Mathieu laughed in that long string of sardonic chuckles. "Rhett Butler is an epitome of an honorable Southern gentleman. And finally he left you pregnant by him."

"Damn him," Scarlett swore, a line of anger in her voice. "God damn him."

Mathieu stared at her and smiled softly. "Don't think about him, Scarlett." Then friendly smile was gone from his face: it froze in place. His face stiffened, his chin lifted. His eyes grew harder, and he scanned her from head to toe. He finally said: "The more we are talking about Rhett Butler, the more his value as a man and a gentleman is striving to zero in my eyes."

Scarlett touched her forehead unintentionally. "I never lied to him."

"You are a poor liar, Scarlett."

Bemused smile covered her face. "He said the same."

"Who is he?" Mathieu leaned forwards, as if speaking a vow.

"Rhett said the same," she replied.

"He knew you too well."

"Yes."

"Of course, he knew you didn't love him when he married you."

"Yes, it is so. I wasn't lying to him even on the day when he proposed. It was the day of Frank's death. He proposed and said that he didn't love me. He claimed to be fond of me. I told him that I loved Ashley, but he proposed to marry me. And I accepted," Scarlett stated. She decided to be completely honest with Mathieu who seemed to be truly on her side.

"Scarlett, you are a very honest lady, and you told him the truth from the very beginning. In fact, he married you in order to win you in the heart duel with Ashley who was becoming only shadow for you over passing time and finally faded away completely."

"Rhett said the same. I mean that he married me to make me love him over time. Initially Rhett knew that I was only sort of fond him as I told him."

"Your husband ingenuously failed to recognize the moment when it happened because he constantly had ran away from your personal conflicts and problems. I would say that this is a very coward-like path to step on for the infamous blockade runner, adventurer, renegade, and risk-taker as Rhett Butler appears to be," Mathieu continued and looked at Scarlett warmly and soulfully.

"I also don't understand how he can exhibit such cowardice in personal affairs and be so smart in business. Rhett knows people so well. Perhaps, we are just too much alike. Sometimes, it is bad to have so strong resemblance," Scarlett sighed heavily. "I have never imagined that Rhett will change so much and become so cruel"

"You are not a coward in personal conflicts and don't run away from him, Scarlett," Mathieu glanced at her benevolently and smiled sympathetically at her, "Maybe, you just don't know your husband. The more I see of the world, the less I am amazed with it. Every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters. This is exactly your husband's case."

"I am doing this now, Mathieu. I am running away from him with a child I am carrying. So, I am a coward or at least I am very cautious person if I may call this so," Scarlett glanced over him in the darkness at nothing.

"Rhett Butler made you run away. He abandoned you for disgrace and shame which such a lady as you cannot admit," Mathieu arrived to the conclusion.

"Perhaps, Mathieu, I don't know. It is so complicated…"

"I didn't tell you earlier, but I had already met Rhett Butler."

"Really?" Scarlett blinked in amusement.

"I had made some investments in several banks in the South. I had to deal with your husband occasionally," he said truthfully.

"It is so incredible! World is so small," Scarlett exclaimed as her eyebrows went up in astonishment. "I couldn't think that a noble gentleman from France can have business with Rhett Butler who never cared about reputation."

"The Butler name used to be a powerful noble name in England and Ireland. Your husband may be related to the Ormond noble house," he said.

She shook her head in uncertainty. "Perhaps. I don't know."

"I had met Rhett Butler twice in Charleston and once in England," he said, catching her look. "Honestly, I had admired his intelligence, rational reasoning, and numerous adventures he was famous for." His lip curled in memory. "That had been before I met you and you told me your story. Nevertheless, in business Rhett Butler is a very smart man," he said with serious overtones, in a sharp voice.

"It is likely that Rhett loves England in the light of his English roots," she admitted.

"I had never thought I will ever meet Rhett Butler's charming wife and become friends with her."

"Mathieu, I couldn't have dreamed of meeting a noble French gentleman on the board of a ship, a man who will become my friend and who knows my husband." Scarlett's face depicted that she felt slightly mollified now.

"Scarlett," Mathieu began and then raised his voice, "you cannot say you are Rhett's widow. Don't do it. Don't risk."

"Why?"

"You may become a fool and a liar in the eyes of the society," Mathieu warned her. "The world is small."

"I have no other options to save myself and my child from disgrace and misery."

"I have an alternative proposal to you. Marry me once you are divorced officially with Rhett. I am sure it will happen soon," Mathieu's words followed Scarlett's warm and exited reply.

"In God's name, please don't joke. Marry you?"

"Marry me," he reiterated.

"Mathieu, you don't know me," Scarlett returned. Startled, her eyes swung around to him. "In the meantime, please accept my gratitude for your honorable proposal."

"Marry me, Scarlett. I will give you and your child my surname and title, and nobody will ever question the fact of the child's real paternity," Mathieu smiled softly. "I am very serious, Scarlett."

"I see." Scarlett felt as the dizziness and nausea assaulted her. She couldn't breathe because his proposal took all the breath from her. It was so unexpected and incredible that she was standing in front of him, looking at and through him, but seeing nothing apart from the threat of another loveless marriage, Rhett's face, and his threats to divorce her.

"I know that you are a wealthy lady with your own and Pierre Robillard's money you inherited. However, your child needs reputation, access to the high society, and, most importantly, acceptance by the proper society," Mathieu continued and paused. He looked at her and took her hands in his.

"Mathieu, it is an unexpected proposal. You don't love me. And you know that I don't love you," she provided the truth. Mathieu didn't blink at her sharp words. With a tense, startled note in his voice, she said: "Neither you nor I need a loveless marriage to live in, even to save my reputation. I would better go to Africa and hide there from Rhett."

"I am fond of you, Scarlett. I admire you."

"Mathieu, I also admire you for your kindness and warm heart."

As she said that and as her green eyes locked with his hazel eyes, with some light green sparkles, but still aloof and impenetrable, Mathieu was thrown into ecstasy, enthusiasm, and admiration. His only desire was to scream and to sing and to kiss her in her rosy lips as his emotional tumult reached the highest peak under the influence of her words about his warm heart and her charms. Mathieu knew that she loved Rhett Butler and that she would never care for him so much as she cared for her husband. As his self-control of emotions was terrific, he only squeezed her hand, gently and slightly. She was the first woman after the death of his dear wife Antoinette who managed to interest him and raise so many emotions in his seemingly dead heart. A broad smile brightened his face, and his hazel eyes displayed only kindness and understanding, not his true emotions at that moment. Scarlett didn't know what was going on in his heart at that moment.

"Listen to me, Scarlett. Butler is a scandalous name in the whole South. My name and title will guarantee you and your child new life. The European upper-class society, especially that one of France and Great Britain, will gladly open its doors for you and your child with my name," Mathieu continued.

"Mathieu, it is not only about society and acceptance," Scarlett protested. But his arguments were right, and she knew it.

"I will be frank with you, Scarlett. You are a very unusual lady, beautiful and headstrong, clever and open-minded, honest and maturing. I like these qualities in you," Mathieu paused and cleared his throat, smiling timidly at her.

"Thank you, Mathieu. I am deeply touched by you high opinion of me, despite everything I have told you about me," Scarlett's face expressed great confusion and amusement.

"Scarlett, you are a great woman and don't ever think otherwise. I also have to add to my speech a very important fact that will clarify your confusion related to my proposal," he trailed off and stared at her with such intensity that she felt uneasy.

"What do you mean?" Her head came up like that of a startled fawn, and looked at him. She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I don't understand."

"I am very sick," Mathieu's voice had gone deep, so deep it seemed to reverberate in her bones. The finality was ringing in his voice. "I will die soon."

Her blood stopped in her veins. When Scarlett spoke, the words seemed to come from very far away. "You will die… You will ... die, Mathieu?" She inhaled. "Are you confident in what you are saying?"

He gestured, and the words tripped out. "I know this for sure and the years of my life are counted. I have a son Charles whom I love more than everything in this world and my own flesh and blood. Charles needs a person to be raised by when I die." Sadness and fatigue were creeping into his voice. He swept his eyes over the expanse of the dark ocean and lit another cigar. He exhaled the smoke and granted another smile to Scarlett who was visibly shocked with his announcement.

"Mathieu, I am so sorry. Well, I mean your sickness…" Scarlett stammered and turned away from Mathieu, looking at the ocean.

"And I want you to help me on this occasion, while I will help you to start a new life without Rhett if you decide so," he said. He looked at her with an expectant hope in his eyes.

She continued to keep silent and watched him in anticipation. Mathieu seemed to be sincere in his proposal, but she didn't know how to react. The silence was becoming more and more tense, interrupted only by sounds of the dash of ocean waves. Scarlett didn't look at Mathieu and focused her eyes on the small glittering spots on the expanse of the dark ocean. It was a gloomy winter late afternoon, and Scarlett's eyes were following with acute fascination the transient glimpses of the moon between driving masses of clouds. She inhaled and exhaled several times, enjoying the sea air. Scarlett felt as though she was a vessel lost in the wide ocean, but it was her own ocean – ocean of confusion, uncertainty and even despair. Finally, she turned around and faced Mathieu who was staring at her with a narrow gaze. Her green eyes, overtaken with surprise and confusion, locked with his hazel eyes, confident and understanding. Scarlett's heart was beating rapidly, her face flushing with embarrassment and excitement.

Mathieu broke the silence and pronounced with a wide, flashing smile that animated his face: "At first glance, I seem to have only practical interest in you. I know that my proposal sounds to you like a business arrangement, but please believe me I really like you as a person and a woman."

"I believe you, Mathieu," Scarlett forced a wry, uncomfortable smile on her flushed face.

"What will you answer to me?" the Marquis finished his confession and touched Scarlett's hands, folded on her chest. He saw that her beautiful face still exhibited a combination of certain shock and bewilderment.

Numerous questions were whirling in Scarlett's mind. Why did _Marquis Mathieu de Bréval_ decide to get acquainted with Scarlett on that evening on the board of the ship? There were numerous charming women in the dining room, but he came right to her table and introduced himself. They didn't have any friends and acquaintances in common, aside from the Robillards from France whom Scarlett has never met before, but he still wanted to become friends with her. Perhaps, he simply liked her as a woman and began communication. Maybe, there were other reasons behind their meeting and spontaneous introduction. However, their lives in the past didn't intersect, and thus the only seemingly reasonable explanation for their meeting was the fact that Mathieu merely liked Scarlett as a woman who looked prosperous and well-mannered. Scarlett thought that Mathieu was especially startled by the noble and stately air, the air of a well-born woman, which Scarlett, related to the Robillards and coming from a good, rich family of the Old South, accustomed to luxury and extravagant elegance, had in the highest degree. And she was undoubtedly very beautiful and physically attractive for many men. So Mathieu liked her on the back of the aforementioned reasons. But was something else behind this friendship, born overnight in a haphazard manner?

And now Mathieu proposed to get married to him in order to help her avoid disgrace and expecting from her in return help with raising his son. They didn't know each other well enough, and Scarlett found rather strange, even extraordinary, to make such a proposal to a lady whom he met only ten days ago. Mathieu's proposal was very far from she had ever expected and fantasized in her wildest dreams. Why did he propose? Did he plan everything from the beginning? Was an idea to court her spontaneous? Was this marriage a form of business deal for both of them or there was something else behind? Future will give the answer to these questions. Scarlett was astonished and paralyzed for a moment, keeping silent and watching Mathieu's face intently. Of course, she was seduced by the idea to become a well-known aristocratic lady and a powerful Marquise in France and, probably, the whole Europe. She wanted to have access in the European high society, and if she marries Mathieu, it will be a very easy task for her. Her positions in the society will be solid, especially given her relations with the Robillard noble house. She was also attracted by the opportunity to give her child a new name, not clouded with the scandalous reputation of Rhett Butler.

What should she do now? If she gets married to Mathieu, the great Rhett Butler won't be able to take her child away from her, like he did with her precious Bonnie right before her death. She will also prove to Rhett that she can live without him and his recommendations, even loving him madly and unconditionally. Finally, she was Scarlett O'Hara with the mixture of brave Irish and aristocratic French blood of the Robillard and the O'Hara families and she was capable of surviving even without Rhett. She could move on and build her new life, happy one, but with bitter scars of the past, which will hopefully cicatrize over time. She loved Rhett, but she needed to live without him now as she couldn't humiliate herself in front of him again. Besides, she wasn't sure in Rhett's positive reaction to the news about her pregnancy as he made it perfectly clear that he didn't want another child with her. She had to save her and her child's lives from shame and disgrace in the society. Wrapped up in these thoughts, she finally came to the conclusion that if she accepted Mathieu's marriage proposal, she would be safe from Rhett and his possible actions in relation to the child. Maybe, it wasn't such a bad idea. Her conscience took over tormenting her for what she should do now, and finally the enlightenment came to her. Yes, she will get married to Mathieu and will change her life.

Her lips parted. For one second, Mathieu almost thought she was going to reject him. Instead, she shook her head and stared at him. Her chin lifted. "I agree. I will get married to you and help you raise your son, Mathieu," she finally replied. Two bright spots of color appeared on her high cheekbones. In a strangled voice, she said: "I will become your wife."

"Thank you, Scarlett. I am delighted that we understood each other."

"I appreciate your proposal. Thank you very much from the bottom of my heart," Scarlett answered without any shadow of hesitation, but after a certain pause when she was thinking and remembering Rhett. His face seemed to be somewhere behind, not here, on the ship or in London where she was sailing.

"Well then, Scarlett, it is settled."

"Yes."

"We will get married soon. The wedding will take place in London."

"In London?"

"In London," he nodded. "We must do it as soon as you receive the official divorce decree from Rhett because your condition starts showing soon."

Scarlett stared at Mathieu, her hands curled into fists. "I think it won't take much time for Rhett to get divorce," she spat. "I am confident that he would love to send the divorce decree to my lawyer in Atlanta when he gets. He will do it to watch my reaction and humiliate me even more."

"Scarlett, your husband appears to be rather ill-mannered man, and he can try to hurt you more."

"I know."

"However, you are and will be under my protection. I won't let him treat you badly." Mathieu felt very kindly and very protecting toward Scarlett. In sober fact, he liked her as a woman and had a strong both physical and spiritual affection to her.

"Rhett is a very powerful man in the South. He will bribe the County's administration to facilitate the divorce proceedings. He made it perfectly clear that he planned to whistle off me within the shortest period of time." Scarlett averted her eyes to hide unshed tears.

"I am sure that Rhett Butler can bribe anyone to get what he wants," Mathieu drawled slightly. "Scarlett, try not to think about him. It can be harmful in your condition."

"It should be Rhett who protects me and easies my fears now. But Rhett spends his free time in his usual activities – in brothel, gambling, or drinking," she declared. Scarlett turned away from Mathieu as she tried to conceal an uneasiness of her true emotional state.

"This man is not worth talking about. Scarlett, if you had told him about your condition, would you have been sure that he won't divorce you?" Mathieu asked softly.

"I think he won't."

"Would he want to have this child?"

"I am not sure." She shrugged. "Rhett said that he wasn't going to risk his heart again with another child."

"In this case you mustn't torment yourself. Try to forget him and think about your new life." Mathieu's hazel eyes sparkled. "Europe is waiting for your triumph."

"Thank you very much for your heaven-sent proposal. But… but…"

"Scarlett, are you alright?"

"Yes, I am fine. I wanted to say that although my grandmother Solange Robillard was a pure French aristocrat and my mother Ellen spoke excellent French, I cannot speak this language." The emerald eyes testified embarrassment.

"It is not a problem because we will hire a private tutor for you. You will like the language. Besides, I speak English, Scarlett."

"Your English is perfect."

"Also, in France and England you will have to call you relatives as _de Robillard_ instead of simply _Robillard_," Mathieu said. "You need "de" part of the surname in European society, while in the States "de" is not necessary."

"Yes, I know."

"Excellent."

"I am sorry for creating this mess in your life," Scarlett stated apologetically, her eyes beaming slightly. Now that she had resolved on a course of action, she should have felt much better, but she still felt positively wretched. Tossing an apologetic glance at him, she added: "I am so sorry, Mathieu."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, my lady," Mathieu declared. "It is your husband who should be sorry for his shameful and morally contemptible behavior." He looked at Scarlett's demurely fluttering eyelids in adoration.

"Thank you, Mathieu," she said in a humble, reverent voice.

Scarlett strengthened her body from her previous pose when she was lying cuddled as a small child. Her memory again reproduced the events she was contemplating during the past several hours. She has been spending days and days in her enormous bed, being quite weak after extremely difficult labor around a month ago. Having to stay bedridden, Scarlett had a lot of time for reminiscing her unhappy past. Now it was time to remember her arrival to London at the beginning of January 1874.

As they arrived in London, Scarlett no longer needed Fiona whom she had hired in the special agency in Savannah as her personal maid just for the trip to London. She said that the girl could go back to the United States and paid her even more than it had been pre-agreed. Fiona left Scarlett happy and grateful.

Scarlett recalled how happy she was when she arrived in London. In London she was met by _Duchess Marguerite de Ventadour_, who was one of the French Robillards on her father's side. As Pierre Robillard's lawyer from Savannah had sent to Marguerite the telegram about Scarlett's upcoming arrival, she was impatiently waiting for Scarlett, whom she had never seen before and had been enthusiastic to know.

In London Scarlett settled at Marguerite's house – the Marchmont Hall, a gorgeous two-storied red mansion built in the Neo-Romanesque style. The Marchmont Hall belonged to Marguerite's first husband and later was inherited by her son the Earl of Marchmont who wasn't married and lived with her. The Marchmont Hall was located in Mayfair on Albemarle Street, a luxurious district in central London that quickly became Scarlett's favorite one in the whole city. Scarlett wondered if Bonnie and Rhett had lived in this charming area when Rhett took Bonnie on his extended trip to London after running away from Scarlett in the aftermath of their passionate night on the day of Ashley's birthday party.

_Marguerite Marie Gabrielle de Robillard de Bréveaux, Duchess de Ventadour,_ was born in Paris and spent her childhood in the family's chateau in Normandy. She was a middle-aged lady, aristocratic and noble from her skin to her bones in the most positive sense. Marguerite had astonishingly bright, sapphire blue eyes. Her hair was long, deep brunette and partly grizzled. Her height was taller than average: the difference between Scarlett and Marguerite's height measured the whole head. Kind and gentle, proud and honest, intelligent and well-educated, caring and easy-going, she accepted Pierre Robillard's granddaughter with open arms.

Scarlett noticed that Marguerite was always dressed in pure classical dresses, with high neckline, with short or medium-length train or without any train, with long puffed sleeves, and without any excessive embellishment and embroidery. She usually preferred to wear gowns of dark, strict colors – black, grey, blue, green, beige, cream, brown, and various hues of these colors. She was never dressed in any clothes of vivid colors. However, her clothes were very fashionable and exclusively French, not English: Marguerite was loyal to her origin – France. Marguerite told Scarlett that she had been wearing so-called Artistic dresses, which was the new fashion trend in France that rejected the highly structured and heavily decorated and ornamented French fashion. Marguerite pointed out that this new Fashion trend favored beautiful materials and simplicity of design over extravagant clothing of any other style. Marguerite was a pure classic, very strict lady. She was a great lady in her blood.

At the first sight, Marguerite was fascinated by Scarlett's vivacious spirit and headstrong character, her exotic beauty and at the same time heart of a winner and a survivor. But she also saw sadness in her pale green eyes and realized that not everything was perfect in Scarlett's life. Considering it improper, she didn't ask any questions, but she watched and soon concluded that Scarlett had survived through a great tragedy, which imparted more tenderness to her heart. Marguerite tried to make Scarlett's life in London as comfortable as she could.

Marguerite was married twice and widowed twice. Marguerite's first husband was the middle-aged Scottish aristocrat – _Lionel Walter Campbell, 7th Earl of Marchmont_. She got married to the Earl of Marchmont when she was seventeen years old, which happened in 1836. She had one son in her first marriage – _Patrick Walter_ _Campbell_, _8th Earl of Marchmont,_ who was born in 1837 and was her only child living in London. Becoming a young widow in 1840, in 1843 she got married to French aristocrat _Duke Guillaume de Ventadour_ – and had two children with him – her daughter _Sophie Thérèse Louise de Levis__, Baroness de Sennevières_, who lived in France and was married to the French aristocrat, and her son _Julien Gustave Arnaud de Levis, 11th Duke de Ventadour_, who was the one of the ambassadors of France in China and was living for many years in Asia. When Marguerite was married to _Duke Guillaume de Ventadour_, she and her husband lived in France. After the death of her husband in 1868, the Duchess moved to London to live with her son Patrick.

Scarlett liked Marguerite's son Patrick, referred to as _Patrick Walter_ _Campbell_, _8th Earl of Marchmont_. He was half Scottish, half French by blood. For Scarlett it was an incredible mixture, a mixture of exquisite, sensuous French blood and courageous, martial Scottish blood. The Earl of Marchmont was a tall, deep brunette with sapphire blue eyes, like his mother Marguerite's eyes. His mouth was well-curved and full, his skin was alabaster, like his mother's. He was broad in shoulders, but not very masculine. He was a handsome man, and there was an air of pure aristocratism and glamour around him. He also was a dashing gentleman as he was always dressed in accordance with the late, exclusive fashion. There was a fine combination of softness, manhood, strictness, and sternness in his features, which was a result of a mixture of French and Scottish blood. There was enough aristocratism and manhood in him. He was very witty and sarcastic, and there was no indifference and restraint in his eyes and in his demeanor: he was direct and always said what he had thought about the matter.

During the first evening of Scarlett's arrival in London, she had a late dinner with _Duchess Marguerite de Ventadour_ and her son, the Earl of Marchmont. They were sitting in the grand living room, waiting for the meal to be served by the servants. Two bottle of white French wine Muscadet-Sèvre were placed at the table. Lord Marchmont leaned over the table and gripped the bottle of wine. He poured out three glasses of wine for everybody at the dinner table.

Soon two maids appeared with several trays with French meal. They were supposed to have foie gras, chestnut soup with crème Fraiche, and French roasted chicken with cabbage and prunes. Before the dinner Marguerite asked Scarlett about the French menu, and Scarlett didn't mind having it.

"Oh, God! We are again having French food today!" Marchmont exclaimed in frustration as he saw what was served at the dinner table. Then he sipped fine French wine. "We should order something from Scottish cuisine."

"Patrick, if you don't want to eat, you can leave," Marguerite said strictly.

Scarlett was keeping silent and observing the first two people related to the French Robillards she met at that day. She smiled inwardly at Lord Marchmont.

Marchmont grinned at his mother. "I will leave soon, but at first I will eat one piece of foie gras."

Marguerite furrowed her brows. "Are you again going to attend one of your parties?"

"I am going to White's to meet my friends. I am going to play poker or piquet a little and later end up at one of the private parties somewhere in Mayfair, in Belgravia, or in Chelsea," he answered joyfully.

"Oh, Patrick!" Marguerite breathed.

White's was a gentlemen's club, established in 1693 by an Italian man _Francesco Bianco_. Originally, White's was founded to organize the sales of hot chocolate, a rare and expensive product in the 17th century. Such "chocolate houses" were seen as hotbeds of dissent by _King Charles II_. As the time was passing, many of those chocolate houses transformed into fashionable, expensive, and respectable gentlemen's clubs like White's. Since the early 18th century, White's was known to be a large gambling house, while people who frequented it were known as the gamesters of White's. A lot of eccentric bids were made at White's, some of which were bets were on sports, but more often on political developments, especially during the chaotic years of _the First French Revolution_ _of 1789_ and the Napoleonic wars. There also were a lot of social bets, such as whether a friend would marry this year or whom. A lot of British nobles attended card parties and made bets at White's, and many people could lose there their fortunes and be threatened by the debt prisons.

The Earl of Marchmont looked at Marguerite, his blue eyes laughing and kind. "Mother, I love you," he said carelessly and gently. He took a very long swallow from his glass of wine.

"I love you too, son," Marguerite answered. A smile appeared on her face. "Son, will you ever marry? You are not getting younger. Every time I hear that you are going to the party or to White's, I am ready to scream at you," she complained.

"Mother, you know that I am not a marrying man," Marchmont retorted. Then he glared at his mother with kindness. "Marriage is a trap. I will never be trapped." His tone was edged with negligence and contempt for matrimony, and Scarlett clearly distinguished it. "Mother, isn't it better that I will always be with you and only with you?" He grinned.

The Earl of Marchmont said the same words which Rhett said to Scarlett many years ago. How ironic it was! At the same time, for a man who viewed marriage with unmitigated negligence, Marchmont had behaved with amazing, good humor. Even his tone was joking as he saw those unpleasant words. Rhett said the same in another way.

"Oh, my dear son," Marguerite sniveled. She didn't know what to say.

"Mother, please take it easy." Marchmont finished his glass of wine. "Great wine!" He glared at Scarlett and smiled. "Scarlett, you can call me either Patrick or Marchmont, whatever you like more," Lord Marchmont said. He sipped some wine.

Scarlett smiled and also sipped wine. "Thank you, Patrick."

As she also liked Scarlett, Marguerite decided to avoid formalities. "Scarlett, you can also call me by my first name – Marguerite. I think that we can live without any formalities."

"It is a very good idea, mother," he said, his gaze fixed on his mother's face. Then he smiled with a beautiful, aristocratic smile as he glared at Scarlett. "Scarlett, I am delighted to finally meet my third cousin from the United States, and such a beautiful cousin." His smile grew wider.

"Oh, Patrick!" Marguerite breathed and shook her head. "Scarlett, he always makes compliments to women."

Marchmont winked at Scarlett. "Compliments are a part of both debonairness and French courtesy. In addition, a good, truthful compliment is worth thousands of hypocritical compliments," he said.

Scarlett felt as though she was at home. "I can only agree."

Marchmont poured another glass of wine. "I want to make a toast for our meeting, Scarlett. It is a blessed meeting!"

"For the meeting!" Marguerite picked up her glass and sipped wine.

"Thank you very much for your hospitality," Scarlett said as she also sipped wine.

Marguerite smiled. "You are welcome, Scarlett."

Scarlett felt that she liked Marguerite and Patrick. Her first evening in London was spent in a simple, family environment. After the dinner, Lord Marchmont left for White's as he had said during the dinner. Scarlett and Marguerite were left alone in the grand hall. They spent half an hour talking to each other. Scarlett told Marguerite a lot of things about the Old South, about her family, including her mother and her father, as well as her sisters Carreen and Suellen. In return, Marguerite told Scarlett a brief history of the Robillards. Later Marguerite insisted that Scarlett must retire upstairs as she was tired after the journey from Southampton to London. Scarlett was even happy to do that as she was indeed tired after a long journey.

At that night Scarlett was sleeping peacefully for the first time in many months. Sleep claimed her almost immediately and she didn't toss in her bed, trying to find a convenient position. It was as though she arrived from hell – the United States and both Charleston and Atlanta in particular – to paradise – to London to the Robillards. She hoped that her sensations wouldn't change. So far everything was very good, even better than Scarlett had expected before she met Marguerite and her son Patrick.

* * *

_Here we go. Scarlett received her marriage proposal from a noble French gentleman and a new life in Europe is expecting her._

_I hope you like this chapter._

_Reviews are always appreciated. Thank you very much._


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**In London: Scarlett's new life in Europe and the divorce decree from Rhett**

Living at the Marchmont Hall, which was a fine example of the Romanesque Revival or the Neo-Romanesque style employed in Europe beginning in the middle of the 19th century, was a little unusual for Scarlett. She was accustomed to live in her extravagant, yet tasteless dark mausoleum in Atlanta, and the Marchmont Hall was very different from it. The exterior of the building looked rather simple and typical for the Neo-Romanesque Style: harmonious proportions, two large towers, some decorative arcading, distinguishable round arches, and semi-circular arches on windows. No extravagant ornamentation asymmetrical designs, unusual curves and gold or silver decorations were used for the decoration of the exterior of the mansion.

The interior of the house was also fulfilled in the Neo-Romanesque style, and mostly cold, dark colors or white were used in the decoration of the rooms. Scarlett was stunned how high the ceilings in the rooms were, especially the spherical, dazzling white ceiling in the grand hall and the spherical, grey ceiling in the study room. Another interesting element was a painted decoration throughout the interior of the grand hall and the large reception room. In the small reception room near the grand hall and in the study room, Scarlett even found walls decorated in chivalrous themes with swords, spears, javelins, shields, suits of armor, chain armors, and helmets. Many of them had the different armorial bearings, including the Earl of Marchmont's coat of arms - a shield with the black St. Andrew's cross, the sword with a red star in the top of the shield; the black boar's head with red teeth and tongue in the right part of the shield; the red cockerel in the left part of the shield; and an orangeman with an imperial crown in his hands in the center of the shield.

The majority of the bedchambers were also decorated in the same cold, strict Neo-Romanesque style: the traditional white or grey walls; the furniture made of dark oak; the high back chairs and armchairs. The Neo-Romanesque austerity was also revealed in the minimization of the number of the upholstered furniture. As a result, there was little upholstered furniture in the bedrooms, excluding usually excluding two or three upholstered armchairs, several high back chairs, and the bed with a canopy of dense fabric over it. There were also three bedchambers that were a pure product of the Rococo style: with the walls and the ceiling in ubiquitous gold and white and pastels; with their excessive ornamentation of the interior; with large-framed mirrors on the walls; with ornate furniture in _Louis XVI style_, gloriously carved and some pieces painted and gilded.

Loyal to her origin in France, Marguerite occupied the rooms with the Rococo interior, while her son, the Earl of Marchmont, lived in a bedroom decorated in the Neo-Romanesque style. Scarlett occupied one of the three bedrooms in the Rococo style, which was more familiar, more convenient, and more pleasant for her. In general, Scarlett has always liked something more extravagant and ornamented, and at Marguerite's house she realized it once again. The other thing was that the house could be built and decorated with elegant taste, even if the exterior and the interior of the house are in the Baroque or the Rococo styles. Having spent in London so little time and not being educated in art and architecture styles, Scarlett anyway began to feel and understand the difference between insipid, tawdry extravagance and graceful, exquisite extravagance.

_Duchess Marguerite de Ventadour_ quickly became very close with Scarlett. Every day at five in the evening, Marguerite accompanied Scarlett to the promenade in Hyde Park. During the walks, they always encountered Marguerite's friends and acquaintances, and the Duchess introduced Scarlett to these people. She and Scarlett visited different places of interest in London, including the National Gallery, Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey, Hampton Court Palace and other places. Sometimes they were accompanied by Marguerite's son Patrick, the Earl of Marchmont, but it happened rather rarely. In contrast to her son, Marguerite was very enthusiastic about excursions in historical places.

Over time Scarlett learnt that _Patrick Walter_ _Campbell_, _8th Earl of Marchmont_, didn't live in London all the time of the year because he liked countryside and spent much time in their family's castle - the Marchmont Estate in Berwickshire in the Scottish Borders area of Scotland, south east of Edinburgh. Being in countryside, he usually took one of his mistresses with him. In London he usually lived in the Marchmont Hall with his mother.

As the time was passing, Scarlett noticed that at times it was difficult to talk to Lord Marchmont in a daytime. Marchmont often spent many nights outside at gentlemen's clubs or somewhere at private parties, as well as at the houses of one of his mistresses, which he rented for them. During the daytime Marchmont could sleep after the crazy night parties. If he wasn't asleep, he could work in his study room or spent time with his friends and mistresses somewhere else in London. Therefore, Scarlett didn't see the Earl on many occasions. At times, she didn't see him several days in a week because he was always absent or busy, and she had to spend days with Marguerite and Mathieu. Scarlett remarked that Lord Marchmont was an interesting man who was leading a life of a typical rich British noble. Marguerite said that the Victorian period was distinguished by high standards of moral set by _Queen Victoria_, but, of course, there were still people in the high society who didn't follow those strict principles. Lord Marchmont was one of them.

_Patrick Walter_ _Campbell_, _8th Earl of Marchmont_, inherited the title of the Earl when his father died in 1840. He was a three-year-old boy at that time. When Marguerite got married to Duke de Ventadour, he moved to Paris together with his mother. Patrick spent several years in France and later moved back to England to study at Eton College. He continued living in England after the graduation from Eton College and soon was admitted to Oxford University. He was very intelligent, and his education was brilliant.

The Earl of Marchmont had always known as a womanizer and a debauchee in the ton of Great Britain for a very long time. Having simultaneously several mistresses in various cities, famous for his incredible, drunken parties in London or in one of his estates, and known for many extravagant adventures in ladies' boudoirs, the Earl of Marchmont was one of the most notorious members of the so-called community of _les sauvages nobles _(noble savages) of London. In 1876, Patrick still wasn't married, and mothers of young debutantes lost hope to become the Earl of Marchmont's mothers-in-law. Marguerite also lost hope for Patrick's marriage. However, Patrick was a clever debauchee because, born as a son of a rich Earl, Patrick inherited much money and managed to double his wealth in three years after his majority age. The Earl managed his fortune very wisely.

Marguerite told Scarlett a multitude of things about the Robillard noble house in France and about her own family. Marguerite had also introduced Scarlett to her own friends, as well as the Robillard family's friends living in London. Scarlett was extremely pleased for this kind, sincere treatment and felt warmth and sweet balsam covering the numerous wounds and scars of her heart. Scarlett's new life in London, together with continuing communication and meetings with Mathieu, helped her to move on and forget the past at least for a while. Mathieu did his best to distract Scarlett from sorrowful memories and tried to avoid any talks about her husband, anticipating when she would receive any news about the real state of her marriage from the United States.

Upon their arrival in London, Mathieu advised Scarlett to visit a doctor, one of the best specialists in complicated, troublesome cases for women expecting a child. Scarlett with pleasure took the doctor's address and made her appearance in the clinic. The doctor was Mr Steven Adams, a middle-aged pure English man, with the roots in Edinburgh in the North of England. Scarlett was pleased with his care and attention. He examined Scarlett and told her that she must be extremely careful due to her past unpleasant history when she had had a miscarriage as a result of the traumatic fall.

"Mrs Butler, I appeal to you to be eminently careful in your current condition. Your health is very fragile at this moment. I recommend full release of stress and having as much rest as possible," Doctor Steven Adams warned Scarlett and looked at her with genuine concern.

"Doctor Adams, please tell me the truth… Is there any opportunity that I can lose this baby?" Scarlett inquired anxiously, her eyes snapping in alarm and fear for the fate of her child.

"I will be unvarnished with you. You appear to be emotionally and physically exhausted, although your general state of health is fine. The above, coupled with your past traumatic-resulted miscarriage, may cause some problems in carrying your child up to the term," the old doctor said softly.

"Doctor Adams, I don't want to lose this baby." Her voice was slightly shaking.

"You should be fine if you follow my recommendations."

Scarlett needed to know the truth. She was intending to press on the doctor. "What if there will be premature labor? Do I understand correct that you are frightened of this?" she asked in a small voice, tinged with fear and reeling tide of tears. Fear of losing a baby was almost beyond her endurance.

"Mrs Butler, don't lose your courage," Steven Adams comforted his patient and placed his hand on her shoulder. "I don't exclude premature labor, which will decrease the chance of a child's survival. However, I am worried not only about this possibility."

"Doctor Adams, please don't be tongue-tied and supply me the pure truth. What can go wrong during my pregnancy?" Scarlett looked beggarly at the old doctor, while her nerveless weakness was slowly sweeping her.

"I am concerned about your general complications during the pregnancy that could result in spontaneous miscarriage," Doctor Adams answered. "We also don't know what the labor will be like. You told me that in the past your labor had been easy and without any negative complications. I am not entirely convinced that the same will be this time."

"What should I do to avoid these risks? I am ready to spend in the bed all the months up to the labor in order to save the life of this child. I have already lost two children… It cannot happen again, doctor," Scarlett was breathing fast, her lips were trembling.

"Avoid all stress-involved activities and emotions. I know that it is the first time you are in London, but, please, stop hanging around the parties at your friends and various places of interest in the city," Doctor Steven Adams advised Scarlett again as he didn't take her case casually and didn't treat the potential danger of complications in her pregnancy as a matter of small moment.

"Doctor, is there any possibility that I will give birth to a healthy child?" Scarlett asked with tears running down her pale face, but she didn't notice them. "I want this child to live…"

"Mrs Butler, please calm down. You can do this and you will do this. Please, smile now. Look outside the window - the weather is sunny today. Now go home and try to relax. Have a day nap and after this a good dinner," Doctor Adams commanded, handing to her his handkerchief to wipe her tearful eyes.

"I will follow all your prescriptions, Doctor Adams," Scarlett said obediently.

"Everything will be all right with God's help," the old doctor encouraged his patient to hope. "Just don't take additional risks, get plenty of rest, elude stress and any fears, and provide yourself with good vitamin-rich, nutritious daily nourishment."

In general, Scarlett's mood was very alive and pretty blithesome during her stay at Marguerite's mansion until one day she will never forget until her dying day. On January 18, 1874, one of Marguerite's servants placed a thick envelope on Scarlett's nightstand. When Scarlett opened it, she discovered a huge pile of letters, including the letter from Henry Hamilton. The letter had a hazardously substantial effect on all Scarlett's life.

_Dear Scarlett,_

_Your lawyer from Savannah contacted me and gave me your correspondence address in London. I hope you have a good and enjoyable trip._

_Congratulations on your new money inheritance. Money to Rhett was successfully transferred. Rhett was astonished and angry, to your pleasure, I suppose._

_Earlier, I told you to think whether you want Rhett to proceed to the stage of official divorce. I was worried about the dishonor and disgrace that will hit your name and your family immediately after divorce. Looking at the situation as it is now as a man, not only as official entity, I would most likely agree with what you said in our past conversation._

_Please don't be shocked with what happened when you look at the document enclosed to my letter. As I see, it is for the best for you. Rhett does not worth you._

_Please be happy in Europe and let me know about your further plans. Take care of yourself._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Henry Hamilton_

The document attached to Henry's letter was the official document certified by the seals of the administration of the Governor of both Georgia and South Carolina states. The last document was the legitimate evidence of the completed divorce between Rhett Butler, residing in South Carolina in the city of Charleston, and Scarlett O'Hara Butler, residing in Georgia in Atlanta. She expected to receive this document, but how difficult and painful it turned out to be to read it. Scarlett laughed at herself so loudly that the sound echoed in the stillness. She looked at the divorce decree with her slanting green eyes, growing wide and becoming mistier, and for a moment her breath stopped miraculously as a wave of pain fulgurated her body and heart.

It was unbelievable for her, but Scarlett's marriage to Rhett Butler was over, and her whole world fell apart. She couldn't believe that Rhett finally got rid of her in the cruelest manner she was able to imagine and that she would never see him again. It was beyond her comprehension how it was possible that Rhett received divorce with a woman who was carrying his child, although she knew that it was she who didn't declare the truth to Rhett in her unwillingness to swallow her pride and chose to run away from the States. Yes, Scarlett expected that the official divorce would happen sooner or later, but she tried not to think about it by postponing it for tomorrow in accordance with her usual practice. Now she was bathing in the terribly sharp feeling of what it was like to be thrown away like a piece of trash and treated like a whore after confessions of love and nights of passion, long years of living together, giving the child to the man whom she if not loved, but was fond of at the very beginning of their marriage, and finally deeply and madly in love. What a crafty, consummate devil and blackguard her former husband Rhett Butler was in reality! He received the official divorce so quickly and did this when legal divorce was prohibited in the state of South Carolina. Indeed, he was a powerful man and could do everything if he wanted to have it. Even knowing the truth about Rhett's "go-and-get" approach in his life, lack of integrity, and his unscrupulousness conscience, Scarlett couldn't believe in the whirlpool of events that had taken place recently in her life.

Scarlett still remembered her inner ultimate shock and amusement, the combination of formerly unknown feelings of disgrace, shame, sorrow, loss of all hope, and the bitterest deprivation she had never experienced before. She had to recognize her defeat under Rhett's onslaught of brutality and rigidity in his craving to push Scarlett and all the memories related ho his marriage away. Scarlett felt that she was flying from the extreme altitude to the abyss of despair and pain, and all her sins from the past life appeared to be punished by Heavens. She slowly put the letters back to the envelope, produced a howl of despair and indignation, and fainted, making the envelopes with letters drop on the floor haphazardly.

Scarlett recalled that she refused to invite the doctor to her by stating that she was fine and simple slept a little the night before. She lied, having no other alternative, because she didn't want Marguerite to know about her condition before she got married to Mathieu.

"No, I don't need a doctor, Marguerite. Please, don't worry about me. I just remembered my Bonnie… It is my daughter…"

"Your daughter?"

The green eyes flashed in pain. "Yes," Scarlett said in a half whisper.

"My daughter died several months ago. She died in the horse riding accident. It was awful," Scarlett confessed.

"Oh! My poor darling! I didn't know about it," Marguerite granted to a young green-eyed lady a deeply sympathetic glance. She brushed gently Scarlett's cheek by her lips. "I am so sorry for your loss."

"I fainted because I had felt so devastated once her blue eyes replayed in my memory…" Scarlett told Marguerite and started crying quietly. She was lying in the bed, covered by warm blanket up to her chin. Tears were streaming down Scarlett's ashen face as she clutched Marguerite's hand so hard that her nails dug into her flesh.

Marguerite tried to console Scarlett and hugged her tightly. "Scarlett, my dear, I am giving to you my deepest condolences. Please try to relax. Your daughter is in peace now."

"Marguerite, thank you for your support," Scarlett resumed crying as she indeed remembered Bonnie's small head on Rhett's large palm. "I loved my dear Bonnie so much. It is still hurting so much..."

"Darling, hush up! Time will take away your grief. You are still young and can have more children. I know that it is not what you want to hear, but you must move on with her life," Marguerite said softly, her voice was calm and soothing.

"Marguerite, I am fine. I want to rest a little alone, but I don't need a doctor," Scarlett said and wiped her tears by her hands. She wanted to slay alone to give free rein to her tears of defeat and final loss of Rhett as a husband.

"Of course, Scarlett, as you wish. Please, calm down. Take your time. The supper will be served at eight in the evening," Marguerite added and left the room. "If you need something, call for me."

Once Marguerite left the room, Scarlett realized that the only option she was left with was her urgent marriage to _Mathieu Paul Louis de Harlay de Champvallon, 13th Marquis de Bréval,_ in order to save herself and her child from terrible, indelible shame and complete disgrace. Actually, this option wasn't the worst Scarlett could ever have, given Mathieu's status among the beau monde and his money. Anyway, she won't give birth to an out-of-wedlock child because fate sent her another lucky, lucrative alternative. She stood up from the bed, went to the table, and wrote the letter to Henry Hamilton.

_Uncle Henry,_

_Thank you for your letter and the documents you enclosed to it. I wasn't astonished because Rhett told me about his intention to divorce me several times._

_I agree with you, and I have already left Rhett behind with all my grief and my pain. Don't worry about my feelings. Time will cure me and take away all my sorrow. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, as it is said._

_I am not going to return to the United States in the coming future. I will be staying in Europe, either in London or in Paris. Moreover, I have plans to get married soon. My future husband is a French nobleman who loves me and whom I like. Please don't condemn me as I am intending to get married again. It is my life and I know what to do with it. I want to be happy, and I will._

_Please, take care of Ashley and Beau in accordance with the plan we had agreed on before my departure from the United States. If you need more money to cover the liquidity shortfalls at Ashley's mills, please let me know and I will deposit some._

_I kindly ask you to keep in close contact with my lawyer in Savannah, Mr Ralph Massart, who was leading my grandfather's deals. I cannot take them away from him._

_Take care of yourself and thank you for your kindness and for your support._

_Yours faithfully,_

_Scarlett_

Scarlett knew that all the tragedies in her life weren't a bad dream, but just a cruel fate she had to face in her proud, unblessed solitude. Solitude and loneliness became her friends and constant companions during the past months, and she got accustomed to them by putting a mask of baldness and artificial happiness on her face in the public and grieving when standing in her lonesome conspicuity. It was time when she looked at Mathieu's advice to put on her face a mask of polite, calm indifference and courtesy from the new angle. Scarlett remembered Rhett's mask of baldness and extremely sweet politeness in the public and his blank unemotional dark eyes as he was watching her as alertly as a cat watches a mouse hole. This was the time when Scarlett learnt consciously the lesson of the game of impersonal indifference and of masking true feelings, the lesson taught to her by her former husband Rhett Butler. Ever since, she began the so-called indifference-courtesy game in public. Besides, she was sure that the ability to play this game will help her in her new purely aristocratic life which she will lead as Mathieu's new wife.

"God's nightgown! Scarlett O'Hara, stop being so weak and fragile. Stop this self-pity and flagellation. You go and get what you need and want for your own and child's sake. Now you need a new, powerful name and title, and you will get it," Scarlett emboldened herself and managed to compose herself somehow in her general emotional uneasiness and unrest.

That evening Scarlett had a dinner with Mathieu and showed him the official divorce decree. Mathieu took it from her trembling hands and hugged her about her shoulders to console her.

"Scarlett, please try to forget about it. I know that it is not simple, but you must do this for the sake of your child," Mathieu said in an attempt to console Scarlett.

Scarlett looked at Mathieu with dead and blank eyes. "I cannot forget. I hoped that Rhett wouldn't divorce me. But he did."

"We will announce the date of our marriage shortly, I think, tomorrow evening," Mathieu stated, trying to calm down crying Scarlett whom he grew up to worship and love.

"I cannot understand how he could do this to me. Great balls of fire, I still love him and I will love him till the day I die. I tried to forget him and not to think and not to remember, but I cannot..." Scarlett continued.

"Scarlett, you won't help yourself in you continue to think about it. It will result only in more pain and sorrow in your heart."

Scarlett was fighting back her tears and anguish, her heart thudding wildly in her breast. "I cannot, Mathieu! Why does he hate me so much? I was the mother of his daughter and unborn child, even if he doesn't know about this child."

"Scarlett, he is not a gentleman and even not a man. I understand that you lost two children, but it doesn't give him the right to treat you so," Mathieu stated. His hazel eyes flashed in burning anger at Rhett.

"Why doesn't he respect me? I know I was a fool in treating him so badly throughout our marriage. But he is so cruel..."

Mathieu's voice was calm, nearly silky. "Darling, please don't try to find the answers to all these questions nesting in your pretty head. Don't torment yourself."

"Mathieu, why is it so? Why? I love him, and Rhett hates me…. He hates me…" she murmured.

"Scarlett, it is a very bad idea in your condition, especially with your history. Remember that you should be extremely careful this time as the doctor said."

"Yes, you are right, Mathieu. I am fine. It is not important and I will think about it in ages", Scarlett hesitantly stated and took Mathieu's right hand in her too miniature hands. "Thank you, Mathieu. I want our wedding to happen as soon as possible. I will start to show soon… I mean my condition. I hope you understand."

"Don't worry, Scarlett. We will marry in two weeks here in London. After this we will go to Paris to my family house. I have already written letters to my cousin Frédéric and son Charles that I am getting married in London and will bring my new wife with me in Paris within a month."

"I have never been in Paris before. Is it a large city?" Scarlett looked at Mathieu in bewilderment. Mathieu liked her green eyes when Scarlett was astonished as their color became deep green. He also noticed that they became deep green when she was in anger.

"It is very large city. Besides, it is beautiful. You will love it. I will show you all the places of interest there, Scarlett."

"Thank you so much, Mathieu. I want to see Paris."

Mathieu smiled, his hazel eyes were kind. "Darling, you will see it very soon."

Her eyes began to burn even more as she fought off the sting of tears."Rhett loves Paris and often was there during the time of the civil war. I still remembered the green bonnet he brought for me from Paris…" she said, her voice was silky in dreaminess, her gaze distant.

"Scarlett, if you want to start a new life, you should stop dreaming about him," Mathieu handed down a verdict.

"It is difficult, but I will cope with what has come on me," she answered emphatically.

"Yes, you will, and I will help you. Scarlett, you are not alone."

"Thank you, Mathieu." Her voice sounded like far away from her.

Mathieu smiled warmly. "I described you to my cousin Frédéric and mentioned that you are from the Robillard noble house. He was pleased with our wedding, as it comes from his letter," he said.

"I am glad that at least somebody is pleased," Scarlett stated gravely. "Mathieu, do you know my relatives from the Robillards in Paris?"

"Do you mean the Robillards only in Paris?"

"Yes."

"My late wife Antoinette was in good relations with one noble lady from Paris. She is approximately of your age and is very similar to you in many aspects. She is always against the standard rules of the society. Her name is _Annabelle Françoise Julienne de Robillard de Bréveaux, Countess de Morville_. In fact, there are many Robillards in France, but not all of them live in Paris."

"Annabelle Françoise is an interesting name. She must be a wonderful lady as you describe."

"I agree," Scarlett replied. "I want to meet Annabelle."

"You will like Annabelle in particular because her life story is very much alike to your own – many tragedies, scandals, and many husbands."

"You are describing her in the way that makes me impatient to meet her. I also want to meet all my relatives from the Robillards. There are so many names… and people... It is amazing!"

Mathieu smiled joyfully as he noticed that Scarlett had stopped crying. "You will meet them, Scarlett. Annabelle will be the first one. She likes Charles and continues to call on us periodically after my wife's death. I will introduce you to each other. You will undoubtedly become friends because you are very much alike."

Scarlett was astonished. "Thank you, Mathieu. I cannot remember their names… So many new names..."

"You will, don't worry. Over time you will know all Robillards in France and not only them," Mathieu smiled softly.

"And the doctor… I mean will I be able to use a specialist like Mr Adams in Paris?" Scarlett asked anxiously.

"As for the doctor, Mr Steven Adams will continue to watch you in Paris and will travel with us to work there. He also has practice in Paris. I will pay him higher fees. Think of it as a mandatory provision of our marriage," Mathieu added in order to console Scarlett.

"Thanks, Mathieu. I don't know how I can pay you back for all you kindness."

"You don't need to repay. Just love my son Charles and take care of him when I die. This is all what you need to promise me," Mathieu said.

"Don't worry. I will take care of him. I swear to you," Scarlett said genuinely.

After a moment of deep thought, Mathieu smiled dolefully. "I believe you. If I hadn't been so sick, I would try to make you happy. I have grown to love you, Scarlett. You are very unusual woman, exclusive and very rare brilliant on this planet, Scarlett. But I will die soon." His voice trailed off.

"Mathieu, can doctors save you? Let's try to do something..." She paused.

Mathieu smiled at her. "Nothing will help me," he said in a low voice.

"I am very upset about what you are saying..." Scarlett stated genuinely.

"We cannot save me. There is nothing that can cure my disease. It is just of matter of time, probably a year or so."

Scarlett's heart began pounding in her chest, and she held her breath for an instance. "Just one year! Oh God!"

"Let's not talk about my sickness," he offered. "I don't want to make you sad."

"Alright," she agreed. She felt pain in the region of her heart as she deeply sympathized to Mathieu's grief. She didn't want him to die.

"Scarlett," he began and paused. He inhaled uneasily. "My first cousin Anaïs visited me yesterday in the hotel and questioned whether it had been true that I had been going to marry. Nothing had left, and I invited her to our wedding. I am sorry for that."

Scarlett stared at him in bewilderment. "Why are you sorry? This lady is your first cousin."

"We don't like each other. We have never treated each other well," he replied.

"Why is that so?"

"Well then," Mathieu drawled. His breath caught, hurting him. "Anaïs is a very scandalous, notorious woman. She is not a lady and would never be. She is not like Annabelle de Robillard whom I have already mentioned. Annabelle is unconventional, very extravagant. But Anaïs is a fantastic pattern of unbelievable scandal. Anaïs is radiating scandal."

"What did she do improperly or incorrectly?"

Mathieu sighed heavily. It was evident that he hadn't liked this topic. "Anaïs had had many scandalous love affairs with English and French Dukes. She has a special appetite for Dukes. She usually seduces only them. She had several out-of-wedlock children. She had affairs even with my friends, like my close friend the Duke of Aylesbury. I am happy that Aylesbury left her a year ago. Currently, she is having romances simultaneously with the Earl of Marchmont and with _Duke Roger d'Estissac_. Marchmont was the only Earl she had seduced in the past years. He is too handsome, and she pursued him several months."

"The Earl of Marchmont? Marguerite's son?"

"Yes."

Her head jerked up. She looked at him in surprise. "The world is indeed small, especially among the beau monde."

Mathieu sighed heavily and crossed his arms on his chest. He thinned his lips, making a sound of disgust. "I am afraid that if Anaïs attends our wedding ceremony, she can take with her _Duke Roger d'Estissac_ who is rumored to be in London now. You know, Scarlett, Marchmont will also be attending our wedding. I addition, my friend the Duke of Aylesbury will attend the wedding, and he also used to be Anaïs's lover. I hope Anaïs will be clever enough not to bring two of her current lovers into the same room, accompanied by the third former lover in the same room."

Scarlett gave a half shrug to him. "I hope so."

"I had to invite Anaïs when she came to me. I couldn't just push her away. It is not in accordance the etiquette," Mathieu explained.

Scarlett smiled at him. She had rarely seen such gentle, dignified people like Mathieu. He was always following etiquette, afraid even to reject his own cousin as it was improper. "Mathieu, I understand," she said gently.

Mathieu smiled, his eyes radiating heat. "Thank you, darling. I knew that you would understand."

Mathieu told Scarlett that his first cousin _Anaïs Laure Victurnienne de Harlay_, _Baroness de La Chardonnière,_ was leading too flamboyant life. After the death of her husband, Anaïs had many love affairs, some of which was quite scandalous. Having her own three children she gave birth in her matrimony, Anaïs also had several out-of-wedlock children. She refused to get married again in order to hide this shame and continued her frivolous, sybarite lifestyle, while in public she always behaved like a proper unhappy widow. It seemed everybody among the beau monde of Paris and London had been uneasily aware that she was definitely not quite the charming widow she had played in public. She was famous for her extravagant preference to seduce the Dukes. Her long-held relationship with _Roger Paul Alexandre Louis de La Rochefoucauld, 3rd Duke d'Estissac, _was known by the whole Parisian high society. Anaïs even had love affairs with several of Mathieu's friends and acquaintances, including her love affairs with _Ian Colin Murray, 9th Duke of Lauderdale,_and later with _Philippe Justin Arden, 8th Duke of Aylesbury,_ both of them being handsome, rich aristocrats, powerful and well-known in the European high society. Mathieu was especially unhappy with Anaïs's amourette with the Duke of Aylesbury, who was his close friend, but he couldn't dictate Aylesbury whom to take as his mistress. As a result, Anaïs and Mathieu didn't communicate much, but rather avoided each other.

Memories were flooding Scarlett's mind. Everything in her life changed so quickly: escape from the States to London, relocation to Paris, divorce with Rhett, and subsequent marriage to Mathieu. Scarlett's life veered round in a revolutionary new direction as she was away from the States, in Europe, and was now a wife of a noble French gentleman, an aristocrat thru and thru.

After they had agreed on the date of the wedding, time went on quickly, and at last Mathieu showed Scarlett the special wedding license. There were the two names in the license - _Mathieu Paul Louis de Harlay de Champvallon, 13th Marquis de Bréval, _and _Scarlett O'Hara Hamilton Kennedy Butler_. Scarlett still remembered a semblance of the printed form of several words by the Bishop of the Church of the Immaculate Conception invoking a blessing on them and doing it as sincere as could possibly be expected. However, it wasn't a good memory for Scarlett because she wasn't happy, although she accepted her marriage to Mathieu as a due fact, as what had to be done. She felt obliged to him because he was ready to save her from disgrace.

In London, Mathieu introduced Scarlett to his dear friends _Philippe Justin Robillard-Arden, 8th Duke of Aylesbury,_ and _Julian St John Lessard, 13th Earl of Effingham_. Mathieu mentioned that the Earl of Effingham and the Duke of Aylesbury were powerful and very noble gentlemen in England. Mathieu also said that _Philippe Justin Robillard-Arden_ was closely related to the Robillard noble house because his mother was from the French Robillards, and later Marguerite said the same. Scarlett was happy to get acquainted with her relatives of the Robillards living in London, and now it was not only Marguerite.

_Philippe Justin Robillard-Arden, 8th Duke of Aylesbury,_ was a tall handsome man with jet-black hair, straight and thick. His height was taller than average, his body was masculine. He looked between thirty seven and forty years old, but Mathieu told Scarlett that he had turned forty four in December 1873. He looked younger than his actual age, and Mathieu even underscored that Aylesbury's eldest sons Jasper and Morgan and their father looked more like brothers than like father and their sons. Aylesbury's very dark brown, nearly black eyes, were always ironically surveying people from under weary lids, betraying no emotion but boredom. His nose was too straight, his skin was a little swarthy, while his mouth was very well-formed, firm and thin-lipped, which effectively stressed his powerful dark attractiveness, which was the typical dark attractiveness and handsomeness of the Robillards. Aylebsury had a memorable appearance.

The Duke of Aylesbury's manners proclaimed the gentleman, and he had a decided air of fashion, which, however, he made rather individual as he had obviously felt nostalgia for the 18th century and often added to the modern Victorian fashion some elements from the past, like his infamous love for silky shirts with high pleated collar and with full sleeves trimmed with Venetian laces. There was something enigmatic in all his appearance, in his manner to speak, and in his demeanor. There was nothing gentle in his appearance, but he was alluringly, masterfully handsome. The air of both enigma and mystery in him spellbound and magnetized everybody to him. Aylesbury was very handsome, and a lot of women in London and in Europe found him an interesting man to have an affair with. The Duke of Aylesbury was known to be among the so-called _les sauvages nobles _of London, but he wasn't the most notorious of them.

The Duke of Aylesbury looked like a man who would break any rules if it was what he needed. Another important feature was that Aylesbury was as dispassionate as a devil, and neither his face nor his eyes showed any semblance of emotion, apart from calmness, coldness, and even boredom. His beautiful black eyes were stony and aloof. Mathieu said that Aylesbury was called "_a dispassionate Boreas" _among the beau monde of Europe: _dispassionate_ due to his constant nonchalance and _Boreas_in honor of _Boreas_, a Greek God of the north wind and of winter. However, each time when the Duke of Aylesbury smiled at Scarlett, she didn't feel this coldness, but she didn't analyze why it was so and not otherwise.

_Julian St John Lessard, 13th Earl of Effingham, _was the eldest son of _Oliver St John Lessard, __11th Duke of Effingham and Guilford._ He was the Duke of Aylesbury's closest and the best friend. Like Aylesbury, he was forty four at the beginning of 1874. Effingham was a tall, masculine, handsome man, like Aylesbury, but his appearance and handsomeness was different from Aylesbury's: there was not dark, but a light attractiveness in him. He had strikingly blue eyes and thick, platinum blonde hair. His gaze always had directedness, but no fire – his blue eyes were cold and indifferent. He also was a passionless person, but there was no boredom and enigma in his eyes. In contrast to the Duke of Aylesbury, Effingham was known to be _a reformed rake_ after he had happily married his wife Lynette twenty three years ago. Like Aylesbury, Effingham also was Mathieu's good friend.

* * *

_Please pay attention to the Duke of Aylebsury in the story. He is one of the most interesting characters in the whole story. Why it is so, you will realize in Act III. _

_Reviews are very much appreciated. Thank you very much!_


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**In London and Paris: "It was all very dreamlike, incredible and fathomless, but it was reality"**

Scarlett discovered _Philippe Justin Robillard-Arden, 8th Duke of Aylesbury_, to be a very pleasant man. In London she spent much time with him as the Duke of Aylesbury took her for a ride in Hyde Park in his extravagant high flyer phaeton, escorted her to balls, assemblies, card-parties in the society, to opera, and to the theater. They visited even several concerts of Ancient Music in Hanover Square. They also did some nice shopping together on Bond Street. Scarlett found his attention and good, even delicious care of her very valuable because in her depressed state of mind she needed attention and feeling that she wasn't alone. Mathieu encouraged Scarlett to spend time with the Duke of Aylesbury and sometimes even initiated the Duke's escort for her to various events.

Scarlett noticed that the Duke of Aylesbury and Lord Effingham were the epitomes of the latest fashion and of the pure aristocratic manners. _Marquis Mathieu de Bréval_ called each of these two gentlemen "_a pattern of dandyism from Regency England_." When Scarlett asked why it was so, he told her the story that Beau Brummell was credited with introducing and establishing as traditional, even mandatory in the ton, fashion - the modern men's suit worn with a tie.

"Scarlett, darling, this famous Beau Brummell took five hours per a day to dress. He also recommended that boots be polished with champagne," Mathieu joked and laughed out. "It is said that Brummell's style of dress predetermined the appearance of _dandyism_."

"Five hours per day? It is so much time!" Scarlett exclaimed, her brows curving in explicit astonishment. "Even the most extravagantly and fashionably dressed lady doesn't waste so much time on dressing in front of the mirror."

"It can be only rumors, Scarlett. However, this gentleman was the founder of the dandy style," Mathieu said gladsomely. Joy and happiness were written on his face." The Duke of Aylesbury and Lord Effingham are known to be among the most elegant people among the beau monde, so that I call them "a pattern of dandyism."

"Your friends are very nice, Mathieu. I must thank his Grace the Duke of Aylesbury for escorting me to so many events."

"I have known many of my friends for a very long time. For example, the Duke of Aylesbury has been my dear friend for more than twenty five years. He will be the witness on our wedding if you don't mind."

"I like this idea. Marguerite de Robillard will be my witness."

"It is settled."

"Thank you, Mathieu."

"Now you should prepare for your first ball at Willis's Rooms, former Almack's. The Duke of Aylesbury will escort you as he is listed there as the exclusive guest and thus can take guests who aren't approved by the strict patronesses of the club. He is listed in all respectable clubs of London and is received everywhere."

"I feel nervous."

"You will be fine." Mathieu's face brightened. "Trust me," he reassured her. "You will be fine, especially if you are chaperoned by Aylesbury."

"The Duke of Aylesbury is helping me so much."

"And he is doing it with pleasure." Mathieu caught both Scarlett's hands in a hearty clasp. Mathieu was so attached to her happiness and so sincere. "I want you to have a good evening today because Almack's represents the whole English ton. Being accepted at the ball there means being accepted everywhere in London."

After the conversation with Mathieu, Scarlett went to her bedchamber and spent several hours with Marguerite, trying to choose the attire for the ball at Almack's. They decided in favor of a ball dress of white crepe with velvet ribbons spangled with gold, which was quite classic model, without any extravagant details, which Scarlett liked so much. However, classic elegance was necessary for the evening because it was Scarlett's first evening at Almack's. Her hair was arranged in a myriad of loose curls confined by a ribbon with a bow over her left eye. When Scarlett and Marguerite went downstairs in the hall, _Patrick Walter_ _Campbell_, _8th Earl of Marchmont,_ Marguerite's son, said that Scarlett was a vision to please even the most exacting critic. Marchmont wished Scarlett best of luck at Almack's and retired to his bedroom to dress for the evening, planning to go to White's for several hours and then attend the card party at the Duke of Northumberland's house. Later the Duke of Aylesbury collected Scarlett from the Marchmont Hall, and they drove to the King Street.

When they finally entered the most famous ballroom in the whole Europe and, possibly, even the whole world, Scarlett's wasn't impressed. She found nothing special about the Almack's, apart from spacious, but not greatly furnished rooms, and some bad snacks in small assortment. _Philippe Justin Robillard-Arden, 8th Duke of Aylesbury_, explained that it was traditional for this place due to the general conservatism of the ton and the highest level of respectability and acceptability for people coming at Almack's. The place was all about dancing and not about gambling, although there were card-tables in room adjacent to the ballroom. The reason to come at Almack's is to be seen by others and to see others. Having met with several of his friends, they soon were deep in conversation, and the Duke of Aylesbury introduced Scarlett to many of his London friends, all noble, but not necessary rich. Philippe introduced Scarlett as Marquis Mathieu de Bréval's fiancée and his relative from the French Robillards.

The evening went well, and Scarlett was accepted by the people. At the beginning she didn't dance much because the Duke of Aylesbury actively introduced her to his friends and even to his son _Jasper Alastair Robillard-Arden, the heir apparent to 8th Duke of Aylesbury and_ _10th Marquess of Wycombe_, a charming young man of approximately Scarlett's age. As it was explained to Scarlett, being the Duke of Aylesbury's eldest son, this young man also received the title of _the Marquess of Wycombe_, which was the subsidiary title of the Duke of Aylesbury and it was a customary rule for the eldest son to hold it before accepting the title of the Duke of Aylesbury. In the ton Jasper Robillard-Arden was referred to as Lord Wycombe.

The rooms were stuffy and full, and a large part of the gathering was composed of very young ladies who came here for their first ball in order to be presented to the society and find a respectable husband. There were a lot of men who were supposed to be hunting for a proper fiancée, but in fact many of them were just involved in idle talk with friends and acquaintances. It was fashionable to be at Almack's, and people attended the balls regularly. The Master of Ceremonies presented several of young men as dance partners to Scarlett, but she stood up for the first two dances with the Duke of Aylesbury and for one with his son Jasper. Only later a lot of men attacked Scarlett, inviting her to dance, and she accepted these invitations with joy. Many admirers left their cards for her on that evening. Scarlett didn't like many of them because they reminded her empty dandies and besotted fools who kiss the hem of women's skirts, begging their permission to be their lord and master.

The Duke of Aylesbury smiled enigmatically as he held out his hand to Scarlett who emitted gorgeousness in the halo of light in the ballroom. The radiance of thousands of candles filtered through the thin tissue of her beautiful evening gown, outlining a tight, svelte body. She was still rather slender, and her pregnancy wasn't very remarkable. Aylesbury and Scarlett looked magnificent together irresistibly beautiful.

"Madame Scarlett, I daresay I could positively embrace you for your behavior today. The evening went very well, and now you are accepted in the ton of England," the Duke of Aylesbury said.

"Thank you for escorting me here today, your Grace," Scarlett replied and smiled at him. "But between you and me, I can find nothing notable in this place."

"I completely agree," the Duke smiled heartily. "However, this visit is about acceptance in the society. It was your official debut in the ton, which resulted in triumph. Today everything went well, and, besides, you got acquainted with many people today. In the future you can just come here once a year in order not to lose connections among respectable people. I will precisely make you listed here."

"I understand this. Thank you very much, your Grace," she responded and looked at the door. She was tired, perhaps, because of her pregnancy. Her face turned rather pale.

"That's fine, young lady." The Duke's gaze followed the direction of hers. "If you are tired, we can leave now because our task for today was solved. I will escort you home in my carriage."

"Thank you, your Grace," she said numbly and sighed heavily.

Aylesbury smiled light-heartedly. "The most important now is to accompany you home."

"And what will you do?" Scarlett suddenly asked. Her face was flushing as she felt embarrassed.

"Lady Scarlett, please don't feel uncomfortable," the Duke emboldened her. "You will be off to White's for an hour or so. I am sure I don't know what gentlemen would do if there were no clubs to spend time in."

The Duke of Aylesbury cheerfully smiled at her. "And I don't know what ladies can do without the balls."

Then the Duke of Aylesbury and Scarlett laughed aloud in unison, and it was a genuine, warm-hearted laugh. Several old matrons and gentlemen even turned their heads to glance at them in astonishment as they had rarely heard Aylesbury's melodic, sincere laugh, if had heard at all. Scarlett definitely liked Aylesbury as a personality. His frank, sincere, manly way of speaking induced her to stretch out her hand to him as they were going to exit the ballroom. As their sonorous laugh faded away in the ballroom, without another word or look at the other couple, they strolled with seeming casualness toward the brilliantly lit doors of the ballroom and left.

The days in London were passing quickly. It was all very dreamlike, incredible and fathomless, but it was reality. Scarlett remembered her wedding day with Mathieu as they slowly and graciously passed through the aisle of smiling people in the Church of the Immaculate Conception in Mayfair; the Mathieu's joyfully confident face and her own deathly pale face; his steady voice and her own replies in a shaking voice amid the blaze of hundreds of candles; numerous congratulations afterward and the short marital kisses; the celebratory dinner with the top London aristocracy and then dancing - all was like a dream for Scarlett. She knew that it was a necessary step for her at that stage of her life, but she still thought that she was daydreaming. Feeling of Rhett's kisses and his dark mocking eyes appeared to be unreal and left somewhere in the past.

"Scarlett and Mathieu, I wish you happiness and joy," _Duchess Marguerite de Ventadour_ declared and hugged Scarlett. "I am very happy that you got married today."

"Monsieur and Madame de Bréval, all the best to you," Lord Marchmont declared.

"Please accept my congratulations," the Duke of Aylesbury pronounced heartily and smiled warmly. "Mathieu, you must take good care of your wife. She is one of the most beautiful and interesting women I have ever met."

Aylesbury smiled again, and this smile was not merely an affair of lips and eyes, as most smiles are, but rather an illumination of his whole body and heart. It was as though there was a sort of flame inside of him, irradiating him from his chestnut crown to the tips of his toes. Later Marguerite whispered to Scarlett that it was a very rare moment when the passionless, supercilious Duke of Aylesbury smiled wholeheartedly.

"Congratulations to you, _Marquis and Marquise de Bréval_," Lord Wycombe, the Duke of Aylesbury's son Jasper, said merrily.

"Congratulations! You are a good couple," _Baroness_ _Anaïs de La Chardonnière_, Mathieu's cousin, said. "Mathieu, thank you for your invitation on the wedding."

Mathieu's fears turned out to be void because Anaïs didn't bring her lover _Duke Roger d'Estissac_ on the ceremony. Instead, she spent the majority of the time with the Earl of Marchmont. Anaïs also behaved rather light-mindedly with the Duke of Aylesbury while he treated her as a polite stranger, not paying attention to her flirt and hints. Scarlett also didn't like her. She agreed that she had been radiating a scandal, and not a simple scandal, but a dirty scandal. Scarlett felt it in her bones.

"Happiness to the newly wedded couple!" somebody from the guest declared.

"Congratulations, Madame and Monsieur de Bréval," another guest said.

"Happiness and long life to the bride and the bridegroom," somebody said.

"Congratulations..." was buzzing everywhere.

Later a wedding night followed, a night when Scarlett was tossing and turning in her lonely bed, dreaming about Rhett. Nothing happened on that night as their marriage was a pure business arrangement. At least Scarlett perceived it in such a manner. Mathieu kissed his new wife on her cheek and retreated in his own suite on the same floor, leaving Scarlett alone with her dreams. She had to spend this night and all the following ones before the final move to Paris in the hotel where Mathieu was staying in order not to evoke suspicions. She no longer needed to live at the Marchmont Hall with Marguerite because now she had a husband.

Scarlett became _Catherine Scarlett Athénaïs de Robillard de Bréveaux, Marquise de Bréval_. Instead of Katie Scarlett, Scarlett's name was changed in accordance with French standards and fashion and the third name was added, which was advised to be done by Mathieu. The third name – Athénaïs – was offered by the Duke of Aylesbury, and Scarlett liked the idea. _Scarlett O'Hara Hamilton Kennedy Butler_ no longer existed in the world, and she was happy to stay her sorrow and pain behind. Butler was a damned name for her to think, she mused.

After the wedding in London, Scarlett sent the telegram to Henry Hamilton to Atlanta and to Mr Massart to Savannah with the announcement of her recent remarriage and her new correspondence address in Paris. She also sent a short telegram to Mammy to Tara with her address for correspondence and assured Mammy that she was fine and decided to continue her travelling in Europe. She just mentioned that she liked Paris and got married to a noble French gentleman without any further explanations.

Another part of the dream was Scarlett's move to Paris immediately after the wedding and her final settling down at Mathieu's grand stucco-fronted mansion on _Rue des Blancs Manteaux_ in the aristocratic district _Le Marais_. It was an old large building in the Baroque style. Both the exterior and the interior of the building were characterized by opulent use of color and ornaments, like figures made of stucco, marble and gilded wood. There were numerous small sculptures in the grand hall and in both small and large reception rooms. Inside the rooms were designed as total works of art. Furniture was elegant, ornate, massive and opulent, intricately detailed to accent embellishments with curved legs, carved details, and gilding. Textiles, which were used in interior decoration, were high-end, luxurious and expensive. There were also a lot of gilded and ornamental accessories, crystal chandeliers and gilding on statues. The bedchambers, including Mathieu's master bedroom, were decorated in _Louis IV style_ or _Louis XV style_. Scarlett was amazed by large-scale ceiling frescoes in the grand hall, as well as in the large reception room and in the study room. In each of the numerous bedrooms there were large-framed ornamental mirrors and wall paintings.

Despite its rather extravagant ornamentation, Mathieu's mansion was indeed a fine house, fitted up, obviously, in the first style of elegance, a product of great taste, light and with elegant interior inside, with many pictures of European painters and rare sculptures, collected by Mathieu worldwide. Scarlett really liked the place. She especially liked the grand hall, which was a fine noble room with light blue walls, dark blue ornamented and gilded ceilings, and with tall windows giving on to the street. Each time she compared Mathieu's house to her former house in Atlanta, she felt ashamed as she put Rhett into the trouble of living in the odious, almost vulgar house on Peachtree Street. Once again, she realized the difference between cheap, albuminous extravagance and grand, elegant, nearly oversubtle extravagance, as extravagance could also be beautiful and exquisite, like Mathieu's house was.

A lot of meetings, private parties, balls, card-parties, and celebratory dinners with French aristocrats and rich _bourgeoisie_ followed, together with a bunch of marital congratulations and blessings, accompanied by Scarlett's fake smiles. Scarlett was immediately introduced to some of the Robillards. On several balls and card parties Scarlett came across the Duke of Aylesbury and Lord Effingham as they spent much time in Paris and had a multitude of friends and acquaintances there. On one of the parties, Scarlett also met _Baroness_ _Anaïs de La Chardonnière _with her lover _Duke Roger d'Estissac. _Again, Scarlett concluded that she didn't appreciate meeting her as she considered Anaïs too notorious and too brazen-faced.

Scarlett danced, smiled and talked to all these unfamiliar people. They liked her and respected her as a young wife of a wealthy aristocrat. They adored Scarlett for her beauty, passion for living, and many other qualities because she was shining as a brilliant in all this crowd of the upper-class moneybags. There was something in Scarlett that made her stand out from other beautiful aristocratic ladies, something that made men stop when she was graciously passing by them in the ballroom of the mansion or in the dinner hall of a hotel. Scarlett enjoyed that these people were much more manner-relaxed than in the South of the United States.

She smiled and talked over and over again, saying things mechanically and smiling irrelevantly. She repeated the same many times, almost mechanically. Scarlett wondered whether all these people could see that her happiness was shoddy and that her true heart was broken. No, they didn't see it, and only Mathieu and another person - Madame Annabelle de Robillard – knew the truth.

_Marquis Mathieu de Bréval_ introduced Scarlett to _Annabelle Françoise Julienne de Robillard de Bréveaux, Countess de Morville_. Mathieu knew her very well because Annabelle was his deceased wife's Antoinette's close friend. Annabelle was one of the French Robillards. More accurately speaking, her father Vincent was from the French Robillards, while her mother Gwendolyn was the youngest daughter of a Scottish nobleman - _James William Cunningham, 17th Earl of Glencairn_. Annabelle was Scarlett's third cousin.

Annabelle was very attractive and breathtakingly beautiful. Scarlett even thought that she had never seen such a beautiful woman like Annabelle had been. Annabelle's height was average, and she had a slender, perfectly boned, very well-shaped figure. Her pale alabaster skin contrasted very well with her long, straight, dark blonde hair. The features of Annabelle's face were nearly classically beautiful, except for her mouth that was rather thin, but the lips were delicately carved and medium-full, and it was a mouth that smiled often, but it was a cold, indifferent smile. Her cheekbones were proportionally high, the nose classically straight and perfectly molded. Her eyes were almond-shaped and startlingly grey between the thick, curling black lashes and the golden brows. Annabelle's face could easily be compared with the statues of Roman and Greek Gods. At the same time, there was something enigmatic, incomprehensible, and even fatal in all her appearance, which contributed to the perception of Annabelle as an unusual, extraordinary woman. She possessed a beauty of a cold, mysterious Goodness.

Annabelle's grey eyes had bold directedness, sometimes ironic and mocking, sometimes weariful and faraway, but very rarely purely warm and benevolent in public. She was always polite and her behavior exhibited a great French courtesy, but she remained restrained, passionless, and aloof. Wherever Annabelle was – either in public or in private with the Robillards and her friends, at a first glance it was always possible to inevitably discover the intelligence in her grey eyes, as well as the decided air of resolution in the curve of her mouth.

Undoubtedly, Annabelle was one of Paris and London's most beautiful and most notorious women. She had been used for the past thirteen years to hearing herself proclaimed a strikingly beautiful woman. Among the beau monde of Paris, obsession with her beauty began immediately after she had appeared in Paris from _Normandie_ and had joined _Napoleon III's_ court as a lady-in-waiting in 1861. As she was strikingly beautiful and at the same time enigmatic, she was nicknamed _grey-eyed Despoina_ by the courtiers, _Despoina_ being a Goddess of mysteries in Greek mythology.

Although having almost classical beauty, Annabelle was not a model of Roman womanly virtue, which meant that a woman must be a one-man woman, a perfect mother, wife, daughter, and attractive. She was married to various French noblemen thrice and widowed thrice, and she had always had numerous cavaliers and admirers, as well as many lovers, especially in the first years of her life at _Napoleon III's_ court. Being beautiful, Annabelle was known in the high society of France as _femme fatale_, beautiful, extravagant, seductive, and scandalous, enslaving men's hearts and then breaking them, like Scarlett did in its sober fact. Bizarrely, few people knew that Annabelle's heart was also broken. However, even in public people saw that something had changed in Annabelle's mindset from the moment when her late husband had died in 1871: she no longer was as interested in social life as she had been before, and something tragic emerged in her appearance, although she was as beautiful as she had always been.

Scarlett and Annabelle liked each other from the first sight and quickly became close friends. They were too much alike and distinguished their similarity from the very beginning. With Scarlett, Annabelle was always behaving differently than she behaved in public. She transformed into an interested, caring, loyal person, attentive and mindful friend. Her grey eyes turned alive, and there was a flash of joyfulness and benevolence in her eyes. When she smiled, this smile touched not only her lips, but also animated her beautiful eyes. As Annabelle was with Scarlett, warmth and light were radiating from her, and she was vivacious and energetic, relaxed and efflorescent, in contrast to her polite indifference and cold debonair in public.

Scarlett didn't question the fact why Mathieu helped her so much and in fact saved her reputation. Why should a noble powerful French man help a little-known young woman from Georgia, divorced and escaped from the States, even if they became friends and he liked her as a personality? Was their marriage perceived by Mathieu only as a sort of business arrangement because he was dying and needed somebody to raise his son? Did Mathieu love her? At times, these thoughts crossed Scarlett's mind, but she was too tired to concentrate on it. She continued to live in her own dreamlike trance and didn't want it to be shattered like crystal before harsh reality of life. She felt measureless gratitude to him and treated him like a close friend, with courtesy and respect. Mathieu responded with his own pure aristocratic courtesy and was very attentive to her needs and desires, despite his fragile, deteriorating health.

Scarlett's thoughts stopped on her recent labor. Of course, she remembered her difficult pregnancy very well. She constantly felt sick, like never before, and was bedridden from the seventh month because Doctor Steven Adams was afraid of premature labor to occur, which would undermine the likelihood of the child's survival significantly if it had happened. She knew that this difficult pregnancy was at least partly attributable to her miscarriage resulted from the fall from the grand staircase in her house in Atlanta, which was also proved by Doctor Steven Adams. Deep inside her heart, Scarlett was afraid of the possibility to copy Melanie's fate and die as a result of a miscarriage with her second child whom she desperately wanted to be a daughter. She also cultivated the fear of death in childbirth, partly due to her miscarriage, but mostly thanks to her current ill pregnancy. Scarlett even asked Mathieu to contact Rhett if she died in childbirth, although she wasn't sure that it was the best idea that had ever popped in her head.

Rhett wasn't with her to console her and take away all her fears, and, being alone, Scarlett desperately prayed to God to let her and her child live. She thanked Heaven that her newly acquired friend Annabelle de Robillard spent all the time with her, trying to ease Scarlett's fears and pain and assuring her that she would make it through. Annabelle even temporary moved to Mathieu's house in order to be closer to Scarlett to encourage and inspire her. Annabelle became the person who consoled Scarlett and saved her from complete emotional collapse in those lonesome months of the difficult pregnancy. Mathieu de Bréval also did his best to appease his pregnant wife by sending her flowers, new gowns, jewelry, and other gifts in order to elevate Scarlett's mood and distract her from her fears. If there hadn't been Mathieu and Annabelle, Scarlett would have gone mad in her despair and unblessed forlornness, all-absorbing trepidation and general emotional tumult in her head. Captured by her fears, Scarlett blamed Rhett for her misfortune when any thought or memory of him slipped her mind.

Scarlett's labor started on the late afternoon of July 17, 1874. It was time-consuming, extremely difficult, and even fearful as Scarlett lost a lot of blood and was very weak. It was completely different from her past labor with Bonnie. It took around thirty hours, and each hour Scarlett thought that it was her last hour, minute, or second, asking Annabelle to contact Rhett when she dies. Sometimes, she was loudly calling for Rhett in her despair, sobbing uncontrollably. At times, crushed with strong wave of pain overcoming her body, Scarlett repeated multiple times that she would hate and despise Rhett Butler even after her death. Annabelle clapped her hands in frustration and embarrassment in front of Doctor Steven Adams, but could do nothing and even didn't want to because she was too much afraid of Scarlett's fate. Doctor Adams didn't understand why she was calling for Rhett instead of her husband Mathieu, but he didn't ask unnecessary questions. Eventually, it turned out to be that one more reason for her hard and troublesome pregnancy was discovered – she was carrying twins. Moreover, her bleeding didn't stop during several days after the labor, and Doctor Adams spent almost four days at Mathieu's mansion, struggling with Scarlett's parturient complications. Finally, everything went fine and Scarlett was in no danger.

Finally, on July 18, 1874, Scarlett gave birth to two small beautiful girls, one green-eyed, like her mother, and one blue-eyed, like her darling Bonnie. Scarlett was crying from a mixture of happiness and pain when she memorized Bonnie's little head in her and Rhett's arms. But once doctor placed in her hands two small bundles in each with her precious daughters, Scarlett felt like being on the moon from happiness.

"These children are amazing. Scarlett, look at them. One of them is dark green-eyed and another one has perfectly blue eyes," Annabelle exclaimed.

"Yes, they are a gift from Heaven! My Bonnie had the same eyes. Give the blue-eyed lady to me," Scarlett asked. "I have another chance to become a good mother."

"They are just perfect. The green-eyed baby has your eyes, Scarlett. It is amazing!" Annabelle exclaimed joyfully. "You will be a great mother, I am sure!"

"Yes, her eyes are very similar to the eyes of small kitten, like my eyes..." Scarlett laughed sincerely. "Melanie Wilkes wanted to have a daughter and died. I prayed for these children to live during my whole pregnancy. I was so scared, Annabelle."

"Now everything is fine and will be fine with God's help and your attempts to make them happy and be a good mother to them. By the way, the blue-eyed girl doesn't appear to have your skin, while the green-eyed girl is taking your magnolia-white skill."

Scarlett nodded. "You are right, darling. The blue-eyed girl has Rhett's skin and Bonnie's eyes. The green-eyed girl has my skin, but not my eyes."

"Her eyes are much darker than yours. If the color of her eyes doesn't change, they will be very dark green. It will be midnight green."

Scarlett glared at her. "You think so?"

"I am sure."

"Well then," Scarlett drawled. "In this case the blue-eyed angel can take more after her real father. The green-eyed anger will have less resemblance."

"Scarlett, pray enlighten me how you will name the children. Do you prefer French or Irish names?"

"I want to name them Blanche and Isabelle, but I don't know about the second and the third names," Scarlett said. "I don't plan to name my daughters after somebody from the past – I don't want to have reminders."

"These names are charming, darling. I like them." Annabelle laughed out.

"At first I wanted to combine two names of the Queens for each of the girls, but that was Bonnie's case." Scarlett paused. "I don't know what to do."

"Then combine three names of the queens in one name. I used the same principle when I named René," Annabelle suggested.

"Great idea!" Scarlett exclaimed. "However, I don't want to use such names as Victoria and Eugenia."

"Very well, darling," Annabelle said and stared at her. "What about _Isabelle Marie Henriette_ or _Isabelle Marguerite Caroline _or _Isabelle Marie-Therese Caroline _or _Isabelle Marie Louise_?"

Scarlett shrugged. "I remember something about Queen Isabella from Spain and about Queen Marguerite of France. I don't know details about them. I am ashamed to acknowledge that I know nothing about them. In England I heard a lot about _Princess Caroline_ who lived in Regency England."

"You are correct about Caroline. I will tell you in details about all of these Queens." Annabelle smiled joyfully. "We have _Queen_ _Isabella I of Castile,_ the wife of _King Ferdinand II of Aragon,_who lived in the 15th century, and _Queen Isabella of England,_the wife of _King Edward II of England _and the daughter of _King Philippe IV of France,_who lived in the 14th century_._Then we also have _Marguerite of Provence,_ the consort of _King Louis IX of France_, who lived in the 13th century. Let's not forget about infamous _Marguerite de Valois, Queen of Navarre _who was the wife of _King Henry III of Navarre _and future _King Henri IV of France_ and lived in the 16th also have _Caroline of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel_, at first _Princess of Wales_ and from 1820 _Queen consort of_ _King George IV of the United Kingdom._"

Scarlett's green eyes darkened. "My God! How do you remember them, Annabelle?"

Annabelle laughed merrily. "Scarlett, if you were born in France, you would know such things for sure. Don't compare the Old South and Europe. Europe is very different."

Scarlett's green eyes darkened. "Oh, Annabelle."

Annabelle looked thoughtful. "Oh, Scarlett."

Scarlett looked at her in bewilderment. "What?"

"We forgot about _Caroline Bonaparte_ who as a younger sister of _Napoleon I of France_. Her complete title was _Grand Duchess Consort of Berg and Cleves_ and _Queen Consort of Naples and Sicily_. She lived at the beginning of the 19th century," Annabelle added.

Scarlett nearly whistled. The depths of the green eyes intensified. "Oh, my God," she whispered. "I am simply shocked with your knowledge in the history of monarchs."

Annabelle smiled. "I must thank you my father for my knowledge in history.

Her lips parted. "And what to do with Blanche?"

_"Blanche Elisabeth Marie _or _Blanche Elisabeth Louise _or _Blanche Charlotte Henriette_ or _Blanche Sophie Charlotte_ or _Blanche Marie Therese_ or _Blanche Marie Louise," Annabelle offered._

"Excellent combination of royal names," Scarlett said. "I like _Blanche Charlotte Henriette."_

"I like it too, Scarlett. Such names as Marie or Louise are too simple and too widely used, in my humble opinion," Annabelle replied. "Born in the 12th century, _Blanche of Castile_ was _Queen consort of France_ as the wife of _King Louis VIII_. Then we have _Blanche of Navarre_ who was _Queen consort of France_ as the wife of _King Philippe VI of France_ and lived in the 14th century. There was _Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz_, _Queen consort of the United Kingdom_ as the wife of _King George III_. We also have _ Charlotte of France_, the second wife and only _Queen consort of Louis XI of France_, who lived in the second half of the 15th century." Annabelle paused and cleared her throat.

Scarlett raised her brows expectantly. "What about Henriette?"

Annabelle smiled light-heartedly. "_Henriette Maria of France_ was _Queen consort of England, Scotland, and Ireland_ as the wife of _King Charles I_. She was born at the beginning of the 17th century."

"Oh, Annabelle," Scarlett said warmly. The green eyes flashed with gratitude. "Thank you very much. I will name my daughters _Blanche Charlotte Henriette_ and _Isabelle Marguerite Caroline."_

"Now at least their names won't remind you about their father."

"Annabelle, please don't remind about him," Scarlett protested.

"I didn't try to upset you," Annabelle looked at Scarlett apologetically. "I am sorry if I did."

"I am fine, darling," Scarlett returned a smile. Her eyes sparkling as a flame of love for her newborn daughters was flaming up in her heart. "I want to forget the past."

"I understand. You had escaped from it, but that was not enough," Annabelle admitted.

"It is partially correct. I didn't want to name my daughters after Rhett's mother or sister. He doesn't deserve them."

"I agree that he doesn't. With these names you can at least pretend that you began to forget," a sad smile animated Annabelle's face.

"Who knows, darling... These are French names, and in the society nobody will ask any questions," Scarlett added. "This time no nicknames too, like in Bonnie's case."

"I cannot judge, darling. Now we have two green-eyed elves," Annabelle smiled and laughed.

"As well as one grey-eyed elfin and one blue-eyed elfin," Scarlett added.

"Yes."

"Annabelle, you should better remember this for the future," Scarlett also smiled and laughed with her friend.

Annabelle shut her grey eyes. "I also want to be with my son, Scarlett."

"What is his full name?"

"_René Louis Charles."_

"It sounds good," Scarlett laughed merely.

"Oh, Scarlett," Annabelle paused and laughed gaily, a gleam of joy and satisfaction dancing in her beautiful grey eyes. "If René's father would be here now, he would kill me for this name."

"Why?"

"It is because I combined the names of three kings in one name. René's father would call this pompous. He would never permit to call the boy in such a way and would rather use such rare names as Victurnien, Donatien, Maximilien, Alphonse, Scipion, and so on," Annabelle answered. "I wanted to combine in one name two principles – making the name unique and combining the names of three kings. There was only one King René in the history, which makes the name so particular. He was _René of Anjou_ who was _Duke of Anjou_, _Count of Provence_, _Count of Piedmont_, _Duke of Bar_, _Duke of Lorraine_, and _King of Naples_. René lived in the 15th century. He was known as _René I of Naples_ and _Good King René_." She paused and laughed. "Louis and Charles have always been very popular to name the kings. There are so many kings with these names that I don't want to pronounce them."

"Oh, I understand," Scarlett chuckled.

"Besides, I name my son in accordance with the practice used by the Robillards. We have always loved such names as Louis, Jean, Jacques, Antoine, Armand, Arnaud, Alexandre, Edouard, Henri, Gaspard, Gustave, Felix, Auguste, and some other names," Annabelle added.

"I have already noted this feature."

"It is an old practice for the Robillards to use Louis, Jean, or Jacques among all the names for men. It is not necessary, but it is often done by the parents. This is no any special practice for ladies, apart from quite rare combinations of names that women from the Robillards can have," Annabelle said with a smile. "I named my son _René Louis Charles_ because I wanted to get rid of the memories about René's father."

"I see."

"Scarlett, my son René is alive, but I cannot take him because of the scandal. He is not from my last husband," Annabelle said sorrowfully.

"Darling, you can adopt him, can't you? You never cared for scandals," Scarlett proposed to her friend.

"I don't know. It will be a scandal for the whole Robillard noble house... I will think about it... I promise, Scarlett. Will you ever tell Rhett about them? What have you decided?" Annabelle questioned and put the green-eyed baby in the crib.

"I don't know, Annabelle. Rhett divorced me and I have no news about him now. I suppose he leaves in Charleston with his mother and sister," Scarlett elaborated and kissed her blue-eyed daughter on her forehead. "Moreover, I am sure that his lifestyle is very similar to that one he had before we married - bedding whores and constant drinking."

"And now you will say that you don't care what he is doing. Pray continue in the same manner, Scarlett," Annabelle smiled ironically, knowing that Scarlett loved Rhett.

"No, I won't say this, but I feel humiliated and treated like a loose woman. He broke my pride and self-respect. I also feel disdain to him." Scarlett closed her emerald eyes in her tussle with sorrow and anger at Rhett.

"I know, darling. Don't cry, please. But somehow in the future you will have to tell him," Annabelle said softly.

"Naturally."

"I will always support you and give you advice if you ask me."

"Thank you, my dear. I am happy to be friends with you. Honestly, I want Rhett to be here with us, I mean, our children and me," Scarlett purred in a sing song voice and kissed her daughter, which produced a broad happy smile on her face.

"Wait and see what to do next. Anyway, your children won't be treated like bastards, in contrast to my son René," Annabelle spelled out with apparent guilt in her voice. "I am sick of frantic guilt because René was born as a bastard because I couldn't accept him just in the light of being frightened of a scandal. I am a coward."

"Annabelle, you must adopt him officially. If you aren't getting married, nobody can intervene and change your plans."

"Darling, you need to rest. Perhaps, darling... Perhaps..." Annabelle stumbled with words.

"Annabelle, thank you for being with me here all this time," Scarlett thanked her friend. "I don't know how I would have survived if here were no you and Mathieu."

"Darling, I am always at your disposal," Annabelle let a sincerely merry laugh. "Mathieu is a very good person. And I would say that he loves you or at least adores you."

"Maybe, darling, you are right… I am so sorry that he is so sick," sorrowful words plunged from Scarlett's lips. "Mathieu saved me from complete disgrace…"

"Yes, it is true. In your case there couldn't be any other loophole to escape disgrace if Mathieu didn't marry you. You could have only come back to Rhett."

"By all means I would never do such a thing, you conceited thing!" Scarlett burst out.

"You received a lot of letters and postcards with congratulations, Scarlett. Will you have a look on them? Jean-Baptiste de Robillard is happy for you. Marguerite has already written to us from London. Our English relative the Duke of Aylesbury also congratulated you in the postcard."

"I will have a look on these letters and postcards tomorrow."

In brief, Scarlett decided to call her daughters simply Blanche and Isabelle. Soon after their birth, the birth certificates for Scarlett's daughters were issued on behalf of _Blanche Charlotte Henriette de Harlay de Champvallon de Bréval Butler _and _Isabelle Marguerite Caroline de Harlay de Champvallon de Bréval Butler._

Isabelle became her green-eyed angel, while Blanche had strong resemblance to Bonnie, her blue-eyed angel. They were like a gift from Heaven for Scarlett, and she loved them unconditionally. This love filled her heart with warmth, joy, care, and happiness. Scarlett felt truly happy, despite her sad past and final acknowledgement that Rhett will probably never know about the birth of their twins. Nevertheless, she stayed one part of Rhett in her children's names – the part of their surname was still Butler as it was her prior-to-the-marriage surname. This made it more convenient to claim Blanche and Isabelle as Rhett Butler's legitimate heiresses in the future if the necessity and opportunity of the above arise. Anyway, Scarlett felt composed and in peace because her daughters will be known in the society under the surname of _de Harlay de Champvallon de Bréval -_ Mathieu's surname and the reference to the titled name, leaving Butler only for the purpose of the birth certificates.

Scarlett swallowed hard and told herself to stop memorizing. That's was enough for the day. Besides, she wanted to see her children, her two small precious angels whom she loved the most in her life, more than herself and the life in its each and every sense. She was a little worried about Mathieu's health as he felt very bad in the past months and doctors told her frankly as his wife that his days are numbered. As usual, Scarlett decided to think about it tomorrow.

"God's nightgown! I am really happy! Rhett, you should be here with us. You are a goddamned fool who had thrown out from your life not only me, your wife, but also your own blood children. But I will take my revenge. I still love you, but also hate you with all my heart," Scarlett thought when getting out of the bed and putting her favorite elegant black velvet wrapper she has recently bought in one of Paris boutiques.

Scarlett was very happy and determined to correct her past mistakes when she wasn't a good mother to Bonnie. Now, when she was older and wiser, she took an oath to herself that this time everything would be different. If only Rhett Butler was there with her and their daughters… If only he loved her and shared this happiness with Scarlett...

"One day you, Rhett Butler, will know about your daughters and regret deeply about your past actions. My intuition says to me that you will regret and hate your stupidity. It's entirely your own fault," she concluded and left her luxury bedchamber, coming in the direction of the nursery.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**Utter hell in Charleston and in Atlanta for Rhett Butler**

In the early hours of the chilly morning of October 1874, Rhett Butler was sitting in his study in his mother's house in Charleston and struggled with terrible headache in the aftermath of his last mad drinking party in the local whorehouse. Such lifestyle became quite pastime for him in the last year. He didn't see when his mother _Eleanor Elisabeth Butler_ entered the study room with a breakfast tray for him.

"Rhett, darling, good morning," Eleanor forced a vague smile and glanced at Rhett.

"Good morning, mother. How are you?" Rhett asked with aloofness. He met his mother in a black silk night robe and home slippers, which he managed to put several hours ago after sleepless night. He extracted the cigar from the silver monogrammed case and held it to his nose for a moment. Finally he lit a black cigar.

"I am fine, son. It is the breakfast for you," she said and put the tray at the desk in front of Rhett. She sighed as she noticed at least five cigar butts at the desk where Rhett was sitting. It meant that Rhett was sitting in the same posture silently for several hours, smoking and drinking.

"Thank you very much, mother," Rhett replied politely, not looking at her.

"Rhett, son… You have returned only in the early morning, haven't you?"

"Yes, I have, mother. I feel good, don't worry," he replied coldly.

"Go to sleep after breakfast," Eleanor added with concern. She sighed heavily and shook her head.

"Thank you, mother… I will act exactly in accordance with your recommendation," the words automatically tumbled from his lips. Rhett rose to his feet, stepped aside from the desk and threw his half-smoked cigar into the spittoon. Then he returned to the desk and sank back in his chair. His eyes stared in the emptiness of the room. He turned his head and smiled at Eleanor with sadness.

"I am leaving for the church with Rosemary. See you later, son," she sighed over and over again.

"Have a good day, mother. Goodbye," he responded remotely.

Usually, under the effect of hangovers, Rhett began to remember his own miserable fate he resigned to have since the day when his little princess, his precious Bonnie, his blue-eyed angel, died. Rhett still remembered that day as if the horse accident happened yesterday. He remembered Bonnie's strong desire to jump the bar on her beloved pony, Scarlett's requests to stop their daughter, and his ex-wife's ultimate fainting back into the armchair after Bonnie's unlucky, fatal jump.

"Bonnie, if you fall, don't cry," Rhett said to his daughter just seconds before her death. After these words Rhett could remember only himself lifting Bonnie's lifeless body from the grass, calling for Mammy to urgently get Doctor Meade, and carrying his daughter to her room. Then Melanie's death occurred that opened Scarlett the way to the long-awaited embraces of her beloved wooden-headed lover.

Sipping tea, Rhett remembered Scarlett's professions of love she made on the day when Melanie died. He didn't believe her, thinking that she pretended to love him in order not to lose his money. He couldn't believe as he was very tired of life, devastated, and unable to feel something. During his first weeks in Charleston after he had left Atlanta and Scarlett behind, it was impossible for him even to feel the gentle touch of his mother's hand when she tried to console her eldest son by giving him the comfort with her hands hugging him tightly. He wanted to be entirely alone and drink to dull his pain and forget Scarlett, spending almost all the time in the living room or in the study room.

At that time, the news about the estrangement of the Butlers traveled quickly to Charleston from Atlanta. Gossip and speculation circulated through elegant houses built in classic antebellum style and through charity events, tea parties, crowded bazaars and into the hall of Rhett's own house. In two weeks after Rhett's arrival to Charleston there seemed to be nowhere someone of the Butlers could go without catching the gawking attention of lay audience and scandalmongers who were shocked to see legendary scandalous Rhett Butler again in the city of his youth and who were stricken with the news of his possible divorce. It was a natural scandal, and since Rhett was almost all the time drinking at home, it was his mother Eleanor who endured the whispers behind her back, the low twittering that floated like malicious birdsong as she was walking down the street to the city market or to the church.

Eleanor didn't pay much attention to the gossips and tried to ignore them. She hoped that Rhett and Scarlett would sort the things out. She refused to believe that the divorce was possible and considered that to be just idle talk. She tried to talk to Rhett to understand what happened, but he didn't talk to her frankly and didn't answer her questions. Her numerous attempts were ineffective. One of such conversations, when Eleanor tried to help her poor son, happened on the second month after Rhett had left Atlanta and before his official divorce with Scarlett.

"Mother, please don't try to comfort me. You are wasting your time. Let me drink a little more whisky," Rhett said to Eleanor Butler, his mother.

"Rhett, son, I know how difficult this time is for you, but your drinking is not elixir for all your sores. You need to return to your wife, Scarlett. She is also suffering, poor child," Eleanor tried to encourage Rhett for rational steps.

"No! Don't ever call this name in my presence, mother."

"Son, what happened with you and Scarlett?" Eleanor asked softly, her voice almost velvet.

"I cannot tell you all the truth about what happened with me and Scarlett. Scarlett has been a charlatan for the past time when she proclaimed her love for me. She lied, I know. Before her confessions she made my life miserable. It was so even before Bonnie's death," Rhett said in a drawing tone.

"Rhett, I see you have troubles in your marriage, but you are not yourself now after the tragedy with Bonnie… Please, calm down and think on a cool fresh mind," Eleanor pleaded her son.

"Mother, it is no use. Please, leave me alone now," Rhett nearly screamed in anger at himself.

"Rhett, son, how can I help you?" his mother asked in a gentle voice, but he didn't answer.

"We will see, mother."

"Rhett, please tell me only one thing…" Eleanor began and paused in hesitancy.

"What do you want to say, mother?" He looked up at her with yeasty gaze.

"Do you want to get divorce?"

"Yes, I do." His voice was steady and categorical.

"No, Rhett, you need to talk to her. There was no divorce in Charleston and South Carolina in the past. I don't want to be disgraced."

"Mother, it is me, a scoundrel Butler, who wants to get the divorce, not you or somebody else. One more, one less spot on my ruined reputation – it doesn't matter," he snapped more sharply than he meant to.

"Rhett, maybe you should meet with your wife. Divorce is too much," Eleanor shook her head desperately.

"We don't need to pretend, mother. My marriage is finished."

"Is there something left for Scarlett in your heart?" He didn't answer. He didn't want to talk.

Rhett's face screwed up when he recalled the events on the night before Melanie's funeral. After he left Scarlett in their house on the Peachtree Street, Rhett went to Belle to the Red Horse Salon in the downtown of Atlanta. He spent there one day and left on the night before Melly's funeral without leaving the details of his whereabouts to Belle, but taking with him several bottles of whisky. Belle didn't know what to do and how to find Rhett as she was afraid that he could do something bad with himself. On that night Rhett was drinking near Bonnie's grave at Oakland Cemetery. He was talking to his deceased daughter as if she was alive. He recalled how he put the bouquet of chrysanthemums for his precious daughter on her small grave and then continued drinking. Finally, he was so drunk that he passed out on the ground near his daughter's grave after he had emptied around three bottles of whisky.

Eventually, Rhett's immobilized, intoxicated body was collected from the cemetery by Belle Watling and the gatekeeper of her establishment. Belle was searching for him and, understanding all the pain Rhett felt, she realized that he should have visited Bonnie's grave. Belle and the gatekeeper of the saloon delivered Rhett's body back to the Red Horse Salon. Having spent at Belle's establishment the rest of the night and drinking himself to stupor till the afternoon after he had awoken, Rhett Butler forgot everything. His will and brain were so paralyzed in alcohol haze that he even was unable to attend Melanie's funeral after his night adventure at Atlanta cemetery. It was Belle who ordered the flower basket of red roses for Melanie and filled the farewell postcard signing it by Rhett's name.

In that morning, almost a year after the day he left Scarlett in Atlanta, Rhett suffered from hangover as usual. Only now his mind started to drift to reality of his miserable life. His lifestyle was very simple and unconventional for Charleston gentleman: drinking to death, non-stop gambling, and bedding as many whores as possible in Charleston or anywhere he traveled. Now he had one specific requirement for the whores he bedded - they had to be everything except for having green eyes and raven hair. He plunged himself into the way of slow dying by continuing his pre-war life of a confirmed free bachelor against his will, but due to the necessity, as he believed, to forget his past life with Scarlett and their marriage. It was a way of the crumpled moral and physical decadence, destroying Rhett inside and bringing him one step closer to his ultimate purpose – deliverance of heartache and all ache accumulated in his dark and hopeless soul.

Once when Rhett was in New Orleans visiting his and Belle's son as usual, he spent the night in the familiar old brothel when he bedded a raven-hair green-eyed pretty Creole girl, initially with a pleasure she gave to his body, but finally with disdain and pain upon realization of the color of her hair. He recalled beating that whore in his attempt to punish Scarlett for her sins and for his ruined life. Rhett was even arrested for several days, and his lawyer from Charleston had to come to New Orleans to help his client. To elude the public scandal, Rhett had to pay a tidy amount of money to that whore as a compensation for the physical and moral damage.

Absorbed in his memories, Rhett sipped some green tea his mother Eleanor had brought for him. He remembered Scarlett in the same room around a year ago when she came to him after Melanie's death to beg for forgiveness and again confessed that she loved him and only him. He didn't believe her at that minute, tormenting for both of them.

"I love you, Rhett. I love you wholeheartedly, my darling. Rhett, please believe me."

"I cannot believe you, my pet. It is too late. What was broken is broken." It was a sharp verdict. Finality was ringing in his voice. Now he was standing to her half face, and his profile reminded a large hawk.

"God's nightgown!" Scarlett cried out. "Rhett, it is never too late!" She raised her voice to a higher octave. "It is never too late!"

"No, Scarlett. You are misguided as a small child crying for the moon that he cannot have. It is too late as I said in Atlanta," Rhett objected. He took a cigar from his monogrammed silver case and lit it.

"I was a fool who chased for Ashley for ages, but I realized that I never loved him in reality. You are the only man whom I love and will never stop loving," Scarlett declared loudly. She stepped forward, closer to him, and put her right hand on his cheek.

Rhett pushed her away with negligence. "Scarlett, please stop making the spectacle of yourself, my pet."

"Why are you so cruel?"

"You are getting what you had deserved, my pet."

"Maybe…" she said humbly.

Rhett poured another glass of whisky. He was close to be done with the second bottle in that evening. He threw half-smoked cigar on the floor, and she saw how the ember of his cigar glowed in the dim light of the room. Rhett's mind was befogged by alcohol.

"I told you that I no longer love you. My love has worn out, like yours for Ashley had," Rhett said.

"Rhett, why don't you understand? I am not making a spectacle of myself. It is truth that I love you."

"I don't believe you. Such strong love, which you had and, obviously, have for wooden-headed Ashley Wilkes, cannot die in one day as a result of your shock on the back of Melanie's death."

Scarlett interrupted him. "I guess my love for Ashley died a long time ago, but I didn't know it. I was a fool not to analyze my feelings and to postpone everything for tomorrow."

He tossed his head. "It doesn't matter know."

"Damn you, Rhett Butler! Listen to me!" she thundered. "It matters! I haven't even thought of Ashley as my love for a long time, at least since his birthday party when you left me in the morning after that passionate night and went to London."

Rhett laughed aloud and outrageously interlaced his fingers. "Go to Ashley's bed, my dear pet," he smirked. He poured another glass of whisky, then sloshed it at one gulp.

"I love you, not Ashley! I never loved him, like I love you. I used him to stay a sixteen-year-old girl forever. Let me love you and show this to you."

"Good Heavens! Scarlett, what a hypocrite you are. Ashley Wilkes is waiting for you. Come to him to his bed and marry him, my pet."

"I am not a hypocrite! I don't love and need Ashley Wilkes. You told me that I am a poor liar. What should I do to make you believe me, my darling?" Scarlett moaned in despair, being almost on the verge of an outburst of tears.

"You sold me your body when we had married. In exchange I gave you my money?" Rhett jeered, his eyes snapping fire. He wanted to insult her. "Are you happy with my ill-gotten gains, Scarlett?"

"Rhett, you are incorrigible! I needed your money after all that hunger during the war, but I had grown to miss you and love you."

"Really?" he scoffed.

"You must know how I waited and missed you when you went away with Bonnie to London."

"Shut up!" Rhett shouted. "Don't remind me about Bonnie! I am dead inside! I killed Bonnie! I killed our child on the stairs. I am a murderer. I don't care whether you missed me and waited for me. It is in the past! Past, Scarlett! I don't want to live in the past."

Her face turned ghostly pale, her voice was cracking. "I wanted the child we lost. Rhett, I fell down the stairs but it was not entirely your fault, rather our mutual fault. We said dreadful things to each other."

"I am a murderer! You cannot persuade me that it isn't so and that you really love me," Rhett said in anger at himself. As he looked at her, he started to feel warmth in his body. He couldn't look into her emerald eyes glittering in swelling desire. He couldn't feel that intoxicating thrill of her body.

Scarlett looked straight into his bloodshot eyes. "I loved Bonnie very much. I am sorry for blaming you for her death. I was a fool. I wasn't thinking what I had said."

"Please, stop pretending."

"I am not pretending!" she shot back.

"What do you want? Money, new house, new dresses…? How much money?" he screamed. "I will give you a divorce settlement. I don't need you. Get out of this room and house."

"I don't need your money and divorce. I need you. I won't leave this house unless you believe me, Rhett."

His voice was murderous. "You will leave. Otherwise you will suffer."

She cast a quick glance around the room, looking at the empty decanter on the table. She inhaled. "I am your wife and I have a right to be here with you." Her voice was steady and confident.

Rhett shook his head. "No! No!"

"So far I am your wife."

His lips curved as though in a quirk. "I will divorce you. I will get rid of you. I swear," he said with a comical assurance.

Scarlett lifted her chin. "So far I am your wife," she repeated.

"Stop pretending! You don't love me! What do you want, Scarlett?" he roared.

"I don't pretend, Rhett. Please, believe me!"

"No!" he shouted.

"I know you love me, Rhett. You have to love me," she whispered passionately.

"No!" he echoed.

She drew a deep breath. "I do love you, Rhett. I don't know how to convince you. I am almost dead after these tragedies had happened. I don't want to lose you."

Rhett drew a heavy deep breath and dropped his head to his chest. "I am also dead! You ruined me and everything in my life, my pet." Now Rhett was in anger at himself because he started to feel ever-rising tension of desire in his body. His blood was boiling.

"I lost so many people and I have only you," Scarlett said numbly. "I love you. I refuse to lose you."

Rhett lifted his eyes at her. "I am dead." He stepped forward to her.

"No, you are not," Scarlett countered him.

"You are dead for me. You died for me together with Bonnie, my pet," he cried out.

Suddenly, Rhett leaned forward and pushed Scarlett into the wall. Pressing her trembling body to his chest, he glanced into her emerald cat-like eyes, sending him such sincere, amorous look. He saw and realized the frankness and candor of her words, but only for a moment. In one moment, the thought of taking her into his arms and consoling her, kissing every inch of her beautiful face, and wiping her tears popped into his head, but he immediately pushed it far away. He averted his gaze to escape her green eyes.

Scarlett's breathing was erratic. "I love you. I want you. I remember that night. I was so happy at that magic night on the day of Ashley's birthday. I was on the moon," Scarlett confessed. "And then you left. I was so unhappy after that abandonment."

"What is it you are supposed to do?" he asked.

"Kiss you. Kiss you and make it better."

"No." His voice rang hoarse. "I don't want that."

Scarlett was determined. For her there was no way back. "I want you to kiss me and make it worse." She smiled with a vague smile.

A little gasp escaped her. Rhett touched his hand to the point of her chin and tilted her face up to his. Her skin was warm against his fingers. She flushed under his touch. Scarlett looked utterly dazzled. She desired him and only him, and he knew it. That look on her face was dangerous, as if he had hung the stars for her. Her body still pressed to the wall, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him deeply in his lips.

"Scarlett, you and I are insane," Rhett muttered under his breath.

As predicted, it made everything worse for him. Her kiss heightened the hunger for her that he had tried to ignore for a long time. She came to life under the kiss. That sparked a fierce, possessive desire. He wanted her. That want had the strength of years of loneliness behind it.

"You love me! You want me," Scarlett murmured. She deepened the kiss and then suddenly broke it. She stared into his black eyes, his face dark from desire. "You love me! I see your feelings for me in your eyes."

"No, I don't love you," Rhett shook his spinning head. His tone didn't convince even himself in the trueness of his words.

"You love me, Rhett," she repeated.

"No, Scarlett. I may desire you, but I don't love you." Again, his tone wasn't convincing.

"Rhett, darling, kiss me. Let me love you," Scarlett half pleaded, half sighed.

Scarlett's green eyes were fixed on him, eyes full of love and worship for her husband. She took one of his large tanned hands between her tiny two and held it gently. She narrowed her eyes blazing like emeralds and looked into his coal eyes. Her eyes were dancing with a flame of passion along her face, neck, and bosom, visible up to the low neckline of her dress. Scarlett kissed his palm and put it on her right cheek.

Rhett couldn't help himself. He kissed her. He kissed her hard, his fingers tracing her cheeks. There had been sadness in her green eyes, but as he kissed her, it was swept away in the tumultuous passion. His hand painted a line down her spine, inch by inch. He wanted her. Each membrane of his body spoke of his desire to have her naked in his arms. He wanted her. He needed her. He wanted her badly. His need for her was urgent. He wanted her with a sheer animal intensity that would not be gainsaid. Scarlett's body was molding to his, her lips latching on to his lips. She was passionately kissing him back. Her hands were running up his arms to his shoulders. He enfolded her in a tight passionate embrace.

"Rhett… Oh Rhett…" Scarlett moaned.

Scarlett was drifting somewhere until she was close enough to explode from pleasure. Close enough for him to see the jade green of her eyes as her eyes had changed the color from usual green to jade green in passion, she whispered: "Rhett, I love you! I love only you…" Tears glittering in her eyes, she kissed him in his lips, and he responded to her kiss, deepening it.

As his lips left hers, Rhett looked in her beautiful eyes, so full of passion. "Scarlett…" he murmured. His eyes slid shut.

She kissed him shortly. "I do love you, Rhett, and I want to be by your side."

Rhett blinked and kissed her again. The room was dismally silent except for the slight sound of their shallow breathing, far away from him in another place. Did she indeed want to be beside him? Apprehension seized him. Was that the truth? Was it real? Was he going to have to let her go away from him again? No, it just couldn't be so, Rhett mused. But passion superseded all the unnecessary, secondary thoughts. Suddenly the air in the room was thin and stale. Rhett's lungs struggled for his next breath as his need for her strengthened. He had never wanted her as much as he wanted her at that moment. In the candlelight, Rhett studied Scarlett's profile, her slim, delicate silhouette as deeply etched on his heart as a precious cameo. At that moment it was so.

Enraptured by that evidence of her true affection and by her strong desire for him, in his heightened ardor, Rhett couldn't help himself any longer. He took her in his hands and carried her upstairs to his bedroom. Putting her on his large bed, he started to remove his shirt, but the initiative to undress him was overtaken by Scarlett. She unbuttoned his shirt and began to undo his trousers, although finally she wasn't very successful in that. Helping Scarlett to remove his trousers and his undergarments, in the end Rhett stripped her off her magenta rose velvet gown. Then he removed her corset, her petticoat, her drawers, and her chemise.

Rhett was making love to Scarlett over and over again throughout that dark night. He took her three times in his raw, wild passion, and each time she responded to his endearments willingly, obediently, and ardently. It had never been so for them before. Rhett was enjoying her and was giving her pleasure, as well as taking his pleasure from her splendid body, wrapped with his limbs in a dance of passion and love. That night with Scarlett was the most magnificent one in Rhett's life when he felt her total submission to his will and desires, her undying love and burning, vehement passion, which were driving him crazy and tearing his body apart into small pieces. He recalled that she forgot all the borders of shame and shyness on that night, joining him in the appeasement of their amorous thirst and hunger after a long physical and emotional starvation.

Scarlett felt alive and whole and at peace. It was as though her peace was in Rhett's embrace. The heat from his body appeased her, and it had nothing to do with their sexual hunger for each other. It was as though a forging of their broken hearts into one thriving, beating whole. At least, Scarlett perceived their night so. However, Rhett had probably had other fought.

Some tears sprang into her green eyes. "I love you, Rhett," she whispered. But Rhett didn't answer, although he continued making love to her.

It was hard for Rhett not to tell Scarlett about his love for her. He didn't tell her that he had loved her. Even after several years had passed, Rhett still didn't know how he had managed to refrain from any love confessions on that night. He loved her and enjoyed the night of passion, but he was too afraid to tell her in order not to be trapped in her cobweb and to be cornered as a lovesick fool. He was too frightened of himself, and that fear didn't allow him to tell her the truth.

When Rhett woke up at around half past six in the morning in his bedroom, he helplessly stared in shock at Scarlett, peacefully sleeping in his embrace. She was his Scarlett, and she smiled in her sleep. She was his passionate Scarlett like never before, all her restraints fallen away, all her beauty bare and breathtaking and flourishing in his arms. Never Rhett will forget the way she had arched her back and cried out her ecstasy during that night. Never he will forget the way she had curled her body into his, afterward, entangling their fingers, while her breathing drifted off into regularity. Rhett will never forget her happy smile as she drifted into peaceful sleep.

As his mind replayed the events of the last evening and the night, the renegade panicked. He was afraid that Scarlett would perceive that night as their final reconciliation and as a sign of forgiveness, and he desperately wanted to avoid that. He pulled away from her before it could become anything else. Then he climbed out of the bed. His movements were quit and noiseless. He was glad that she didn't awake. He turned around to look at her for the last time and noticed that she was smiling in her sleep, making his heart cower from doubt whether he intended to act correctly and leave her again.

"What did I do? I don't love her. No, I don't love her. I must leave immediately. I must make her sign the divorce papers," Rhett mused, trying to run away from his desires and conscience. "Otherwise she will think that we reconciled. I must leave immediately."

Caused by the inner fears to surrender to Scarlett's love and be captured by her charms, his emotional tumult didn't give him an opportunity to think rationally about any possible consequences of their lovemaking and the outcome of the night. Rhett wrote for Scarlett a cruel farewell letter. He signed the divorce papers and put them on the bedside table together with the letter. The he left Charleston for New Orleans, where the case with the raven-haired whore, whom Rhett had beaten, happened.

In his letter Rhett tried to be very cruel and firm in order to make Scarlett believe that he hadn't loved her and that he hadn't given a damn as he had said upon leaving her in Atlanta. In reality, he simply decided to run away from her and her love. He wanted to forget, being afraid of her newly discovered love and in fact not believing that Scarlett had had a genuine feeling for him. No, Rhett didn't believe her and was convinced that she had only a simple infatuation with him, like that she had for Ashley. He didn't want to be ruined by the green-eyed vixen again.

Aiming at ripping out of his heart his feelings for Scarlett and his memories, Rhett decided to get official divorce as early as it was possible. To achieve the objective, he bribed the governor's administration in South Carolina in order to speed up the consideration of his case. The fact that Scarlett had left him and had also left the country helped him to get divorce quite quickly.

When Rhett finally received a note from his lawyer Mr Devillers in Charleston that the divorce had been finalized and that the official divorce decree had been issued, Rhett came to Atlanta. He planned to give that divorce decree to Henry Hamilton by himself with the only purpose to make Scarlett know about the divorce as early as possible. Rhett's meeting with Henry occurred in the beginning of March 1875. Rhett desperately wanted to watch Scarlett's reaction to the divorce. Even now, sitting in the study room in Charleston, Rhett could recall his conversation with Henry Hamilton by heart.

"Henry, the official divorce was granted," Rhett said confidently in a well-modulated voice. "I decided to deliver you the official divorce decree by myself."

"I have a copy of it," Henry replied shortly. "I received this abhorrent document some time ago."

"Very well."

"I sent it to Scarlett through her new lawyer in Savannah. She should have already received it by now."

"I am glad to hear it, Henry. I am happy that we are done with the official stage of divorce. Does she have a lawyer in Savannah? I have never heard about it before," Rhett threw over his shoulder carelessly and looked at Henry Hamilton with intensity.

"Rhett, Scarlett's deals are out of your business. Moreover, in the future I would like to ask you to abstain from any mutual deals with me or any of my business associates. I don't want any cooperation with you. You know that I don't approve divorces," Henry Hamilton spelled out aloud in his sonorous, confident voice.

"I don't plan to have any mutual deals, but anyway, I think that you are exaggerating, Henry," Rhett responded in his usual devil-may-care manner.

"Rhett, I think that your actions were incorrect and unfair relative to Scarlett who needed your help and support a lot after all these tragedies - Bonnie and Melanie's deaths," the old lawyer simply stated, continuing to look at Rhett's indifferent face.

"I didn't ask your opinion on the issue or any kind of estimation of me and my actions," Rhett parried, lighting his cigarillo and staring with a hard gaze at Henry's thoughtful face. "What happened in my marriage to Scarlett and the reasons for divorce are strictly private between me and Scarlett. It is no concern of yours, Henry Hamilton."

"Rhett, don't worry. I am not interfering in your relations with Scarlett," Henry paused and sighed heavily. His voice went to a sort of sonorous baritone as he resumed talking. "In fact, your relations are over, but not only due to divorce." Henry nodded and seemed relieved.

"What do you mean, Henry?"

"You will never guess."

"What do you know about Scarlett?" Rhett inquired with curiosity in an unconcerned voice, his eyes growing misty.

"I have just received a telegram from Scarlett," Henry Hamilton continued and paused again. He was half confused, half frightened of Rhett's reaction to the news. "Now she is in London."

"I didn't know that she had gone to Europe."

"Furthermore, Scarlett is moving to Paris very soon, Rhett."

"What is going on?"

"Scarlett has recently got married to another man in London. It seems to me that it happened immediately after she had received the official divorce decree."

"What did you say?" Rhett shook his head in disbelief.

"Scarlett has got married to another man after the divorce," Henry Hamilton repeated.

"Married again?" Rhett questioned again. He was stunned; his face lost its nonchalant expression for a while. He clenched his teeth, and the muscles of his face tensed up.

"She got married right after she had received the divorce notification," Henry slowly said, as though specifically for Rhett. His right hand opened one of the drawers of his desk. He extracted Scarlett's last letter she wrote to him from London. Henry's watchful gaze fixed on to Rhett who was shocked, silent, and frozen. He was strongly affected by the announcement, and his face lost his mask of indifference and baldness. Henry noticed that, and he even had some pleasure that Rhett felt abashed with the news. "Rhett, it is her choice. Scarlett has a right for happiness, especially after what you made her pass through alone."

"Who is her new husband?" Rhett asked.

"It is a nobleman from France. His name is _Mathieu Paul Louis de Harlay de Champvallon_, _13th Marquis de Bréval._" Henry read Mathieu's name in Scarlett's telegram. Then he folded the sheet of paper and put back into the drawer. He looked attentively at Rhett. "Scarlett is now in London and is in the process of relocation to Paris," Henry said, and his eyes lighted up at the sight of changes in Rhett's face.

"To Paris…" Rhett said half dreamily, with detachment.

Henry Hamilton nodded. "Yes, in Paris."

Rhett stared at Henry with a hard gaze. He was going to mock, but it proved to be awkward at that minute."Thank you for all your help. Send Scarlett my warm regards, condolences to her new husband, and my blessing for successful childbirth," Rhett finished the conversation in the coldest voice possible, putting as much indifference in his tone as he could at that very sad moment.

"Goodbye, Mr Butler," Henry Hamilton said tartly and laughed sadly. He beamed with sad delight.

"It is utter hell for me both in Charleston and in Atlanta," Rhett thought as he left Henry Hamilton's office.

After the conversation, Rhett left Henry Hamilton's office and went to Belle's brothel to the downtown of Atlanta, the town he hated from the bottom of his dead heart. He was walking down the street quickly and not looking around. Rhett encountered Doctor Meade, Mrs Elsing, and Mrs Merriweather, but he didn't turn around to greet them. He knew that there had already been enough malicious gossip concerning himself and Scarlett in the town. In the past he got accustomed to the way people on the street glared at him with contempt and with reprehension, but he didn't care for those things and for those dreadful gossips about him.

Today his only purpose was to drink himself to numbness in his sorrow for Scarlett's remarriage. Belle met Rhett with open arms. He needed Belle's community today. As Rhett entered Belle's suite, he collapsed on her large bed and stretched his arms over his head. He shut his eyes. He was keeping silent. Belle was the first to break the awkward pause.

She stared at him in perplexity. She was seating in her armchair. "I didn't expect you tonight. What happened, Rhett? You look as though you were not yourself," she said anxiously.

"Belle, I need a drink." Rhett drew a deep breath. He didn't chance his pose on the bed. "I need a drink."

"What happened?" she repeated.

Rhett laughed aloud, harshly and bitterly. Then he lifted his masculine body from the bed and lurched to his feet. He came to the desk near the window and shrank into the chair. "Not now, Belle. I cannot talk about it now. Let's do it tomorrow," he muttered under his breath. "I need a drink."

Belle rose to her feet and stepped forward to Rhett. "Then take it and drink your sorrow to stupor, as on the night of Melanie Wilkes' funeral. Please, don't go to Oakland cemetery this time. I won't follow you," she replied sharply. Belle sighed and handed a full glass of whisky to Rhett.

"Belle, stop kidding me. Thank you for the drink," he answered. Then he abruptly sloshed the whole glass. He extracted a cigar from a cigar case and lit it.

Belle put the bottle of whisky at the desk. Then she returned to her armchair. Rhett reached the bottle and poured out a new glass to suck down another drink. Then, in two gulps, he finished the drink. A few moments later he gazed with satisfaction at the third full glass of whisky and stumbled back to his chair. However, today whisky had no fire in it for him. His thoughts passed sluggishly, and it looked like a natural degradation of his brain. Desperation and wrath began to creep through his veins and heart. Rhett couldn't face the night, couldn't face his thoughts without something to take the sting away. He needed anything to blot out the painful reality and hoped for whisky to help him.

Rhett whistled and threw a half smoked cigar on the floor and trampled it down. "What a white livered, little bitch Scarlett is," he snarled.

"I don't know what she did to you now. All I know is that you think that your hostility is the only way to keep yourself away from her, but it is not so," a verdict escaped Belle's lips. "It is a fallacy."

* * *

_How do you like Rhett's first year after the divorce with Scarlett? I think Rhett deserved that hell after what he had done._

_Reviews are highly appreciated. Thank you very much._


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

**Scarlett's farewell letter and Eleanor Butler's idea**

Rhett spent the whole week at Belle's and was constantly intoxicated by the huge amount of alcohol. However, alcohol didn't help him forget Scarlett. During this week he didn't tell to Belle what had distressed him so much. He bedded several whores during this week and spent completely crazy night with them, but each time he saw naked Scarlett's on the bed. He sank into deeper despair and madness each time when he imagined how another man was touching Scarlett's body, kissing her, and making love to her. He was deeply hurt by the news of her marriage to an unknown French nobleman and was jealous of Scarlett's new husband. He felt nausea low in his throat from any single thought that another man could make love to his former wife. He hated idea of her having children with another man, even her new husband, although he didn't want more children either with her or with any other woman, as he didn't want to risk his heart again after Bonnie's death, as Rhett explained that desire to himself. Rhett was also jealous of the fact that Scarlett got married to a man who was not only rich, but also had noble roots. Rhett had always had too high self-esteem and now his ego was wounded, although he was afraid of acknowledging that fact to himself. He was dismayed and felt betrayed, and he continued running away from himself and from recognizing these feelings.

Rhett had intimacy with Belle several times, but each time he didn't receive any pleasure. Belle also didn't find their encounters pleasurable, which was a rather rare case for Belle who loved Rhett wholeheartedly. Her love for Rhett was too painful for her as she knew that she would never be loved by her beloved man in return. It was a tragic, unrequited love for Belle. However, even when Rhett was drunk and was searching for consolation, Belle had always accepted Rhett's advances and answered to his endearments, although she didn't think that he had being doing the right thing at that moment. During the whole week Rhett looked too heartbroken and too wounded. Belle hoped that their amorous escapades would appease Rhett and would take his hot anger away, but it was a mistake. As a result, soon Belle rejected the idea of sharing the bed with Rhett on the third day of Rhett's visit of her establishment.

During the whole week Belle was observing how Rhett was destroying himself. She understood that something serious had happened, but he was keeping silent and ignored her questions and her pleas to stop drinking. In the end of the week, Belle made another attempt to talk to Rhett again. This time she was going to get an answer from him. Rhett was sitting on the chair, a half empty bottle of whisky at the table. A glass of whisky was in his right hand. He sloshed it in one large gulp. Then he set the glass down firmly beside the whisky bottle. He stared ahead in the emptiness of the room.

Belle approached him. She kissed him on his cheek. "You have been drinking throughout the whole week, Rhett. I am sorry, but you look terrible."

Rhett grimaced. "Thank you for the compliment, Belle," he mumbled.

"What happened? Tell me as your old friend and your confident," she said.

"I am a divorced man now, Belle," Rhett announced with the unwelcome tightening in his throat. He threw a sharp eye at her as if she was something on the battlefield to be conquered and demolished.

Belle felt as a lump formed in her throat. She was stunned for a second. Then a sarcastic smile hovered over her lips. "Congratulations, Rhett!" Belle scoffed. She met his eyes, and everything else slipped away for Belle just for one instance. Rhett was here, a divorced man, but he will never belong to her. She shrugged and asked: "Now I see what caused your frustration. Do you feel a relief after what you have done?"

"Belle, I was at Henry Hamilton's office a week ago." He rose to his feet and started to pace the room like a caged animal.

"What did she do this time, Rhett?" Belle's voice revealed curiosity. "You are divorced, Rhett. Forget her, although I doubt it is possible."

"Scarlett has recently got married to a noble French gentleman in London," Rhett nearly screamed. "He is said to be a very noble and rich man."

Belle's eyes grew wide in amazement."What did you say?" She pressed her fingertips to her temples which had begun to throb painfully.

"Scarlett got married to French nobleman, and she did this immediately after the divorce, Belle."

She shook her head in disbelief. A thrill of abashment rushed through her. "Who told you about that? It should be an error or disinformation."

Rhett shook his head in negative response. "There is no mistake. She is a French Marquise now, although in the new _Third Republic of France_ titles are only for fashion in the arrogant high society." Rhett's voice was shaking in irritation and anger.

"Did Henry Hamilton tell you the news?"

"Yes, he did." Rhett stopped near the window and stared outside on the street.

"Rhett, I don't know what to say. There should be a certain reason for it. It is very strange."

"Everything is evident, Belle."

Belle was beating her bottom lip. "Evident?"

"Scarlett never loved me and got married to that man because she needed his money and his status as he is a nobleman. She didn't accept my divorce settlement. This man should have made a good proposal to her in terms of money and, certainly, status," Rhett said tartly and clenched his teeth. "What a hypocrite Scarlett is! What an actress!"

Belle drew a deep breath. "It looks rather odd, Rhett." She sighed. "Odd enough," she repeated.

Rhett grinned at her. "It doesn't look odd, Rhett. It is just Scarlett's desire to have a new rich husband. There is nothing more behind that."

"There is something else beneath Scarlett's marriage, but not what you suppose."

His black eyes turned even darker if that was possible. "How do you know, Belle?"

"Just female instinct, darling," she elucidated briefly. "When did you see Scarlett the last time?"

"In Charleston when she came to me and I threw her out of the house," Rhett responded and shook his head. He poured another glass of whisky. "I don't know why she came."

"Rhett, you shouldn't have been so rude with Scarlett when she came to your house in Charleston."

Rhett contradicted her statement. "She deserved such treatment from me because she used all my love and gave nothing in return."

"No, it isn't truth. At least she gave to you a child. Besides, she is a woman and your wife. Sorry, she was your wife."

Rhett finished the glass of whisky and put it down. "It seems to me that Scarlett is driven only by money, status, and other money-measurable values. She will make this poor man's life miserable. I mean her new husband. What a desperate man that French nobleman is to marry Scarlett! I daresay I would love to meet him to look at her new victim. What a poor man Scarlett's new husband is!"

Belle smiled tauntingly at him and darted her eyes away. "Rhett, you are jealous of her new husband."

Rhett looked up at Belle, searching for the truth in the timeworn lines of Belle's face, but failed to find it. "No, I am not. I am furious because she proved that she lied to me about her love. I don't understand how a woman could be so hypocritical," Rhett objected. His voice sounded dead even to his own ears.

Belle arched her brows. "You don't know all the details about this wedding. And what about her love for Ashley Wilkes?"

Rhett's heart thudded with a strange irregular beat. "Most likely, she loves him, but he cannot give her the money and status. So she decided to leave the States for France and use the new opportunity."

"No, Belle, I am through with her. Apparently, she didn't love Ashley as much as she claimed during the times of our damned marriage." Rhett settled in the red velvet armchair. He extracted a cigar case from the pocket of his elegant dark blue jacket and lit it.

"If she didn't love Ashley Wilkes, then she loved you, Rhett," Belle declared in a steady voice.

"If she ever loved me, she would never remarry so soon," he countered, exhaling smoke from a black cigar. Then he pouted another glass, the third in the evening.

"What should Scarlett do, Rhett? Should she sob hysterically on the front steps of your house in Charleston in order to attract your attention?" Belle answered in irritation. She looked at Rhett with intensity and added: "You forced her to leave the house when she came to you. You didn't listen to her. You made love to her and ran away next morning. You pushed her away, and now you are in despair. Chickens come home to roost, Rhett."

"Belle, please stop it," he said aloud to his whisky glass.

"Oh, Rhett," Belle said gently. "You will never be free from Scarlett."

Rhett pulled out one of the drawers of his desk. He took and unfolded a sheet of paper. It was Scarlett's farewell letter, which she sent to him from Savannah. Why did Scarlett send it from Savannah? What did she do in Savannah before the departure from the United States? Perhaps, Scarlett tried to establish a contact with her grandfather Pierre Robillard. Perhaps, she visited her Aunts Eulalie and Pauline who spent some time in Savannah with Pierre, although they permanently resided in Charleston. Rhett allowed himself to read her farewell letter from time to time, especially in the moments of hangovers when feeling of misery around him was especially acute.

Rhett's hands were trembling. He held the letter closer to his chest. He stood for a moment pressing the sheet of paper to his chest more and more tightly as a strange sense of longing overcame him. He didn't know what was happening in his heart – he was so lost. A combination of a wistful yearning and a wild hatred surged through his body. Finally, he unfolded the letter and started reading.

_Dear Mr Butler,_

_I am writing to you to let you know that I have eventually realized that you no longer need me. I have realized that you don't love me. Our last meeting in Charleston convinced me in that._

_I just want to open your eyes to the truth, painful for your ego, Rhett, but nevertheless truth. My darling, I am not the only person responsible for the failure of our marriage. You never told me that you loved me unconditionally and only teased me, underscoring on each occasion that our marriage is atypical and typifies no more than a business deal. You were teasing and mocking me, making laugh of me and enjoying my emotional outbursts._

_How do you think I could grow up to open to you my heart when you just teased and mocked me? I didn't like the way you had always treated me. Had you tried to talk to me in a civil manner on a serious note and in a serious, gentle and understanding tone? I can count such cases during the days of our marriage. Their number is very limited. You are older than I am, whom you married me when I was a very young and not very wise, and you failed to guide me with all your much-vaunted experience and your talents. Instead, you guided me that reputation is nothing to care for and that it is something unnecessary._

_You pushed me away to forget about my own reputation in Atlanta. You encouraged me to disregard the society rules. Later, when Bonnie was born, you worsened my reputation by restoring your reputation and further disgracing mine. You are a good husband, without any exaggeration._

_You also failed when I was finally ready to open my heart to you after Ashley's birthday night. What did you do? You simply ran away and took my child from me, the child who could spend with me, her mother, more time before her death. I loved her, I loved Bonnie. Yes, loved, but in my own manner. I know that I could be a better mother to her, but I failed on this occasion, partly due to your fault._

_I know that you worshipped Bonnie and spent the whole time with her to give her all the love I neglected, as you mentioned. In the meantime, has it ever popped in your head that if you had spent with me at least half of the time you spent with Bonnie, I would have realized more quickly that I loved you and not Ashley? You didn't give a chance to me to spend more time with Bonnie. In fact, you used our daughter to punish me for not loving you by limiting the time I spent with my daughter and by trying to make her love you more than she loved me, her mother._

_You constantly ran away from all personal problems. You are a coward, Rhett Butler. I am also starting to lose my respect for you as I no longer consider you to be a brave, wise man. You don't see your mistakes. You are making other people guilty for your own mistakes, and you punish other people, but not yourself. You are always right in your own opinion. You such a great man! You are too arrogant and self-assured to accept the reality that you can also make mistakes._

_I still love you, not your money or your status, but you, love in an unrequited way and unconditionally. Live in peace, my darling, you punished me by imposing on me that unrequited love, as it had been your case throughout long years before and during our marriage._

_I am asking you to forgive me for the cruel words I said to you when Bonnie died. I know that it was not your fault, just fate and tragic accident. She would have jumped anyway, being as headstrong and stubborn as we both are. Bonnie was the best of both of us. Heaven be peace to her. I love her and miss her, like I am longing for kind and loving Rhett who is dead, as I have realized. I also don't blame you on my fall from the stairs as it was our mutual fault and the result of our short temper – it was fate._

_Rhett, I am granting to you the divorce which you want to get so desperately. I have already signed the divorce papers. You should have discovered them on the bed-sight table where I stayed them in the envelope._

_I am also giving you back your money that you transferred to my account through Henry Hamilton. I don't need your ill-gotten gains as you called your own wealth to tease me, but in fact teasing yourself. Gamble on your great fortune, loose it, give it to Belle Watling or to other mistresses of yours - I don't give a damn. Henry Hamilton was instructed to transfer the money back to your account._

_One day you would probably realize that you lost your chance for happiness and that you wasted your life on whores. Perhaps, you would even remember me, but it might be too late. In any case, I will have somebody who will love me unconditionally, somebody whose love will be pure and sincere, not your tormenting, artificial love._

_I wish you happiness in your new life._

_Scarlett_

The letter started as "Mr Butler," officially and dryly, not darling or dear. She addressed to him only as Mrs Butler. At the thought of this Rhett's fists clenched and unclenched. He sighed and with an effort re-read the whole letter, line by line.

Rhett flipped the letter back in the drawer of his desk and sipped. Now, almost a year after he learnt about Scarlett's new marriage, he tried to convince himself over and over again that she got married to another man so quickly after the divorce because she had never truly loved him. He was absolutely right that all her confessions of love for him were simple fairy tales of a little hypocritical girl who was fooling him and using him only for her own advantages from the day he met her in Twelve Oaks.

He re-read the second paragraph of the letter: "_You never told me that you loved me unconditionally and only teased me…_" Rhett recognized to himself that he was trapped in his own cobweb because he didn't tell Scarlett that he loved her in order to protect himself from her. He admitted that it was possible that if he had done it before, Scarlett could have realized earlier that she didn't love wooden-headed Ashley Wilkes. He acknowledged that his overprotective tactics, compounded with gifts and money he provided her with, failed to bring so much-desired result – her love for him.

"_you married me when I was a very young and not very wise, and you failed to guide me with all your much-vaunted experience and your talents. Instead, you guided me that reputation is nothing to care for and that it is something unnecessary_…" appeared in Rhett's memory. What an insult and an accusation it was! Rhett Butler knew that he had aspired to restore the Butler's reputation at the expense of Scarlett's own reputation when he had appeared with Bonnie everywhere in Atlanta, not giving a damnthat Scarlett a chance even to spend more time with her. His self-respect and self-affirmation were wounded by the fact that he was a man, smart and intelligent, mature and with cool reasoning, but yet he failed to overplay Scarlett's love for Ashley and lost the game. Rhett also reassured himself multitude of times that she never truly loved him and also didn't love him a year ago when she proclaimed undying love for him.

"Scarlett's sudden, fast marriage after the divorce proves that Scarlett had lied to me. She is a heartless, greedy, self-absorbed creature who is naturally incapable of loving someone, except for herself," Rhett said to himself as he was trying to find consolation, justification, and excuse for his treatment of Scarlett.

Rhett re-read the lines of the farewell letter where Scarlett rejected the divorce settlement: "_I am also giving you back your money that you transferred to my account through Henry Hamilton. I don't need your ill-gotten gains…_" In sober fact, it turned out to be that he was terribly hurt by her reject of his money he offered Scarlett as divorce settlement. He had no answer to why she did so, but his self-esteem and ego were wounded and remained unsatisfied. However, in the deepest parts of his heart and soul, he felt proud for Scarlett's actions, although he again was afraid of recognizing it even to himself.

Moreover, Rhett was offended with that Scarlett mentioned his gambling habits and Belle's establishment as the areas he put money in. "_ Gamble on your great fortune, loose it, give it to Belle Watling or to other mistresses of yours - I don't give a damn …_" was buzzing in his ears loudly. He knew that she deliberately mentioned Belle, inlaying all her scorn to this woman. However, he failed to see the clear indication of Scarlett's jealousy to Belle as he seemed to prefer the mistress of the whorehouse to his own wife whom he proclaimed to love up to the moment of Bonnie's death. Rhett especially hated the words that Scarlett didn't give a damn as she seemed to use his own words and tactic to beat him. Didn't she really give a damn? Rhett persuaded himself that she didn't care for him as she got married to another man and forgot about him. Finally she won the whole battle, cornering Rhett to his extirpating, ever-weakening in its effectiveness methods of forgetting the reality – gambling, bedding whores, and drinking.

"_You also failed when I was finally ready to open my heart to you after Ashley's birthday night_…" resonated in Rhett's ears. He assured himself that from Scarlett's side there was only physical attraction to him and pleasure at that night. No, she couldn't love him from that night because she loved Ashley Wilkes, while Rhett gave her body only temporary pleasure and physical release. Emotionally, she was in Ashley's hands, as he told himself. However, when he recalled her passion and warm, ravenous endearments when they made love on the night of Ashley's birthday and on their last night in Charleston, he couldn't explain it. For the hundredth time Rhett repeated that it was only physical attraction and her gravitation to his bed experience with women. "_What did you do? You simply ran away and took my child from me_…" emerged in his memory, and he immediately found an explanation that he had to protect himself from his ex-wife who acted as a vamp and destroyer and made his miserable life. He added that he had to protect their daughter Bonnie from a heartless mother who didn't love her and didn't care for her.

Rhett apologized himself for divorce, public disgrace of Scarlett and her family's name, and her ruined reputation because he thought that they didn't have mutual love in their ill marriage, as he persuaded himself. He tried to believe that Scarlett wanted only his money and status when she accepted his proposal and that nothing had changed in their relations. "_I still love you, not your money or status, but you, love in an unrequited way and unconditionally…" _

No, she couldn't love him unconditionally, because she wanted only to get money from him as money and status were the only things she cared for in her life. Rhett thought that she rejected his money as the divorce settlement because she perhaps had some pride left, but, being loyal to herself, she got married to a noble French Marquise to gain his money, status, and authority. This was Rhett's reasoning and most likely explanation about his ex-wife's marriage and her false love for him. What a heartless and greedy woman Scarlett was, as Rhett thought. He smiled sardonically as he regarded Scarlett as a woman who was so skillful in alluring and attracting men to her precious figure that she managed to catch under her spell a new rich husband so quickly after the divorce with Rhett and eventually become the part of the European aristocracy.

"_One day you would probably realize that you lost your chance for happiness and that you wasted your life on whores…" _transfixed Rhett's inflamed brain. He immediately said to himself that he had been wasting his life in vain from the moment he laid his eyes on Scarlett on the barbeque at Twelve Oaks, making one more step on the cowardly road of escaping to acknowledge his own mistakes in their marriage.

In the end, Rhett could have seemed to be insane for his family members. Rhett's lifestyle was pretty simple: during the day he was sleeping and doing some work, while in the night he was gambling in the local saloon and bedded whores in the local whorehouse. His family members and servants were accustomed to find their master in his study or living room sleeping in the armchair or on the sofa after he returned from his night adventures. Eleanor and _Rosemary Geraldine Butler_, Rhett's sister, considered Bonnie's death the source of Rhett's despair, emotional devastation, and drinking habits. Finally Rhett told Rosemary and Eleanor learned about Rhett's official divorce with Scarlett and her remarriage with a noble French man.

Having learnt that Scarlett had got married to a French nobleman, Eleanor began to doubt that her former daughter-in-law didn't love Rhett sincerely. Day by day, Eleanor witnessed that Rhett was suffering and she didn't know how to console him as he was withdrawn and reserved. It was almost impossible to have a heat-to-heart conversation with Rhett, and Eleanor knew it. Rhett's mother was worried about Rhett's health and sanity as she saw that her eldest son was consumed in alcohol and that his life took downward spiraling. Eleanor tended to think that a new marriage would somehow help Rhett forget Scarlett and would stabilize his life. She was waiting for the convenient moment to talk to Rhett about the possibility of his remarriage, but was afraid of her son's reaction to her proposal.

It was a late afternoon of August 1875 when Eleanor Butler entered the study room. Her blue eyes fixed on Rhett who was sitting on the sofa with his head buried in his large hands. She cast her eye on the table with half empty decanter and sighed heavily. It was evident that Rhett was drinking and memorizing his marriage to Scarlett, and Eleanor saw how his shoulders slumped and his hands were shivering. She approached Rhett, settled in the sofa close to him, and put a hand on his back.

Rhett wasn't with Eleanor and even in Charleston at that second. He didn't hear how his mother entered the study room. He didn't feel her hand on his back as memories from the past suddenly overcame his mind with a double strength. His conscience replayed his cruel actions on the evening when Scarlett came to him for the second time and wanted to tell him something but he didn't give her even a chance to breathe and pushed her out in terrible cold and darkness. Again and again Rhett was bathing in the agony of his loneliness and misery as he couldn't avoid his self-disgust and frantic guilt for what he had done, despite his efforts to justify his behavior by the necessity to protect himself from heartless Scarlett, even despite her remarriage that crumpled him down.

"Mother, you are here. When did you come in?" Rhett asked as he turned his head and granted to Eleanor a false, dazzling smile.

"I have just came in, Rhett. You didn't see me as you were thinking hard. It seems to me that your mind is in Europe," Eleanor verbalized her thoughts.

"You are mistaken, mother. I was thinking about some business deals in England," he snapped.

"England is in Europe, son."

There was a long, tense pause, and Rhett spoke drawlingly in his well-modulated Charlestonian accent. He asked: "Mother, what do you want to ask?"

"Rhett, darling, you are my eldest son and the Butler family's heir. You are the man of the house and our family. You represent us in the public. I know that you have been through for so much, but you need to move on with your life," Eleanor kindly said to her eldest child, stroking his dark thick hair.

"I appreciate your concern but I am an old boy and know what to do and how to live," Rhett raised his head and said in indifferent tone, feeling burning guilt for being so rude with his mother. He looked at Eleanor with his tired eyes.

"Please, Rhett, try to forget Scarlett. She has got married to another man in Europe. She lives in France. She is far from you. And you must think about yourself. You can also marry another woman and have your own children to raise and take care of. They won't replace Bonnie, but will help your heart beat with its former frequency and warmth," Eleanor desperately tried to convince Rhett in the necessity to marry another woman.

"My dear mother, no child in the world will give me comfort unless it is Scarlett's child and is as perfect as my Bonnie was. My Bonnie was so unique and nobody will replace her to me," Rhett's eyes darkened and he signed heavily. He looked away. He sighed again and again.

"Son, do you remember _Silvia Ferdinanda Albertson Dawson_, a charming young lady, but unfortunately a widow. Her husband _John Jeremiah Dawson_ died around many years ago. She doesn't have children and will undoubtedly be happy to give you a child." She smiled softly with the thought that she can have another grandchild after Bonnie.

"I don't want to have more children, mother," he said with finality.

"But Rhett please…" She she half pleaded and half sighed.

Rhett was going to be persistent. "In fact, I promised myself that I would never have another child. My heart died with my princess, my Bonnie…" Rhett answered confidently and with sorrow in his voice. Rhett sprang to his feet, approached the table with decanter, and poured whisky. He took his drink at the thought of Bonnie, shuddering as hot whisky went down his throat to his stomach.

"Rhett, there is no sense in your tearing yourself to pieces this way. Think about the bright future you can have if you find a proper woman and settle down in Charleston with your new family, son," Eleanor said breathlessly and sighed heavily.

"Mother, I am not prone to have bright future with somebody. All my ever-prospective future is now in the past. Please, leave me alone here in peace," Rhett retorted abruptly and sank into the chair near the table with decanter.

"Silvia's father Nathaniel Albertson was your father's good friend. Her mother Ornella Simona is a charming lady, but I don't know her very close. I like this family. The Albertsons are one of the oldest and most respectable families in Charleston," Eleanor said.

"The Old Guard of Charleston," Rhett babbled indifferently. He wanted to close his eyes as boredom overcame him. At the thought of a boring proper lady in his bed and much worse in his life, his mind immediately made an effort to blot out the horrible vision but, however, it sucked him deeper and deeper and he couldn't find his way out. He clenched his fists and hissed: "Damn it!"

"Rhett, what happened?" Eleanor's eyes widened.

His shoulders stiffened. "I am fine, mother."

"Silvia Ferdinanda comes from a very respectable family. Besides, she seems to have a strong interest in you. I recall that she had even in the past before you married Scarlett. Why don't you try to court this girl?" Eleanor continued her attempts to save her son from his lonely, miserable life and to restore the Butlers' reputation in Charleston.

Rhett laughed. Then he smiled ironically with only his lips. "A standard, proper lady of Charleston will be boring for me. I don't have attraction to such rank-and-file ladies," he jeered.

"Rhett, please be reasonable and polite." Rhett wasn't going to make it easier for her. Eleanor panicked at the lump of disappointment and alarm swelling in her throat. She couldn't bear to remain here more, in the same room with Rhett, but she really ought to stay and face the results of her blandishment.

Rhett was going to contradict her. "Spiritual attraction is not enough for me, mother. There is also physical attraction."

"Rhett, don't talk to me so brazenly. It is improper, son." Eleanor blushed at Rhett's words.

Rhett looked up at Eleanor. There was a long silence, broken only by the rasp of their breaths. It was a long-enduring, self-imposed silence. Rhett was digesting the information, Eleanor was waiting.

"It isn't the worst idea, mother," he drawled with a tinge of heavy irony.

Eleanor stared at him. "I am glad to hear this. You must think about your future," Eleanor's loud, exited voice filled the room.

"My marriage will help restore the reputation of our great family in Charleston and in the whole South," Rhett said after the prolonged tense silence.

"I am sure that you will like Silvia. She can become an excellent wife for you, son," Eleanor said reassuringly. She was happy with Rhett's desire to meet Silvia.

He glanced over his shoulder at Eleanor. "We can invite her family for your tea party this week. What do you think about the idea?" Rhett asked his mother calmly, with usual cold indifference.

"Rhett, this is a brilliant idea. I will certainly do it for you. You will like the girl, I am sure," his mother's eyes were glittering from pleasure that she managed to get what she wanted from Rhett.

"Mother, I don't promise you something right now, but I will meet with this lady," Rhett answered, again indifferently. "I will consider your advice about the remarriage."

Rhett had already met _Silvia Ferdinanda Albertson Dawson_. She was one of Rosemary's close friends and often visited the Butler house on the Battery. It must be that during one of these visits Rhett met her. It occurred when he came to Charleston with Bonnie several years ago and occasionally saw Silvia with Rosemarie during one of his mother Eleanor's traditional tea parties, which are usually organized twice a week. At that time Rhett hadn't remembered Silvia well enough, but after the conversation with Eleanor Silvia's image reappeared in Rhett's mind.

Silvia Ferdinanda was a tall slim woman with a relatively nice, yet dull face marked by a sugar smile, with hazel eyes. Her hazel eyes were turned a little down on the outer corners. Her nose was a Roman nose, with a prominent bridge, giving it the appearance of being curved. She wasn't pretty at all. She had bright complexion and chestnut brown hair. There was nothing vivid and memorable in Silvia's appearance. The only thing Rhett absolutely liked in this woman was her pure, a little swarthy skin glowing in the soft firelight. He even wondered how a woman born in the Old South could have a little swarthy skin as it was widely accepted that Sothern ladies were proud of their magnolia-white skin. However, in general Rhett could hardly catch the fire by looking at the silhouette of her slim figure or at her face with sweet smile. Silvia was a quite average, plain, natural lady of Charleston, a classic representative of the Old Guard and the antebellum society. Undoubtedly, this lady will never bewitch him because she was boring and unattractive for Rhett both physically and emotionally.

Rhett refused to marry a similar proper lady thirty years ago, and as a result he had to leave the city of his birth. In addition, his father Langston Butler banished Rhett from the Butler house and denied any possibility to meet his mother Eleanor and his sister Rosemary. Now, when Rhett intended to settle down in Charleston and was desperately seeking for his peace, he thought that it might be worth marrying such a plain lady who would love him and would respect him as a husband, who would submit to his requests and to his desires, not asking odd, excessive questions. Anyway, Rhett didn't want to change his disreputable, stigmatic, and self-destructive lifestyle associated with gambling, bedding whores, and drinking himself to stupor in order to forget his heartache and Scarlett.

Such a respectable marriage to a respectable lady would undoubtedly help Rhett restore his reputation in the city of his birth and to cement himself in Charleston forever. Being married, Rhett still could visit Belle in Atlanta and other establishments in Charleston or somewhere else. His heart swelled painfully with jealousy as he remembered that Scarlett had already got married to another man. Rhett asked himself why he couldn't do the same and take sweet revenge for Scarlett's marriage to a French nobleman. It will give him utter pleasure and satisfaction, he mused. At least he will have a warm body in his bed and, probably, even love devoted only and only to him and for his sake. Besides, he will help his family and appease his old mother Eleanor. Given his scandalous past, now Rhett must do the honorable thing by marrying a proper lady and reestablishing his own and his family's reputation, which was demolished in the light of his past sins and transgressions. The piercing reality was that he was absolutely alone and that all his biography was scandalous and dirty. He mused that perhaps the time for civil, honorable life had come. But was it so? Or he simply fantasized this possibility?

In fact, Rhett really didn't care what would happen with his life. He still felt nothing, except for complete emptiness and hollow in his heart and soul. He seemed to lose his cognitive abilities and become a cold unfeeling stranger without any purpose in life and desires. His only desire was to find peace and harmony.

Rhett often remembered Scarlett. He couldn't forget his former wife. It was not in his physical and mental ability. Most often, Rhett thought why Scarlett had run away from the United States to Europe and to France, leaving Georgia and the whole South behind. Why didn't she come to the North of the States or to any of the other Southern states? Why did she go to Europe? Rhett asked himself why she had chosen London among all other cities in Europe. Even more extraordinary was the fact that she didn't follow his advice and wasn't chasing after Ashley Wilkes and wasn't in his bed. Instead, Scarlett became the wife of a certain noble French gentleman, whose surname was quite familiar to Rhett, but he couldn't remember where he had heard it before. He knew that Scarlett's sudden marriage and unexpected departure from the United States had been strange, and such thoughts frequently popped Rhett's mind. However, Rhett tried to pull them away by following his customary path – drinking, gambling, and bedding loose women. It was difficult for him to stop now. Rhett emphatically rejected the idea that Scarlett hadn't loved Ashley, and he assured himself that his former wife had surrendered under her new husband's nobility and money, which Ashley Wilkes could never give her.

Scarlett was in Europe, very far from Charleston. _Silvia Ferdinanda Albertson Dawson_ was here in Charleston. Rhett wanted to change his life and restore his reputation. He needed to do something. Why not to consider Silvia Dawson to be his wife? It was truth that Silvia had never been a woman in his taste and that her appearance was very different from that of his former wife. It was truth that Rhett hadn't felt strong physical attraction to Silvia. She wasn't a typical woman Rhett could take as his mistress or would consider to take to his bed for a short love affair. No, she was too plain and respectable for him, and he didn't have an appeal to preserve her Southern virtues in intimacy like it had been with Scarlett in the first years of their marriage. However, Rhett could appease himself with the fact that Silvia would be in full obedience to him after the marriage and that he would be able to take his mistress to spend some nights with her. Mistress will help him dissolve his boring life in Charleston with some fun and some entertainment. Pretending to be a proper gentleman of Charleston, in sober fact Rhett was keeping his true nature of a blackguard deep inside his heart, even not attempting to ignore that fact in his mind. But was it easy for him? Was it honorable to marry Silvia Dawson when he had such improper thoughts, constantly popping into his head? Rhett didn't ask such questions and didn't give a damn about them.

* * *

_What do you think about such emotionally dead Rhett? He is indeed heartbroken. He is stubborn and always running from himself, like it was in the original book. He is self-assured and egoistic. Or I am not right?_

_I hope you liked Scarlett's letter to Rhett. I wanted her to show her teeth after he had thrown her out of his house in Charleston._

_I think that if Rhett had ever considered a remarriage to be a possible option to forget Scarlett and to restore his reputation in Charleston, he would most likely choose a widow with some experience. I don't believe that Rhett would prefer an innocent, very young girl. With all his experience with loose woman, having a more or less experienced fiancée sounds more logical. It is my personal opinion. _

_Your reviews are always welcome, both bad and good! Thank you very much! _


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

**Rhett's engagement in Charleston and Mathieu's death in Paris**

In April 1875, Rhett started regularly calling on Silvia at the Albertson house. He even took Silvia in a buggy ride, which ironically caused the compromising accident with another very similar, proper lady around thirty years ago, when Rhett had to finally leave the house and his father blacked out his name from the family's bible. Silvia and Rhett met on numerous charity events, memorial evenings, and tea parties, so typical for Charleston proper life. In the majority of cases, Rhett and Silvia's chats were idle and yeasty as Rhett wasn't interested in her and found their communication pretty annoying. He treated her with a sort of suave, impersonal indifference, and, to his utter surprise, she accepted it. Silvia seemed to be pleased with Rhett's unexpected attention. Rhett didn't bother himself to understand why it was so and continued the chosen behavioral strategy with her.

Rhett's darling sister Rosemary supported Silvia's candidacy on numerous occasions and by using every imaginable method because she hated Scarlett and subconsciously was afraid of her possible return to Rhett, although unlikely, truth to be said. Under the pressure of his family, in September 1875, Rhett finally proposed to Silvia who seemed to be happy to become new Mrs Butler. Therefore, Rhett was officially engaged to Silvia in roughly four months after his first call on her to her the Albertson house.

"Silvia Ferdinanda, will you marry me?" Rhett questioned, his voice sounding traditionally aloof. For an instance he couldn't trust himself to speak because he did what he considered rather doubtful deeply in his heart. What did he do? But there was no coming back.

"Yes, I will," Silvia replied in a steady voice. A sweet smile animated her face. She replied without any shadow of hesitation as though she expected his proposal and as if she truly loved him.

"Do you need some time to think?"

"No, I don't," Silvia nodded in agreement. "I know what I want."

"Very well," he returned solicitously. He took her right hand and kissed it, his lips barely touching ivory skin. He formally bowed to her. "And what do you want?"

"I want you. I am very happy today," Silvia declared.

"I am glad to hear it from you," Rhett said. He forced out a smile at her. His smile was very far from being a happy, unshadowed smile, lighting his eyes from within. It was a melancholic smile.

"You made me happy, Rhett."

"It is my responsibility from now and thereafter," he responded, his voice expressionless.

His immediate reaction to the proposal was a new and rather awe-inspiring sensation that it was correct for his family, but maybe not for him, but he pushed all these thoughts away from him. Being emotionally dead man inside and unable to feel and dream, Rhett didn't give a damn what he was doing. As a result, in approximately six-seven months after official engagement Rhett planned to remarry Silvia Dawson just to please his family, restore the family reputation in the society, and take long-awaited revenge on Scarlett for her remarriage with unknown noble and rich man from Europe.

The news of Rhett's engagement to Silvia Ferdinanda Albertson Dawson spread like a fire in Charleston. The engagement was discussed on the tea parties and charity events, musical evenings and during the balls. The society effect was very positive for the reputation of the Butler name as Silvia's family was one of the most proper and the oldest families in ceremonial Charleston. Rosemary and Eleanor were happy, while Rhett remained indifferent and absorbed in memories and his night activities in the local whorehouse. For Rhett, the only advantage of the engagement to Silvia was that he stopped everyday drinking and was sober in the majority of cases. He felt much better physically, while his appearance also improved drastically as he looked healthier and more handsome now, almost like old Rhett, a womanizer and a renegade who captured and then turned down the heads and hearts of many women. Visibly he was the old Rhett, except for his dead eyes and forced smiles in public.

Rhett wasn't very happy with the necessity to marry again, but he cherished himself with the fact that it was mandatory for his family and its reputation. However, he remembered Scarlett almost every day, virtually more and more often as time was passing. It was dangerous for Rhett's mind and shaky composure and peace, and he knew it, but could do nothing about it. He was still afraid of his life being ruined by his love for Scarlett. However, Rhett felt more in peace and more soul-balanced than a year ago.

"I feel like I still love Scarlett. Why else do I constantly remember her face, her hands, and that night? Perhaps, I did too much to move her away from me. No, I was correct in my actions. She will ruin me if she touches my life and my new peace again. I cannot risk my heart and life again," Rhett mused. His thoughts traveled again to Scarlett and their honeymoon in New Orleans.

In the chilly morning of November 1875, Rhett departed from Charleston to Atlanta to pick up Belle and next morning to head to New Orleans to meet with Robert, Belle's and his son who was studying at the boarding school. Rhett was constantly visiting the boy who was no longer small and longed for his Uncle Rhett's visits because he saw in him his father whom he had never known. Rhett was happy that his son from Belle was alive, although he didn't consider telling him the truth about his birth and claim the boy.

Rhett spent the night in Atlanta at Belle's, in the town that he dismayed with all his heart. The city was full of memories and sorrow, but somehow Rhett seemed to adjust more or less to the necessity to visit Atlanta and Belle from time to time. Rhett's visits to Belle were the comfort for his wounded heart, and he longed for their conversations a lot.

"Hello Belle. Delighted to meet old friend?" Rhett asked Belle carelessly, kissing her in her full lips. "How are you, darling?"

"I am fine, Rhett. I haven't seen you for the last two months. I have missed you very much."

Rhett gave Belle a silly little bow. "I have missed you too."

"How have you been in Charleston?" Belle inquired, her eyes scanning Rhett's appearance from the feet to the crown.

"We are departing tomorrow," Rhett replied. He looked tired. "Have all your things packed."

"Alright, Rhett." There was something unusual in his glance, and Belle noticed it.

"I plan to leave early, Belle."

"That's fine, Rhett."

"Good." His voice was abrupt.

"Do you have any news for your old friend Belle? How is life in Charleston? You seem to spend there almost all your time," Belle put a question to Rhett who was lost in his thoughts about Silvia and Scarlett as he constantly compared them in his mind.

"I am engaged to one proper lady from Charleston. The wedding will take place in several months," Rhett added to shocked Belle who was staring at him questionably without a clear understanding of the topic.

"You are remarrying, aren't you? Are you joking with me? Rhett, honey, you have gone mad, haven't you?" Belle drawled at Rhett in a sing song voice. She looked truly bewildered.

"No, Belle, I haven't gone mad. I am just starting new life with a proper lady. Now Scarlett was married to a French Marquis and lived in Paris. She is very happy there. Why can't I start new life and live in peace with a proper lady of Charleston?" Rhett declared with determination in a tone that convinced neither him nor Belle.

"You want to take sweet revenge on Scarlett for her remarrying to another man. You will only punish yourself, darling," Belle said seriously.

His brow furrowed. "Belle, I can marry her and take a new mistress for private entertainment," he said. Then he tried to express a joy on his face, but he failed. "Besides, I will still visit you."

"It is a very bad decision for you, definitely not the solution to your personal problems. Don't be a fool, Rhett," Belle said in a categorical, unceremonious tone.

"Belle, I am done with Scarlett both emotionally and physically. I want to help my family to reestablish its former respectability and strengthen my own internal peace," Rhett objected.

Belle glared at him suspiciously. "You don't have peace and will never find it without Scarlett. Your only medicine is at least having a love affair with this green-eyed vixen," she countered him.

"Belle, I am done with her! Done," Rhett repeated in irritation. He looked at Belle and laughed, but it was not a pleasant laugh. "I have to be done with her as otherwise I will be cornered."

"You are poisoned with her. She is in your blood, honey," Belle spelled out loudly for Rhett, smiling broadly and taking his hands in hers. "And you love her, and don't ever lie to me."

"Belle, my dear, I didn't ask your opinion on this occasion. I plan to reestablish the Butler family's reputation in Charleston. I finally found my peace."

Belle grinned at him. She couldn't be serious with the man who was making such a terrible mistake, pretending to be right. "Is it the only reason for this stupid decision?"

"You are right. This is the reason I am marrying Silvia. I am through with Scarlett, completely and in each and every aspect. Trust me, Belle," Rhett laughed bitterly after his long speech.

"Rhett, darling, I care a lot for you. You will never be done this Scarlett, and she will always drive you to the edge of your sanity. You still love her, but you are trying to protect your so-called peace and run away from her," Belle continued and kissed Rhett's fingers on his right hand. "Admit it at least in your mind, Rhett."

"Darling Belle, let's finish this conversation about Scarlett. Pray tell me what happened in the town in my absence. Are there any new gossips? How is wooden-headed knight Ashley Wilkes doing?" putting his hand under Belle's chin, he turned her face up to his to better see her eyes. He felt a naturally warm friendliness and content only when he was at Belle's and was luxuriating in their current conversation.

"You return to Scarlett in your thoughts constantly. Ashley is fine and pretty well-off. There were rumors in the town that your former wife deposited a large amount of money for him before she left Atlanta. In accordance with rumors, the Wilkes family live on this money," Belle murmured quietly.

"Scarlett is a shameless bitch. She might have used my money to help Ashley to support that goddamned sawmill. However, now I don't know how she is financing sawmill."

"Why is it so?"

"Scarlett returned me the divorce settlement," Rhett said. His face expressed confusion and incomprehension relative to Scarlett' actions.

"She should be using her own money from Frank's store to support sawmill," Belle presumed.

"Alternatively, she can take her new husband's money for Ashley," Rhett let out a chilling laugh.

"No, that is impossible," Belle shook her head. "Why did Scarlett give you back the divorce settlement? What did she tell you, Rhett? She seems to be a proud lady. I think she has changed significantly after your daughter's death and your separation from her."

"This is still a mystery for me."

"I can imagine your amusement."

"I was numb and speechless when Henry Hamilton told me about it. Scarlett also wrote me about it her masterpiece, I mean, her farewell letter to me," Rhett lighted his cigarillo and laughed sardonically outright.

"Scarlett wants to show her independence. Perhaps, she really loves you and doesn't need only money on your bank account. What do you think, honey?"

"I am sure Scarlett got married to that aristocrat for the sake of his money and his status. Apparently, she still cares for Ashley if she helps him so much. This greedy creature cannot spend a dollar if it is not for her own sake or her beloved, stupid Ashley," Rhett continued his emotional outburst about Ashley and Scarlett.

"I don't think so, Rhett. You told me that she promised Melanie on her deathbed to take care of Ashley and his son. I consider the above the most plausible and likely explanation," Belle scoffed.

"She still loves Ashley. She got married only because of money and status of this poor French nobleman. It is evident, Belle."

"We don't know for sure."

"Scarlett helps Ashley because she still loves him. It is only partly to fulfill her promise to Melanie."

"Rhett, you may be wrong."

"No, I am not wrong," he parried. "She didn't love and appreciate Mrs Wilkes, at least till the day she died." Rhett's face tightened. His lips twisted sardonically in a semblance of unpleasant smile. "Scarlett is incapable of kind, gentle acts for somebody, apart from herself."

"I don't agree, Rhett. By the way, you look much better than several months ago. You had been right to stop constant drinking, Rhett. Would you like a girl for this night?" Belle was interested in Rhett's sexual activities because she knew that he hadn't shared the bed with his proper fiancée from Charleston. Belle was laughing at Rhett silently.

"No Belle. Not today. I am not in the mood," Rhett tried to change the topic of the conversation.

Belle moved uncomfortably in her chair, not liking the picture Rhett was fashioning. "As you wish."

"I need one drink, my first one today, before I go to bed. I still cannot sleep without a drink. Better tell me how the business goes."

"Rhett, darling, don't try to hide from me. I am your friend and care for you. You are not done with Scarlett. Open your eyes and admit it at least to yourself. Don't be a coward."

"Belle, how is business going on in your skillful hands?" Rhett repeated his question. He forced out a smile at her with the gleam of something almost mischievous in his expression.

"Business is going well, Rhett," Belle pronounced, her voice tremulous. "I wonder how much time will pass before you finally regain conscience from the longstanding, deep-drawn swoon."

Sadness, despondency, and darkness flooded an old large mansion in the Baroque style on _Rue des Blancs Manteaux in Le Marais. __Mathieu Paul Louis de Harlay de Champvallon, 13th Marquis de Bréval, _was dying. Day after day Mathieu was feeling worse and worse. Numerous doctors appeared at the house, but they all said that nothing will save Scarlett's new husband. Mathieu's health was deteriorating every day, and he no longer looked as a handsome, masculine man with a strong face whom Scarlett met on the board of the ship less than a year ago. Mathieu spent the majority of his time in his large bedchamber located on the second floor of the mansion. At times, Mathieu went downstairs to his study room where he either worked with his papers or met with his business associates.

It was a very difficult time for all Mathieu's relatives, especially for his only son _Charles Louis Nicolas de Harlay de Champvallon_. Usually alive, vivacious, and energetic, Charles became restrained, tongue-tied, and sullen. His clever hazel eyes often had a strange, faraway glance, while his smile was wistful and melancholic, if he smiled at all. It was as though light was gone out of the boy as he realized that his father was dying. Charles was just a twelve-year-old boy who had lost his mother Antoinette in early childhood. The fact that his father would also leave him soon depressed and frightened the boy.

Charles often spent long hours with Mathieu in his bedroom, talking to him and remembering his mother Antoinette. If Mathieu was sleeping, Charles was standing near his bed, his long fingers stroking his father's temples or brows, tracing his features, squeezing his hand. The boy's heart nearly stopped and his breath hitched painfully as he scrutinized every beloved inch of his sick father in the bed.

Although Charles liked Scarlett from the very beginning she and Mathieu moved to Paris after the wedding, he wasn't inclined to share his pain with her. Even Annabelle, whom the boy had known since his early childhood, wasn't able to console him. Scarlett and Annabelle's attempts to comfort him were useless as they couldn't encourage Charles to believe that everything will end up positively for his father – the boy knew the truth.

As Mathieu began to accept large doses of the opiates to ease his pains, he often was delirious in his dreamless sleep. If at that moment Scarlett or Charles squeezed his hand, as soon as this hand had been taken from Mathieu's, he grew agitated, twisting with painful grimaces, his raspy voice calling to Scarlett or Antoinette or Charles. At times, he was calling for his deceased wife Antoinette in a strange manner as he asked her to forgive him for something, which Scarlett didn't understand. At times, Charles also didn't comprehend Mathieu's disjointed rumbling about Antoinette.

When Mathieu wasn't sleeping and Scarlett was with him, they often talked about the past. Mathieu told Scarlett many stories about his life, including the story of his love for Antoinette. He narrated the story how he met Antoinette during the ball at _Château de Compiègne_, which was _Napoleon III_ and _Empress Eugenie's_ autumn residence. He was talking much about their deep, sincere love and about their matrimony, which turned out to be tragic despite their love: Antoinette had several miscarriages, produced three stillborn babies, and finally died in childbirth. Mathieu reported to Scarlett how he traveled to other European countries, to Asia, and to Latin America. As they were talking, Mathieu often stared at her with the Rhett's old cat-at-a-mouse-hole gaze, patient and alert, watching and scrutinizing. Scarlett didn't know what it meant and didn't try to analyze, thinking that her only task was to spend with Mathieu as much time as she could and alleviate his pain and his sufferings.

"Scarlett, I loved my wife Antoinette so much," Mathieu said slowly.

Mathieu was lying on the large bed, two pillows under his head. His face was very tired. He was so pale that even ghosts at the cemetery probably looked better if they indeed existed. His green velvet robe was fastened high up to his neck.

Scarlett felt as her heart skipped a beat and eventually collapsed. "I know, Mathieu. Of course, you loved your dear wife very much." Her voice was sweet, as though filled with sentimental music.

"I loved her, but she died." Mathieu's voice turned lower, but deeper. "And now I am also dying. I will meet her soon."

Scarlett reached for his hand and squeezed it. "Dear Mathieu, please don't talk about death." She stared at him with a caring gaze. She put all the comfort and the feeling of friendship, which she wished to give Mathieu, in her eyes and in her voice.

"Death is inevitable. Nobody can avoid it. One of my legs is already in the tomb," he said.

Mathieu made several movements on the bed. He sighed several times and closed his hazel eyes for composure. Scarlett saw how he took another deep breath and let it out slowly. Then she watched him to do it again. At least her husband was breathing, she mused. His breath was as though a response to her fear that he would die soon. Mathieu moaned twice quietly, taking in deep breaths in between them until finally he was silent. Mathieu's eyes were focused on his hands, but slowly, inch by inch, he raised tem to Scarlett. As he did that, Scarlett saw in Mathieu's hazel eyes Rhett's old cat-at-a-mouse-hole gaze – he was watching her for whatever reason.

Scarlett held his gaze. She didn't blink. "How are you feeling, Mathieu?"

Mathieu drew a new harsh breath. Then he allowed himself a short, low laugh. "I am feeling as a dying man can feel."

Scarlett didn't know what to answer. She lowered her gaze. "Oh, Mathieu. Oh, Mathieu," she breathed.

Mathieu's gaze turned more intensive. "Scarlett, darling, will you ever remember me when I die?"

Scarlett reached for Mathieu's right hand. "Mathieu, what are you talking about? Of course, I will remember you. I will often remember you. You saved me from disgrace and humiliation. You showed me new life in Paris and in London." She grasped his hand tighter in a friendly outburst. "I will always remember you," she assured sincerely. "I don't know what I would do without you. You are so gentle and so caring and so honorable." She paused.

"Scarlett, it is not only I who introduced you to the high society of Europe. The Robillards also did a perfect job in France, especially Annabelle. The Duke of Aylesbury, my dear friend Philippe, presented you to the ton of England," he said slowly.

Scarlett nodded. "It is true, Mathieu."

Mathieu raised his left hand, his fingers combing through his hair once as if to test the reality. "Scarlett, you are so beautiful," he said simply and closed his eyes. He sighed heavily.

Her cheeks were flushing. "Thank you, Mathieu."

A poor semblance of smile stirred Mathieu's lips. "Scarlett, you are unique. Your exotic beauty can drive every man to the brink of his sanity," he confessed as though it was a mantra.

Scarlett didn't know what to say. "Mathieu…" she whispered. She felt entranced by his voice. Her feelings were irrational, but she wanted to be there with Mathieu and to comfort him on his deathbed. "I… I don't want you to die," she rasped, as though there was a low wail in her voice.

Mathieu slid his eyes shut. "There is nothing to be done with my sickness." He paused. A new sign followed. "Nothing," he repeated.

Mathieu's first cousins _Frédéric Philippe Auguste de Harlay, 16th Count de Cesy_, and_ Barthélémy Christophe François de Harlay,_ _17th Baron de Maule, _often visited his house. Both Frédéric and Barthélémy looked alarmed and uneasy as they took Mathieu's sickness and agony very close to their hearts. They truly loved Mathieu. Their children also came several times. Even light-minded, flippant _Anaïs Laure Victurnienne de Harlay_, _Baroness de La Chardonnière, _also Frédéric and Barthélémy's sister, visited Mathieu twice, and during each visit she looked anxious and concerned with Mathieu's health. Of course, a long, long stream of Mathieu's friends and acquaintances stretched to Mathieu's mansion as the news about his progressing sickness spread in Paris. However, Mathieu didn't accept all of them as he was too weak and exhausted. Loyal and caring friends, the Duke of Aylesbury and Lord Effingham visited him five times in the last three months.

In one cold evening of October 1874, Mathieu's lawyer_ Pierre Jean François Blanick_ came to the house. He had a long audience with Mathieu in his bedchamber. Having spent more than three hours together, they finally prepared Mathieu's will and the legal documents about Charles's future guardianship. Mathieu signed and sealed all the documents. A family meeting was scheduled for the next day with the purpose to announce Mathieu's final will. Scarlett, Charles, as well as Mathieu's fist cousins Frédéric, Barthélémy, and Anaïs were invited to come.

At the family meeting, Mathieu declared that his son Charles had been his main legal heir and, certainly, the future holder of the title. Seventy percent of the money, which Mathieu kept in gold in English banks, was willed to Charles. The remainder – thirty perfect of Mathieu's money - was willed to Scarlett and her daughters Blanche and Isabelle, who were recognized by Mathieu as his own children. Mathieu's property in _Picardy_, _Languedoc_, _Bretagne_, and _Provence_, as well as another house in Paris were willed to Charles. Mathieu transferred the ownership rights of the house, where they lived now, to Scarlett. Scarlett and Frédéric were supposed to be Charles's legal guardians, and it was said that the boy should be living at the house where he was born, namely the mansion on _Rue des Blancs Manteaux _in_ Le Marais, _till his maturity age. Effectively, it meant that the boy would live with Scarlett. According to Mathieu's will, Scarlett and Frédéric will have to manage the money and the property until Charles reaches his maturity age. Mathieu also willed some money to charities. While Scarlett and Mathieu, as well as Barthélémy, accepted Mathieu's will for granted, Anaïs was infuriated as she apparently hoped that she would be able to inherit something after Mathieu's death, and she had her own reasons for it.

After Mathieu's final will was announced to everybody, Frédéric, Barthélémy, and Anaïs went to the study room on the first floor. As Anaïs was deliberately walking slowly, behind her brothers, she was the last to enter the room, and she slammed the door so hard that the lintel cracked.

Frédéric only sighed. He and Barthélémy settled on the comfortable sofa near the fireplace. Both Frédéric and Barthélémy stared at Anaïs. Frédéric was displeased with both her appearance and her behavior. Barthélémy was accustomed and ignored Anaïs's habits to dress extravagantly, expensively, and very vividly.

Anaïs was dressed in the semi-sheer French gown of orange color, with the medium-length train and the massive laces on the waistbands. The neckline was as low as it was hardly decent to go outside. The gown showed back fullness from at hip-level rather than the waist. The front of the gown was trimmed with several large yellow bows from silky ribbons. The gown fitted smoothly to Anaïs's body from the shoulders to the lower hips, stressing the slimness of her figure. The color of Anaïs's hair was deep burgundy, matching her orange dress perfectly with her hair color. Anaïs wasn't very beautiful, but she was quite attractive, very vivid, and extremely memorable.

"Anaïs, I think that you are better to wear less vivid gowns when you visit Mathieu," Frédéric remarked.

"I don't care, Frédéric," Anaïs parried.

"I think Frédéric is saying accurate things," Barthélémy noted.

"I don't care!" Anaïs raised her voice. "I will never come back to this house again!" she yelled in indignation.

Frédéric swung around to face her. "Anaïs, calm down. It is Mathieu's will, and you must accept it." His voice was steady and calm.

"Mathieu is so greedy!" Anaïs exclaimed. "He willed everything to Scarlett and Charles and his new children. He even gave this magnificent house to Scarlett."

Frédéric stared at her and chuckled. "Anaïs, it is understandable. Scarlett and the girls are his family. Charles is his son. Everything is very clear."

Barthélémy shrugged in uncertainty. "I agree with Frédéric."

Anaïs shook her head helplessly, in defeat. "Mathieu knows that I desperately need money. I need it much more than Scarlett does. I have seven children, and I must be able to support them."

Barthélémy furrowed his brows. "In addition, _Duke Roger d'Estissac_ had always supported all your illegitimate children financially, whether they are his or not."

"I know, but it is not enough," Anaïs parried.

"Anaïs, we are giving you and your children sufficient amount of money. I have always covered the expenses on your children's living and education. What else do you need?" Frédéric questioned.

"I need my own independence," Anaïs said in a high voice. "I need much more money for the life I am accustomed to lead. My dear husband died and left me only with debt. If not for you, brothers, Mathieu, and my… erm… friends, I would never survive."

"But why Mathieu should cover your expenses?" Barthélémy's voice broke into the argument. "He has always tried to help you, but his help was reasonable."

"Mathieu gave little money to me," Anaïs retorted.

Frédéric's sardonic eyes mocked Anaïs. "I wouldn't say so. Maybe, you just spent too much."

Anaïs looked up with doleful eyes. "Only my friends, including my dear Roger, Maximilien, Philippe, and Ian understand me. They have always given me enough."

"Naturally," Frédéric said in an unpleasant tone. "In different times, you were their mistress. I guess the Duke of Aylesbury, the Duke of Lauderdale, and _Duke Roger d'Estissac _were the most generous among your lovers."

"Roger is paying for his two children out of your four illegitimate brats," Barthélémy added.

"But I don't have any children with Aylesbury!" Anaïs cried out.

Frédéric smiled mirthlessly. "I know. Aylesbury is too clever to have the out-of-wedlock children."

Anaïs's blue eyes flashed with excitement. "But despite it Aylesbury was generous." Her eyes turned sad. "It is a great pity that we are no longer together."

"It is bad for you and good for him that he left you," Barthélémy said skeptically.

Anaïs ignored Barthélémy's spiteful comment. "Darling brothers, I am a helpless woman. I cannot support myself. If they are with me, they must help me," she verbalized her reasoning. "I am just a beautiful, defenseless lady."

"Beautiful, but lascivious and dissolute," Frédéric snapped.

Barthélémy's lips twisted in a sardonic grin. "Moreover, you are not defenseless."

Her glaring displeasure resulted in a small frown furrowing her brow. "Probably, you are right, but we discussed another theme."

Frédéric sighed. "Oh, I see."

"Mathieu is a greedy, indifferent fool. He had to leave something valuable for me and my children, who are his first cousins once removed," Anaïs exploded. "Damn Mathieu! Damn Mathieu!"

"Watch your tongue, Anaïs," Barthélémy croaked painfully.

"You must stop now, sister," Frédéric warned.

Anaïs touched her forehead. "I don't mean that Mathieu is so bad. He is just greedy. And he has great fortune, as you damn well know." This was directed at her two brothers, along with a fulminating glare. "And my children..."

Frédéric stared at his brother Barthélémy. "I think I had better start explaining some things to Anaïs," he said quietly. He waved his hand for silence and turned his gaze to Anaïs. "Stop it, Anaïs. Otherwise you will regret about what you said. I will stop giving money to you at all, and your lovers will have to pay all your expenses. I am not bringing your children here – I will pay for their expenses in either case."

A wide grin emerged on Barthélémy's face. "It is amazing how quickly one can learn to understand a sign language, my dear sister."

They didn't hear how Scarlett returned into the study room. As she opened the door, she saw frozen Frédéric, Barthélémy, and Anaïs. She didn't hear their conversation. She paused at a doorway. "Oh, my Lord!" Scarlett said, suddenly noticing fleeting anxiety on their faces. "Are you still here? I thought you had left as we said our goodbyes in Mathieu's bedroom upstairs."

"I believe I took a wrong turn somewhere on the road," Frédéric said grimly. "I seem to have walked into where I didn't intend to go. Don't worry, Scarlett we are leaving now. We were just talking."

Barthélémy forced out a smile. "Don't be alarmed, Scarlett. Our behavior won't cause an extraordinary degree of trouble and misunderstanding for you."

"We are sorry if we disturbed you, Scarlett," Anaïs intruded, her blue eyes yellow-bellied.

Scarlett smiled warmly. "It is fine. You can stay here as much as you want."

"Thank you, Scarlett, but we are leaving," Frédéric said with finality.

In several minutes, Frédéric, Barthélémy, and Anaïs left the house. Scarlett, Annabelle, and Charles remained alone in the gloomy house. After the dinner, Charles retired to his bedroom to read the book, having vague hopes to distract himself from his haunting thoughts about his father's death. Annabelle was going to spend some time with Charles and soon made her way upstairs to the boy's room. Scarlett decided to go and check how Mathieu was doing.

Scarlett softly opened the French door of the large bedchamber, decorated in accordance with _Louis XV style. _She came inside the room of her husband Mathieu, a room with pale-blue walls, dark-blue carpets, and all the furniture, including elegant armchairs and the bed, padded by blue brocade. She swept her green eyes over the from natural walnut, the large wooden four-poster bed was decorated with floral garlands, fine pinecones, multicolored draped ribbons, bronze carved ornament, bronze and silver leaves of acanthus, and other elements of the baroque style. Other furniture was also wooden and ornamented with the same details. Everything was decorated in accordance with Mathieu's fine, but rather extravagant tastes.

Mathieu was lying in his enormous bed, and his eyes were closed. He no longer was a handsome, masculine-built man whom Scarlett met on the ship in the middle of the ocean. He looked deathly pale, as a ghost at a cemetery, and lost a lot of weight in his struggle with death haunting him. His face pined away, and his cheeks were hollow. In the past month, he was bedridden as his fragile health had been deteriorating at the speed of velocity. Scarlett stepped forward, breathed in deeply and took a sit on the edge of his bed. Feeling her presence, Mathieu opened his hazel eyes befogged with pain.

"Scarlett, darling, my days are counted. I am dying," Mathieu said very slowly, looking at Scarlett with intensity.

"Mathieu, please take your rest," Scarlett humbly tried to console him. She took his hand in her tiny one and gripped in the act of gratitude. "Don't say that you are dying."

"What I am saying is the truth, my darling," Mathieu parried under his breath. He drew a deep breath with a great effort and attempted to lift his body, but in his powerlessness he tumbled down back to the pillows. Scarlett accurately propped him on the pillows. "You see, darling, I am no longer a man whom you met on the ship a little less than a year ago. I am dying, Scarlett."

"Don't say so, Mathieu," she pleaded as anger at fate and fear for him overcame her. She knew that she couldn't help him, and a nagging pain was grinding her heart. She reiterated: "Don't say so."

"It is the truth. Scarlett, tell me how are Blanche and Isabelle. They are such a treasure," Mathieu mumbled and clenched his teeth and fists as a strong tide of pain surged through his body.

"They are very good, darling. They miss you," Scarlett replied. She used "darling" to elevate Mathieu's mood. Over the past months, she began to notice that each time she talked to him heart-to-heart, his hazel eyes lost their remoteness and usual aloofness and were beaming.

"I am happy that I helped you, Scarlett. Now nobody has a right to degrade you like your former husband did. He tormented you so much," Mathieu pronounced tartly. He was still lying weak and forlorn in the bed, and Scarlett's heart collapsed.

"Don't remember him, Mathieu. He doesn't deserve to be mentioned in this conversation."

"Do you seriously think so?" he questioned and glanced at and through her interrogatively, with that such a familiar cat-at-a-mouse-hole gaze. "Look at me, Scarlett. Look at me, darling."

"Mathieu, I am fine," she replied and forced a vague smile.

"You have become good at hiding your true feelings under indifference and courtesy, but not from me, Scarlett," Mathieu growled, being dissatisfied. "You still love him."

"It doesn't matter now, Mathieu. I am your wife," Scarlett said. Her emerald eyes, warm and apologetic, locked with his hazel orbs, sparkling in the semidarkness of the room.

"Scarlett, you will become a widow soon. Tell me… will you return to Rhett?" Mathieu's jaw clenched and his face muscles strained as he was again struggling with pain in his spine and bones.

"I don't plan to do it, Mathieu. I despise him for what he had done."

"You love him, Scarlett. Remember that you can get back to him only if he makes the first steps and proves his love. Don't act like a masochist and torment yourself again," Mathieu pronounced slowly.

"Thank you, Mathieu. I won't throw myself at him again. I have my own pride," Scarlett's lips parted as she sighed and she twisted her hands on her lap.

"Good, darling… If I wasn't so sick, I would try to make you happy and to make you love me," Mathieu prattled. Each word was said so slowly and with such an effort that Scarlett's green eyes filled with tears streaming down her cheeks.

She felt the painful tightening of her chest and the shocking feeling as if her heart had suddenly ceased to beat. "Mathieu, I don't want you to die."

"There is nothing that can save me. Heaven calls for me," he smiled sadly.

"I will take care of Charles, as I promised. As long as I can talk, walk, and breathe, I will keep an eye on him," Scarlett said as she saw a restful peace enlacing Mathieu's nearly white face. She saw that his final hour was very close. She looked into his soft, kind hazel eyes again and gripped his hand in gratitude and sharp feeling of warmth to this dying man who saved her and her children's life.

"Thank you, my dear. Annabelle will help you in everything. She loves you so much…" he babbled and closed his eyes. He sighed heavily and opened his eyes again.

"I know, Mathieu. I love her too," she declared and added, "And I love you too."

"You love me as a friend, don't you?" Mathieu's eyes grew wide and sparkled with unshed tears. His jaw clenched tightly, and he moaned in pain.

"Yes, Mathieu, as a friend, and I love Charles. He is such a nice boy," she said truthfully.

"That's enough, darling. Now I can die in the dead calmness," he returned in a hoarse voice. "_Philippe Justin Robillard-Arden, 8th Duke of Aylesbury_…"

She glanced at him. "What, Mathieu?"

"The Duke of Aylesbury…" Mathieu stumbled with words. He was very weak.

"What?"

"Scarlett, promise me to keep in touch with him. He is a good person. He will always help you and protect you if necessary. The Duke of Aylesbury and _Jean-Baptiste Edmond Alexandre de Robillard,_ _13th Count de Bréveaux_, are the first people you should ask for help if something happens," Mathieu said with an effort. His face blanched even more. He looked like a ghost of ghosts. He swallowed hard and added: "I did everything that I could."

"I know, Mathieu. I greatly appreciate everything you did for me. Also, I like the Duke of Aylesbury, and with a great pleasure I will continue our friendship." Scarlett was bewildered to hear what Mathieu had just said, but she still promised this to him. Why did he ask her to continue her friendship with the Duke? Why with this man and not any other man? It was a mystery to her.

"Thank you, Scarlett. Now go, my dear, go," a verdict followed. "Please, go."

Scarlett sucked in her breath, wanting him with painful fierceness not to abandon her. "But Mathieu…" she half whispered.

"Go now to your daughters. Do what I ask, my dear. You are so beautiful…" Mathieu murmured and a single tear streamed down his pale cheek. His chest was heavy with sobs he tried to strangle in his inflamed throat. He felt how Scarlett bent down to him and kissed him in his lips. This was the second and the last kiss in lips they shared in their matrimony - the first kiss was in the church. She put a head on his chest and was crying quietly.

"Thank you, Mathieu, for everything you have done for me, darling," Scarlett murmured, her head buried in his chest. Her face was pressed close against his chest. She raised her head and saw that tears trembled in Mathieu's hazel eyes.

"Scarlett, go to your daughters. They need you. Go now," he commanded in a hoarse voice. "Now."

"Yes, Mathieu, I am going. Please, take your rest. I will return in an hour," she subdued to his requests.

Scarlett kissed him on his cheek and looked into his eyes again. She stood for the while gazing at him, deeply in his eyes, and he returned her look, as though she was giving him a farewell blessing. She went on her wheels and headed to the door, when an array of admonition went through her and stopped her movement. She dashed back to the bed and leaned down to Mathieu's body. His eyes were closed, and his hands were clapped on his wide chest. She felt no pulse on his wrists and on his neck. Scarlett's heart screamed in pain and sorrow as the realization came on her – Mathieu was dead. She buried her head on his chest and cried out her tears until they dried. Annabelle discovered Scarlett in the same position.

_Mathieu Paul Louis de Harlay de Champvallon, 13th Marquis de Bréval_, died in October 1874, a few months after the birth of Scarlett's daughters. His son Charles became _Charles Louis Nicolas de Harlay de Champvallon, 14th Marquis de Bréval and 15th Baron de Montglat_. Mathieu's death became a very sad event for Scarlett and French beau monde. Although his death was not an unexpected event for Scarlett, it brought to her a multitude of painful memories from her past. Again she felt pain and sorrow. She had great gratitude and friendship to Mathieu, who took care of her and saved her from disgrace and humiliation when nobody was able to do it. However, Scarlett didn't love him as a man – she loved him as a very dear friend. She desperately wished him to live because he was a great man, distinguished and honorable, kind and inclined to self-sacrifice. However, now Scarlett could change nothing. Mathieu died because he was sick and nobody could have saved him, which was confirmed by numerous highly competent doctors. His death resulted in a tiny part of Scarlett's heart being ripped out of her chest. Mathieu will always live in her memory together with the pain for the loss of him.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

**Scarlett's life in Europe after Mathieu's death**

Scarlett was annoyed with was the necessity to be in mourning for at least half a year. She was grieving for the loss of Mathieu, but she hated wearing black. Mourning should be in hearts and in souls and not necessarily in clothes, she mused. Eventually, Scarlett stopped wearing her mourning gowns in six months after her husband's death, which was quite early in accordance with general society rules. Scarlett organized the ball to reintroduce herself to the French beau monde together with her small daughters, Blanche and Isabelle, which turned out to have a great success and brought to Scarlett a new wave of popularity and admiration in the Parisian society.

The next six months after Mathieu's death proved to be absolutely stunning and pleasant. Scarlett traveled across Europe and attended numerous balls, charity events, which she still considered quite boring, rather useful for her reputation, as well as lots of cultural events. She really liked art exhibitions and visited museums and other places of interest wherever she traveled. At the same time, she not only wanted, but had to follow this lifestyle, so typical and fashionable for aristocratic Europe. In general, her life was rich for events and activities, and she had no time to be bored. Scarlett was living luxury life of the princess and was trying to give the same to her daughters, as well as to Mathieu's son Charles.

"My life is not boring and laidback, like that in Charleston. It is funny that Rhett intends to live in this boring city," Scarlett mused, mocking at Rhett's desire to become a proper gentleman. "I wonder whether Rhett still lives in Charleston. It is funny that he pretends to be an honorable gentleman he will never become."

The happiest part of her life was devoted to her precious daughters. Her love to them was pure, unconditional, and unearthly. Being inflamed with love, Scarlett began to understand Rhett's strong love to Bonnie and their daughter's idolization by her former husband. She adored and spoiled her daughters as much as she could. However, she tried to stay in certain frames of spoiling the girls in order to be able to control their behavior in the society-acceptable rules and standards. She didn't want to spoil them like Rhett spoiled Bonnie when she thought that everything she wanted and desired she would undoubtedly have, which eventually turned out to contribute significantly to her death in the horse accident. Scarlett couldn't this happen with Blanche and Isabelle. Spending time with children and devoting her own life entirely to her daughters' life, Scarlet matured and appreciated the pleasant aspects of motherhood and managed to become a good mother, caring and kind, devoted and unconditionally loving her children. She still felt guilt that she was never such a kind of mother to Bonnie, her little blue-eyed princess. However, Scarlett was happy that Heaven gave her another chance to try herself in the role of the mother, and she believed that Bonnie watched her profound success in becoming a real mother from Heaven.

Scarlett hired a private tutor to master her abilities in French and in fact talked to Charles and the servants in her Parisian mansion in French quite a lot in her everyday life. It wasn't an easy task, but Scarlett was a very good, fast, and stubborn learner if she wanted something badly. The O'Hara and Robillard blood was streaming in her veins and, stubborn and persevering, she always got what she wanted, except for the situation with Rhett whom she began to consider lost forever. In French she especially liked pronunciation, which was so unusual as compared to English, but she truly enjoyed it. As Scarlett had already been introduced to the French upper-class society of both new and old aristocrats, she managed to make some friends and also tried to talk to them in French.

Interested in her genealogy, Scarlett learnt the history of the Robillards in Europe. The Robillard noble house is one of the oldest in Europe and can be traced back up to seven hundred years ago. The most ancient family _the_ _Robillard Family de Torce_ originated from Scarlett O'Hara Hamilton Kennedy Butler in the north-west of France, which is considered as one of the six Celtic nations. Bretagne at first was a kingdom and then a duchy, but it was annexed by France as a province in the 16th century.

Scarlett learnt the history of the Robillards in Europe. The Robillard noble house is one of the oldest in Europe and can be traced back up to seven hundred years ago. The most ancient family _the_ _Robillard Family de Torce_ originated from Bretagne in the north-west of France, which is considered as one of the six Celtic nations. Bretagne at first was a kingdom and then a duchy, but it was annexed by France as a province in the 16th century. _The_ _Robillard Family de Torce_ are known to be the grandparents to _the_ _Robillard de Champagne family_ and related to _de Lucye family_ and _the_ _Plantagenets_ descending from its founder _Geoffroy V of Anjou_, _Count of Anjou, Touraine, and Maine. _Later, in the 13th-14th century three other branches were divided from_ the Robillard de Champagne family_, including _Bréveaux_, _Beaurepaire_, and _Magnanville_, while the original _Champagne_ branch turned extinct. As a result of numerous relocations and migrations within the territory of France on the back of feudal wars and territorial disputes, the Robillards no longer lived only in _Champagne_ and settled in _Normandie_, both in _Upper Normandie _and_ in Lower Normandie_, as well as in_ Maine_.

Over time, somehow the nobles from the same family in _Champagne_ divided into three new families or branches of the same initial family. It happened somewhere between the 13th and the 14th centuries. One of the first known Robillards, the founder of the Robillard noble house in France was _Jean Jacques Antoine de Robillard, 1st Baron de La Mancellière_, who settled down in the _Manche_ region of _Lower_ _Normandie_ at the early beginning of the 14th century. As a result, in the 15th century the Robillard noble house had three branches: _Bréveaux, Beaurepaire_, and_ Magnanville_. Formally they weren't connected with each other, although all had originated in _Champagne_ many years ago. The Robillard-Bréveaux branch held the title of _Count de Bréveaux_. The Robillard-Magnanville branch held the title of _Baron de Magnanville_. The Robillard-Beaurepaires held the title of _Baron de_ _Beaurepaire._ The Robillard-Bréveaux noble house was the largest one and included a lot of noble Robillards. The Robillard-Magnanville house and the Robillard-Beaurepaire house were smaller. Moreover, the Robillard-Bréveaux house was the richest among the branches. There was also the Robillard-Champagne branch.

As time was passing, the Robillards continued to relocate and settle down in various regions of the country. As a result, in 1876 many of the Robillards resided in Paris, mostly the Bréveauxs and the Beaurepaires. Many others lived in such provinces of France, especially in _Normandie, _in _Languedoc,_ and in _Midi-Pyrénées_. The majority of the Robillard-Bréveauxs spent the most time of the year in Paris. The Robillard-Bréveaux house was very rich, and its representatives had numerous estates and houses in France and in Europe. Many of the Bréveauxs were involved in business operations and heavily invested their fortune.

Therefore, the Robillards were pure old French aristocrats. Their blood was leaking in the veins of English kings from the royal dynasty _the House of Plantagenet_ founded in the 12th century. Most likely, the Robillards' nobility was acquired through _"holding the offices" _because many of their ancestors were known to be holding various positions in the juridical commissions, courts, and Robillard-Bréveaux house became chevaliers in the 15th century, so that their nobility is old nobility _-_ _Noblesse d'épée_.

The Robillard-Bréveaux noble house at first included only chevaliers and later, in the middle of the 16th century, was rewarded with the title of _Count de Bréveaux. _Depending on their place in the age and the bloodline for the inheritance of the title – the elder, the closer in the bloodline as the heir, the male members of the Robillard family also held other titles: the courtesy title_ Viscount de Saint-Ouen_, which belonged to the future holder of the title of the count, and the titles of_ Baron du Boismancellet_, _Baron_ _de La Mancellière_, and _Baron de La Fresnaye._

Therefore, Scarlett's ancestors from the French Robillards were old noble French aristocrats. Scarlett's heart was hammering as she learnt the history of her French relatives when Annabelle and other Robillards told her about it. She was proud of her ancestors.

The recent history of the Robillard family began from _Jacques Louis Auguste de Robillard,_ _11th Count de Bréveaux_, _14th Baron de La Mancellière, 16th Baron du Boismancellet_, and _16th_ _Baron de La Fresnaye._

He had three sons – _Alexandre Louis Auguste,_ _Arnaud Louis Claude_, and _Antoine Charles Victor._ Alexandre was the oldest brother, Antoine – the youngest. Later, all of them had their own families and children. Among his children, Alexandre had _Jean-Baptiste Edmond Alexandre, _future_ 13th Count de Bréveaux_. Among his many children, Arnaud had his son _Pierre Jacques Alexandre_, future Pierre Robillard who migrated to the States. Jean-Baptiste and Pierre were cousins. Pierre and Jean-Baptiste had the same grandfather – Jacques.

_Alexandre Louis Auguste de Robillard,_ _12th Count de Bréveaux_ _and 17th Baron de La Fresnaye; Arnaud Louis Claude de Robillard de Bréveaux, 17th Baron du Boismancellet_; and _Antoine Charles Victor de Robillard de Bréveaux, 15th Baron de La Mancellière _were referred to as "AAA" in the high society of France. Alexandre and Arnaud were courtiers at _King Louis XVI and Queen Marie Antoinette_'s court. All AAA were arrested and imprisoned at the Conciergerie. Later they were guillotined, becoming the victims of _the French Revolution of 1789_. Having decided to stay in France, loyal to their King and the Queen, AAA made their children and their wives escape France to England and transferred money in gold to several English banks. The Robillards returned to France at the beginning of the 19th century at the time of _Napoleon I's_ reign.

In Paris, Scarlett was introduced to her grandfather Pierre's old first cousin - _Jean-Baptiste Edmond Alexandre de Robillard,_ _13th Count de Bréveaux_.

Jean-Baptiste had three living brothers – Gaspard, Jules, and Luc. Jean-Baptiste's youngest brother Gerard died many years ago. Jean-Baptiste's only living sister was Yolande. His other two sisters died in early childhood.

Scarlett was also presented to his wife _Adelaide Melanie Estelle de Saint-Germain, Countess de Bréveaux, _their daughters _Diane Marie Josephine de Robillard de Bréveaux, Marquise de Château-Renault, _and _Josephine Thérèse Gertrude de Robillard de Bréveaux, Viscountess de Barras_.

Jean-Baptiste's son and former_ 15th Viscount de Saint-Ouen_, _Adrien Jacques Alexandre de Robillard de Bréveaux _died in 1871 on the back of the clashes between the Monarchists and the Republicans several years ago when the second and _the Second French Empire _defeated in 1870.

Jean-Baptiste's son Adrien and his wife _Bernadette Leonie Françoise_ had three children - one son and two daughters. A young gentleman of thirty two years old, _Augustin Louis Alexandre de Robillard de Bréveaux_, was now _16th_ _Viscount de Saint-Ouen _and the future holder of the title. The names of Adrien's daughters were _Cécile Gabrielle Sabine _and _Angelique Louise Françoise. _Scarlett and Annabelle were in excellent relations with each of them.

Cécile and Annabelle de Robillard were known to be the most beautiful woman among the Robillards in the Parisian high society. Scarlett was added in that list after she had relocated to Paris. However, Scarlett had always thought that Annabelle with her classic beauty of a Greek or a Roman Goodness was the most beautiful among all the Robillards. Scarlett, Cécile, and Annabelle were approximately of the same age.

Jean-Baptiste's grandson _Augustin Louis Alexandre _married _Simone Françoise Marie-Madeleine de La Mothe Houdecourt, Viscountess de Saint-Ouen_. They had six children in total – four boys and two girls. If taking into account the children of his other children, Jean-Baptiste had many great grandchildren.

Jean-Baptiste's daughter_ Josephine Thérèse Gertrude _had three daughters –_ Elisabeth Renée Amelie,_ _Yvonne Marie Madeleine_, and_ Gabrielle Elisabeth Sophie_, and a son _Gustave Gaspard Henri. Diane Gabrielle Victoire _had two sons - _Jean-Baptiste Felix Hubert _and_ Alexandre Louis August_, born as twins, as well as two daughters_ Lucie Madeleine Henriette_ and _Valerie Nicole Anne._

Jean-Baptiste's youngest brother was _Gerard Augustin Bernard de Robillard de Bréveaux, 18th_ _Baron de La Fresnaye, _died more when forty years ago. He was quite young at that time. Gerard left only one son Vincent - _Vincent Gaspard Pierre de Robillard de Bréveaux._ Unfortunately, Vincent also died around ten years ago. Vincent had only one daughter - _Annabelle Françoise Julienne de Robillard de Bréveaux_, _Countess de Morville,_ Scarlett's charming third cousin. Annabelle was the only surviving child in the family: some were stillborn, while her sister and brother died in early childhood after the epidemic of smallpox in _Normandie_ where Annabelle spent her childhood. Annabelle's mother _Gwendolyn Rosamond Cunningham_ descended from Scottish aristocrats and was the youngest daughter of the Earl of Glencairn - _James William Cunningham, 17th Earl of Glencairn. _Annabelle was half French, half Scottish, but French in her soul, as she usually spoke. The nobility of her mother's family in Scotland was very old, dated back to 15th century, and hence her blood was noble on both sides – French and Scottish. By the middle of 1850s, the title of the Earl of Glencairn went extinct due to the absence of the legal male heirs.

Scarlett became very close friends with Annabelle. Amusingly, she was only six months younger than Scarlett, who was so much alike Scarlett as ladies discovered. Scarlett was completely happy with their sincere friendly relationship.

Scarlett was also introduced to _Jules Augustin Victor de Robillard-Bréveaux de Cahideuc, 8th Marquis du Bois de La Motte._ He was Jean-Baptiste's younger brother_. _Jules inherited this title from the father of his wife Nathalie, which was necessary because there were no close legal heirs for the title: _7th Marquis Guillaume du Bois de La Motte_ was one of _Napoleon III's_ ministers and managed to secure the inheritance of the title by his only child – his daughter Nathalie. Together with his wife _Nathalie Simone Renée de Cahideuc, Marquise du Bois de La Motte,_ they had their three sons: _Philippe René Louis_, _9th_ _Viscount de Loullane _– he was the heir to the title of Marquis; _Guillaume Dominique Louis,_ and_ Victor Louis Henri_. They also had one daughter _Julie Louisa Delphine_.

Two other men, also Jean-Baptiste's younger brothers, were _Gaspard Felix Jacques de Robillard de Bréveaux, 17th Baron du Boismancellet; _and _Luc Edmond Jean-Jacques de Robillard de Bréveaux_, _18th_ _Baron_ _de La Mancellière._ Scarlett was also presented to their wives _Emma Louise Caroline _and _Marie Desiree Renée_, as well as to their children.

Jean-Baptiste's brother_ Luc Edmond Jean-Jacques de Robillard de Bréveaux_, _18th_ _Baron_ _de La Mancellière,_ had two daughters - _Yolande Martine Gabrielle_ and _Yvette Maria Thérèse_ – and a son -_Marc Antoine Louis_. Luc, his wife, their daughter Yolande and her family lived in the South of France in Toulouse, while their daughter Yvette lived in _Normandie_. His son Marc left France for Spain several years ago and lived in Madrid at that time.

Luc had five grandchildren, among whom was _Noëlle Marie Rosalie de Robillard de Bréveaux, Marquise d'Entrecasteaux_. Noëlle was the daughter of Luc's son Marc who lived in Spain. Also, Noëlle was known as the Queen of the South of France and as an epitome of beauty and aristocracy. Very few people knew that Noëlle and Armand, magnificent _ash blonde Adonis _of Paris, had loved each other for years and secretly had two children. They couldn't marry because Luc and his son Marc wanted Noëlle to secure the title of a Marquise at least, while Armand was just the second son of _Duke de Roannais_ and thus only used one of the Duke's other titles - _Count de Maulevrier_. So they forced young Noëlle to marry old _Marquis d'Entrecasteaux_. Only Annabelle de Robillard, who was Noëlle's very close friend and confident, knew about that sad love story. Later Scarlett also became Noëlle's friend and learnt the truth.

Jean-Baptiste's brother _Gaspard Felix Jacques de Robillard de Bréveaux, 17th Baron du Boismancellet_, lived almost the whole year in _Normandie_ and was rarely seen in Paris. He had two children_ – _a son _Guillaume Louis Athanase _and one daughter _Henriette Juliette Celestine_. Gaspard's son Guillaume had five children: two daughters _Alexandrine Claudine Felicite_ and _Jacqueline Marie Hortense; _and three sons - _Theodore Jacques Benjamin_,_ Jean Vincent Felix_, and _Arnaud Jacques Antoine_.

Henriette was married to _Duke de Roannais_, and her full name was _Henriette Juliette Celestine de Robillard de Bréveaux, Duchess de Roannais_. She had five sons and one daughter. One of her sons was young _Geoffroy Louis Victor d'Aubusson de La Feuillade, the heir of 9th Duke de Roannais _and_ 11th Marquis de Boisy_, Scarlett's infamous in Europe third cousin. He was the oldest one. A dashing, handsome, young dandy, Geoffroy was a well-known young nobleman and heir in the European upper-class society.

Henriette's another son was Geoffroy's twin brother born half an hour later than Geoffroy himself. He was _Armand Louis Charles d'Aubusson de La Feuillade_, _14th Count de Maulevrier_. Being very handsome young man, Armand had natural hair of inimitable ash blonde color, which sumptuously underlined general exclusiveness and flamboyance of his appearance. Armand's appearance was so memorable, so handsome, and so prominent that he was justifiably nicknamed as _"ash blonde Adonis"_ by beau monde. Armand was one of the most beautiful young gentlemen in the European high society.

Scarlett liked Armand and Geoffroy very much, and they returned her friendly affection by spending much time with Annabelle and her. Geoffroy, Armand, Annabelle, and Scarlett became close friends over time. Twins Geoffroy and Armand often accompanied Scarlett and Annabelle to the private parties and the gambling clubs in Paris and in London. Such private parties could be rather scandalous and inappropriate, but were at times visited by both Scarlett and Annabelle. Geoffroy and Armand also got acquainted Scarlett with many of their friends, some of whom organized absolutely unbelievable parties at Parisian mansions. There was one party which was most remembered by Scarlett: during the party half of the time roses, violets, and lilies were falling on the floor across the entire ballroom. This stunningly beautiful rain of rose-leaves, violet-leaves, and lily-leaves accompanied all the dances and midnight card party. There also was one party when only lilies were flying on the floor in the ballroom, and it was organized by Geoffroy and his twin brother Armand, _ash blonde Adonis _of Paris_._ Being well-known in Europe art worshipers Geoffroy and Armand frequently accompanied both Scarlett and Annabelle to numerous art events, exhibitions, and art actions.

Geoffroy and Armand hired a private dance teacher for Scarlett to teach her how to dance _Allemande_, _Coranto_, and _Galliard_ from the Renaissance period, which could still have been heard in French ballrooms, especially in the South of France; _Minuet, Gavotte, Rigaudon, Courante, Bourrée, _and _Canary_ from the baroque dances that were developed at the French court in the 17th century and were still quite popular in many French ballrooms; some of English country dances, like contra and square dance, which helped Scarlett especially on the private parties in the ton of England where these dances were almost always danced by the guests; some other elegant French dances; the _mazurka_, which was Polish folk dance and was popular in many ballrooms in different parts of Europe. Being great dancers, Geoffroy, Annabelle, and Armand also devoted much time to practice dancing with Scarlett.

"I cannot dance _Minuet_!" Scarlett complained. "I cannot remember these short steps by heart."

"You will remember over time," Armand objected with a warm smile. "I promise."

"Scarlett, look at me," Annabelle commanded. "Geoffroy and I are making a new _Minuet_ step."

"How graceful you are moving!" Scarlett exclaimed.

"Yes, it is so," Geoffroy agreed. "Look at us and try to do the same with Armand."

"Scarlett, we must try now," Armand's voice sounded loudly in Scarlett's ears.

"Let's do it." Scarlett obediently took Armand's right hand. "I will copy Annabelle and Geoffroy's movements. I also remembered some of the _Minuet_ figures."

"Good," Armand answered delightedly. "I will direct you. Don't worry – simply relax and move."

"Thank you, Armand," Scarlett smiled at him.

"You are welcome, darling," Armand returned a lambent smile.

"Scarlett, _Minuet_ isn't the most difficult dance from the French court dances," Geoffroy said in a high, sonorous voice as he and Annabelle approached Armand and Scarlett in dance. "_Rigaudon_ is more difficult to learn and dance it properly."

"Oh!" Scarlett breathed.

"You will cope," Armand - _ash blonde Adonis_ - slipped a sly wink to Scarlett, and she felt herself relaxing.

It was truth that Scarlett would cope with the dances because soon she became a very good dancer and could perform almost all of the French court dances freely and graciously. Among all the learnt dances, the _mazurka_ was the easiest one to perform, with _Rigaudon_ and _Courante_ being the most difficult. Of course, practice with Geoffroy, Armand, and Annabelle helped Scarlett very much. Scarlett liked her dancing classes because she had always liked dancing.

Geoffroy and Armand also had three other younger brothers Raoul, and another pattern twins Claude and Fernand:_ Raoul Louis Andre d'Aubusson de La Feuillade, 15th Count de Secondigny; _twins_ Claude Louis François_ _d'Aubusson de La Feuillade, 14th Baron de Mirebeau, _and _Fernand Louis Auguste d'Aubusson de La Feuillade, 11th Baron de Gonnord._

_Duchess Henriette de Roannais_ also had a daughter _Catherine Louise Thérèse d'Aubusson de La Feuillade, Duchess de La Roche-Guyon. _Scarlett didn't like Catherine very much because of her extreme arrogance and artificial pomposity, which appeared after her marriage to the Duke de La Roche-Guyon.

Jean-Baptiste's only living sister was _Yolande Marguerite Marie_ _de Robillard de Bréveaux, Marquise de Combronde. _Yolande had six children, three of which died in early childhood. Only her two sons Julien and Adolphe survived - _Julien Pierre Claude de Brion, 11th Marquis de Combronde, _and _Adolphe Louis Raoul de Brion, 13th_ _Baron de Salvert. _Also, Yolande's daughter _Marie Charlotte Alexandrine de Brion, Viscountess de Vaux, _survived and married twice, having in total five children. Yolande had eight grandchildren in total.

Scarlett's grandfather Pierre Robillard had a different name in France: he was _Pierre Jacques Alexandre de Robillard de Bréveaux. _Pierre was married to Solange Robillard, the descendant of the migrated French aristocrats. Her original name was _Solange Charlotte Madeleine de La Celle de Châteaubourg_, and her grandfather was_ 8th Count de Châteaubourg. _Solange died many years ago. Solange had got married twice before she finally became Pierre's wife. She met Pierre in Savannah. She migrated to the States with her father, one of the sons of_ 8th Count de Châteaubourg_. In _the French Revolution of 1789_, Solange's parents had fled Haiti there they had a family plantation. Pierre met Solange in Savannah.

Pierre and Solange had three daughters – Ellen, Pauline, and Eulalie, or, if referring to the full names, _Ellen Marie Gabrielle_, _Pauline Emilie Mathilde_, and _Eulalie Thérèse Elisabeth_, all of whom were born and lived in the United States. It was strange for Scarlett to learn that her grandmother Solange, a pure French aristocratic lady, gave to her daughters these complicated French names, which were so difficult to remember; this fact only proved that Solange had always remained loyal to her French roots and traditions.

Pierre Robillard had two living brothers – Bernard and Nicolas – and one living sister – Elisabeth. Bernard was older than Pierre, while Nicolas was a younger brother for Pierre. Jean-Baptiste's youngest brother Christophe died many years ago. Another Pierre's sister _Constance Louise Françoise de Robillard de Bréveaux Arden _was married to the English aristocrat and died many years ago. Constance was the Duke of Aylesbury's mother. Pierre's sister _Caroline Marie Eugenie_ died in 1870. Caroline's children also died in early childhood, and nobody was left after her death.

In Paris Scarlett was introduced to _Nicolas Charles Louis_ _de Robillard de Bréveaux_ and his wife _Catherine Constance Eugenie_, as well as to their children and grandchildren. Nicolas had two sons – _Alphonse Louis Pierre_ and _Alexandre Louis Gabriel_, as well as one daughter _Charlotte Marie Josephine_.

Pierre Robillard's elder brother Bernard – _Bernard Claude Jacques de Robillard de Bréveaux_, _19th_ _Baron de La Fresnaye –_ didn't live in France. Bernard, his wife, and their children had lived in Vienna in Austro-Hungary for the last twenty years, so that Scarlett couldn't meet this Pierre's brother in Paris. Bernard's son _Ambroise Jacques Philippe _often traveled and resided in Nice, the South of France. His family also lived in Nice.

Having widowed several years ago, Bernard's son _Antoine Jacques Gabriel_ also lived in Vienna and had several children who lived with them. Bernard's daughter _Anne Charlotte_ _Emilie _lived in _Normandie_ in France with her husband. His daughter_ Angelique Claudine Louise _got married to German aristocrat and lived Berlin. Being an old maid, Bernard's daughter_ Virginie Antoinette Pauline_ also lived in Vienna with her parents.

Bernard's son _Antoine Jacques Gabriel _was married to _Louise Antoinette Thérèse_. They had two daughters – _Clementine Louise Henriette _and_ Jeanne Antoinette Laurentine_. Clementine lived with the parents in Vienna. Being the youngest daughter, Clementine was not married. His daughter Jeanne married the Austrian aristocrat and also lived in Vienna. Antoine's sons _Jerome Louis Antoine_ and _Jean-Jacques Claude Antoine_ lived in Austro-Hungary.

Living in France, Pierre's sister _Elisabeth Charlotte Josephine _was also delighted to meet Scarlett when Scarlett and Annabelle once came to _Normandie_ in order to visit the Robillard family chateau _Saint-Ouen-le-Pin_. Of course, Scarlett was also presented to Elisabeth's family. She had three sons - _Pierre-Jacques Claude Augustin_, _Arnaud Jean Nicolas_, and _Thierry Tristan Arnaud_. Elisabeth and all her children with their families lived in _Normandie_, except for Thierry who lived in _Reims_ in _Marne_, _Champagne-Ardenne_ region of France. Thierry was working for the Duke of Aylesbury there: Aylesbury owned a major stake in the Laurent-Perrier Group, champagne house in France based in _Tours-sur-Marne_ in _Champagne._

Another interesting for Scarlett person was _Christophe Louis Arnaud de Robillard de Bréveaux, _the youngest among Pierre's brothers, or Christophe Robillard, as he was usually referred to without _de_ after his departure to the United States together with his older brother Pierre a long time ago. Like Pierre, Christophe was married to a true French aristocrat _G__eneviève Marguerite Marie-Louise de Félix du Muy de Grignan_, who descended from _6th Marquis du Muy and 7th Count de Grignan._ Both Christophe and his wife Geneviève died rather young. _Philippe Julien Louis de Robillard_ _de Bréveaux_ in European variant or _Philippe Julien Louis Robillard_ in the American variant or simply _Philippe Robillard_, whom Scarlett knew as her mother Ellen's only true love, was Christophe and Geneviève's only son.

Christophe and Pierre were the only two people from the Robillards who decided to strike roots in the Confederacy and as a result settled in Savannah. There was also a sizeable migration from the Robillards to the colonies in the 17th century, mainly to Québec, Canada. These migrants were not from the Robillard-Bréveaux noble house and were related to the other Robillards.

Jean-Baptiste and Pierre also had several first cousins. Being Jean-Baptiste and Pierre's second uncle, _Antoine Charles Victor _had two sons named _Edouard Louis Antoine de Robillard de Bréveaux _and _Michel Jean Donatien de Robillard de Bréveaux._

Edouard died many years ago and had three sons – _Philippe Louis Edouard, Arnaud_ _René Victor, _and _Jacques Edouard Maurice_, as well as one daughter who was_ Marguerite Marie Gabrielle de Robillard de Bréveaux_, _Duchess de Ventadour, _who lived in London with her son from the first marriage - _Patrick Walter_ _Campbell_, _8th Earl of Marchmont_, while her other children from the second marriage with Duke de Ventadour didn't reside in England: her daughter lived in France and her son served as the ambassador of France in China.

_Michel Jean Donatien de Robillard de Bréveaux _also died more than ten years ago. His wife_ Marie Françoise Mathilde _also died. However, Michel's children were alive. Scarlett was introduced to Michel's family, including his daughters -_ Melanie Marie Anne _and_ Marie Catherine Françoise, _and his two sons -_ Donatien Claude Armand _and_ Jean Louis Charles. _Like Jean-Baptiste's son Adrien, Michel's son_ Felix Jean Olivier _died in 1871 on the back of the clashes between the Monarchists and the Republicans.

Of course, Scarlett constantly met _Philippe Justin Robillard-Arden, 8th Duke of Aylesbury_, because Jean-Baptiste loved him very much and often invited him to his house in Paris and Toulouse. This man seemed to have a special, exclusive status of the beloved relative for the Robillards: Philippe was the only son of Jean-Baptiste's youngest sister _Constance Louise Françoise de Robillard de Bréveaux_ _Arden_, married English aristocrat _Richard Russell Arden_, whose elder brother _Jordan Theodore Arden _was 7th Duke of Aylesbury. His mother Constance, who was one of the French Robillards, died many years ago.

Scarlett was also introduced to Philippe's family. They also often met in the society in London, Paris, Toulouse, or Rome, and they friendship continued. They talked, danced, and laughed. They always had good time together. The Duke of Aylesbury liked meeting Scarlett's daughters and, if he was in Paris, often escorted her to _Jardin des Tuileries _for a walk with the children. He also spent much time with Annabelle.

There were so many interesting, intelligent, highbred members of the Robillard family in France that every time Scarlett thought about that she had questioned why her grandfather Pierre hadn't communicated with his French relatives. When she asked about the reason, everybody referred to Pierre's difficult, unusual character, his departure to the States and separate life from his French relatives, as well as his general unwillingness to keep loyalty to his historical roots.

Few representatives of the Robillard-Beaurepaire noble house were distant relatives for the Robillards-Bréveaux. Most well-known of them was _Eugène Hippolyte de Robillard, Chevalier de la Légion d'Honneur _and_ 12th Baron de Beaurepaire. _He married _Anne Sophie-Antoinette Arondel de La Bréhoulière, _and they had only one daughter. Therefore, the title and the name may have turned extinct soon. Eugene had two brothers Charles-Marie and Joseph and one sister Pauline, the only surviving female and still unmarried.

There was also the Robillard-Magnanville branch. The most famous representative of this branch of the Robillards appeared to be _Jacques Edmond Robillard de Magnanville, Baron de Magnanville. _He had served as the head of _Banque de France_ for several years. His marriage produced no children, so that the title of _Baron de Magnanville_ was on the verge of turning extinct.

Scarlett had the closest relations with Annabelle. Both Annabelle and Scarlett had quite scandalous reputation in the European society due to their past three marriages, Scarlett's divorce, and numerous rumors about their presumable love affairs. They were known as blackguards from their feet to the crown, but they didn't care about it. They always spoke boldly when other were keeping silent, being confused or embarrassed. They acted against society rules at times in an openly extravagant manner, and the society was gossiping about them. However, they still accepted them wholeheartedly because the rules of the European society were quite alleviated and because there was a certain kind of attraction in how boldly and bizarrely Annabelle and Scarlett undertook their aristocratic roles, often acting belligerently, in an inimitable, provoking manner.

Charles, Mathieu's son, was deeply affected by his father's death. Scarlett tried to help Charles as much as she could and managed to build working friendly relationship with the boy. Charles was also very fond of Scarlett and, of course, respected her as his father's honored widow. They were getting on well and were engaged in a lot of mutual activities. Scarlett tried to be a mother for the boy and treated him equally with her own blood children. It was not easy for such a selfish person as Scarlett undoubtedly was, but she was so grateful to Mathieu, Charles's father, that she simply could not disregard the boy.

"Charles, darling, how are you doing? You are sad and again missed breakfast," Scarlett asked and smiled at the boy.

Charles looked very sad. Scarlett saw some unshed tears in his hazel eyes. She hugged him in a friendly way.

"I remembered my father… He liked when we were sitting in this room," Charles said humbly. "Dear Charles, it is the past and you have a great future ahead. You know that your father would have never approved that of your isolation from the outside world for such a long time. Your father is looking at you from Heaven and he is sad now," Scarlett said. She tried to encourage the boy to return to normal life.

"Aunty Scarlett, I know," Charles said dolefully. "My father would be yelling at me now. He would be unhappy with my behavior."

"Well, Charles, you should do as your father would have wanted you to do. You are his only son. You should live and show the whole world that the young _14th_ _Marquis Charles de Bréval _is the dignified successor of his father's title," Scarlett said as she knew that the fact of nobility meant much for the young boy who was raised to exhibit strong aristocratic manners and to have noble ideas and principles.

"I agree. I am carrying the honor and the title of the Harlay-Champvallons. I must be strong," Charles said.

"Excellent!" Scarlett cried out.

Charles laughed. He hugged Scarlett's small frame. "Is there still something left for breakfast, at least a piece of bread?"

"They will cook whatever you wish. Just let me know, and I will arrange everything, Charles. You know that you are the man of the house now," Scarlett answered and hugged the boy in response.

"I am the man of the house, really? Don't be anxious, Aunty Scarlett. I will protect you, Blanche and Isabelle, and Annabelle. You won't be ashamed of me, Aunty Scarlett. I swear with my title and my father's heart that I will be a reliable successor of our family," Charles said proudly. He seemed to be encouraged by Scarlett's words.

"I know, my dear. I have no doubt in it. I am so glad that we are under your protection," Scarlett concluded with a sweet, sincere smile, joy creeping into her voice.

With Annabelle, Scarlett attended numerous balls, charity bazaars, and private parties when she flirted with numerous men who liked her and pursued her with the aim to win her affections. Scarlett enjoyed that and contemplated her beauty and her triumph with a feeling of great proud and even self-worship. Having matured in many aspects, nevertheless, Scarlett still was that young spoiled Southern belle, who was quite self-absorbed and, of course, liked men's attention to her unique person. It was natural that such a unique, unparalleled woman had many admires and worshipers. .

Scarlett was travelling actively across Europe. She was attending different balls in London, Paris, Rome, Venetia, Zurich, Geneva, and even some charity events in Madrid. Her life was exiting and fulfilled with the things she had never done before when she lived at Tara and Atlanta. Rich and impregnated life of hers resulted in buying several new properties, being usually castles or chateaus with vast holdings of land around, like her chateau near Toulouse in _Midi-Pyrénées_ in the South of France. With her daughters Isabelle and Blanche, as well as with Charles, Scarlett usually spent three-four months of the summer in her chateau near Toulouse. Annabelle always accompanied them and often stayed with Scarlett at her chateau, although she also owned a charming chateau near Toulouse. Actually, many of the French Robillards had their estates in the South of France, either in _Midi-Pyrénées _or in _Languedoc_. Spending time with the children and Annabelle in their chateau in Salerno in the South of Italy, Scarlett and Annabelle were invited to attend the annual ball at the palace of his Grace _Vittorio Amedeo Alberto di Savoia, the Duke of Naples_. The Duke of Naples was an Italian aristocrat of royal blood as his half brother was _the King of Italy_ _Vittorio Emanuele II._ Vittorio was a very tall handsome man with medium brown eyes, with medium brown eyes, swarthy skin, and masculine body. He looked between forty and forty five. After the first meeting, the Duke of Naples appeared to have a strong infatuation with and lust for _Marquise Scarlett de Bréval,_ and thus gossips about Scarlett's love affair with the Duke started to spread in the high society of Europe. Although she indeed rejected the Duke's proclaimed undying passion to his utter frustration and they decided to stay on friendship beginnings, gossips have done their job and increased Scarlett's popularity significantly. Since that moment, Scarlett has been known among the beau monde of Europe as _the Marquise of Naples_, which both Annabelle and Scarlett treated as a funny thing which happened with Scarlett in Naples.

"Scarlett, his Grace _Vittorio Amedeo Alberto di Savoia, the Duke of Naples, _seems to be infatuated with you," Annabelle remarked.

Scarlett laughed merrily. "I know, but I don't care."

"Do you like him as a man?"

"Annabelle, you are asking me strange questions." In fact, Scarlett knew why Annabelle asked that question – the Duke of Naples had some features in appearance similar to Scarlett's former husband Rhett Butler.

Annabelle smiled cryptically. "Scarlett, I mean to cause no harm to your Southern virtues. I just asked whether you like his appearance."

Scarlett's green eyes turned thoughtful. "Well, the Duke of Naples is quite handsome, but he is a cad and a womanizer."

"It is a very truthful remark," Annabelle confirmed. "I will just recommend you to be careful with him."

Scarlett stared suspiciously at her. "What do you mean, darling?"

"I just mean that the Duke of Naples won't leave you in your solitude. He will continue pursuing you," Annabelle explained.

"Well, he can behave how he wants. As long as he is decent, it doesn't matter."

"I wanted to tell you that the Duke of Naples can be indecent if he really likes a woman. He is known to have many mistresses in many cities and countries of Europe. He has also fathered a lot of illegitimate children. He had never been married himself, and I doubt he is going to marry. What I wanted to say is that he is rumored to be a very passionate man. Darling, just be ready that his advances will continue. He might be quite insistent," Annabelle warned.

Scarlett smiled in gratitude. "Thank you for letting me know, darling."

"You are welcome."

Remarkably, Charles taught Scarlett to like art, resulting in the obsession with rare, both modern and ancient pieces of art which Scarlett bought to put them in Mathieu's old art gallery. They made those purchases on special charity events, art exhibitions, and art auctions by bidding for the pictures and for sculptures, which she liked the most. Scarlett didn't understand much in art, but she liked to buy beautiful, expensive pieces of art, and Charles and Annabelle helped her very much in that complicated for her task.

Scarlett and Charles, together with Annabelle, spent a lot of time at opera and theater. Scarlett liked opera very much, although she could not explain to herself the real reason behind her preference of opera over theater. She often took her precious daughters Blanche and Isabelle with them to attend various opera performances, most often at _Palais Garnier_ on _de l'Opéra Bastille_ in Paris. However, Scarlett didn't discover a feeling of enjoying literature, unless it was connected with business and money-making activities. In that aspect, she still was the old practical Scarlett. Maybe, it was partly due to the fact that she associated literature with ever-dreaming Ashley Wilkes whom she now pitied very much for his chronic inability to adjust to the reality.

Scarlett liked the South of France with its people of passion and energy, fun and joy, nothing boring as she saw in the traditional American South with its strict society rules for ladies and gentlemen. She has always felt hardly veiled scorn to the unduly strict society rules of the South, so ridiculous and funny. As a matter of fact, she liked Europe more than the South of the United States because rules and manners for the upper-class society in Europe were more relaxed in many senses as compared to the standards she had to follow in the South in order to be a great lady in its true sense.

* * *

_The genealogical analysis of the Robillard noble house is a historical fact. It took me a lot of time to trace it, but finally I succeeded. I was astonished that Mitchell's Robillards turned out to be indeed quite noble._

_The supposition that Scarlett's ancestors belonged to the Robillard-Bréveaux noble house is a fiction idea. They could also be the part of either the Robillard-Beaurepaires or the Robillard-Magnanvilles._


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

**Journey back home to the Old South and to Atlanta**

It was the chilly day of October 1875 in Paris. It was raining heavily outside, and the sky was dark and clouded. The gloomy weather turned the city into the dark kingdom of an underworld, and it seemed that there were no people outside in the streets. At the same time, Scarlett was standing near the window in the grand living room of her mansion on _Rue des Blancs Manteaux_ in _Le Marais._ Her internal mind was absorbed in the thoughts about her past life, and she was talking with herself loudly. Her frame of mind wasn't far from being very bright.

"I hate you, Rhett Butler. You are an impudent cad," Scarlett said aloud to herself, her voice trembling in the vortex of her feelings. "Maybe, I can stop loving him somehow."

"You won't stop loving him unless you meet another man who will be your perfect kindred spirit. Moreover, this man must be better than Rhett is. If it doesn't happen, you will eventually fall in Rhett's arms willingly or unwillingly as you are entirely blinded with temporary passion," Annabelle commented on Scarlett's internal monologue as she entered the room.

"God's nightgown!" Scarlett cried out in fear. "Hush up, Annabelle! Please, hush up!"

Annabelle broke into a thrill of a sarcastic laugh. "Darling, I am dumb and deaf if you don't want o hear the truth even from me."

Scarlett's cheeks tingled with indignation as tornado of anger flashed in her pale green eyes. "Thanks God that nobody has overheard my discreditable speech." She sighed.

"My dear Scarlett, my silence won't change the truth that you are still obsessed with this man," Annabelle said, trying to steady her shaking voice and fight the constriction in her throat. She sighed. "You won't forget him if you don't meet another kindred man who understands each undertone of your vivacious spirit that is temporary dead," she repeated.

"Probably, you are right, my darling," Scarlett replied thoughtfully.

Annabelle stepped closer to the sofa and settled there. Scarlett also sank into the nearest chair. A pause followed, rhythmic and plain. The grey eyes met the green eyes, but nobody dared to talk. Scarlett was wrapped in her memories about Rhett. Blanche and Isabelle were in the nursery with their nurse Amelie.

The reality claimed Scarlett and Annabelle back as they heard the voice of Scarlett's maid Leontine who had announced that her mistress had received an urgent telegram from the United States. The young woman gave the sheet of paper to her mistress and headed to the door. Once Leontine left, Scarlett looked attentively at the white envelope in her hands and paused for a while before opening it. She pressed the telegram tightly to her chest and sighed. As courage came back to her, she unfolded the list of paper and started to read. It was an urgent telegram from Henry Hamilton dated October 2, 1875.

_Dear Scarlett,_

_It has been such a long time since I heard from you last time. _

_I am sorry that I have to contact you and bring to you this sad news. Will Benteen told me that Mammy was very sick and can die any day. He asked me to contact you. Mammy asked for you. Hurry up to Atlanta._

_I also learnt from your lawyer in Savannah that your husband died some time ago. Please accept my sincere condolences for the loss of your husband._

_Hope to see you soon in Atlanta._

_Sincerely yours,_

_Henry Hamilton_

"Mammy is sick. She can die soon…" Her voice faded off, shaken.

Annabelle was sitting beside her friend, not close enough. She was watching Scarlett. "I am very sorry to hear this, Scarlett," she said.

"Mammy! My dear Mammy!" Scarlett cried out. "I am coming! Please, wait for me. Don't leave before I come back to Tara," she implored aloud as though Mammy had heard her. A wordless sound escaped her, thin and cut short, a sound of despair.

Annabelle leapt to her feet. She came closer to her and hugged about her shoulders from the back. "It appears we are going to the South of the United States very soon."

Scarlett raised her brows in question as she watched her friend closely. "Are you also going with me?"

"Of course, I am going with you. I won't let you go there alone," Annabelle said confidently.

Scarlett closed her eyes, and the beating of her heart grew gradually slower. She shook her head slowly, almost stunned. "Thank you, Annabelle. I would love to have you at my side in the United States."

Annabelle let out a short laugh. "Darling, how can I leave you now? Don't be so astonished."

Scarlett felt pale and flushed together, her lashes were moist. "Thank you, Annabelle," she murmured as she looked up at her dear third cousin.

Annabelle regarded her with a faint smile. "You are welcome, darling."

Having read the letter, Scarlett dropped her head in her sorrow and alarm for Mammy's destiny. Now Mammy, another and the only left connection with her childhood, was dying. It was hurting so much that Scarlett felt unable to breathe for an instance upon the realization of the necessity to go back to Georgia urgently in order to see and to embrace her old Mammy. With these thoughts in mind and desperate hope for not being late, she ordered the servants to help her packing. She also sent a letter to Henry Hamilton in order to warn him about her upcoming arrival.

Next day, as daylight crept across the sky, Scarlett, Annabelle, Isabelle, Blanche, and Charles, accompanied by their two nurses, left Paris for London, silent, weary and awake, very few words between them. In three days, they arrived in London early in the morning and settled comfortably at the Marchmont Hall, Marguerite de Robillard and the Earl of Marchmont's mansion in Mayfair. Next day they planned to board the ship for Charleston from Southampton. Marguerite warmly greeted Annabelle and Scarlett, and they spent the whole day together. Marguerite's son _Patrick Walter_ _Campbell_, _8th Earl of Marchmont, _was out of London in Scotland at the family's medieval castle when Scarlett and Annabelle arrived.

Annabelle came to her noiselessly, as a panther. "Are you tired, my darling?"

"No, just thinking."

"Surely you have heard the news about the Marquess of Malmesbury's suicide?"

Scarlett was looking ahead in the emptiness of the room. "No."

"It is discussed everywhere."

Scarlett's lips twitched in amusement. "I have heard nothing of the kind. How did this happen?"

"Malmesbury spent half a year in the debt prison. He was released and committed a suicide on the same day because he didn't have money to pay off the debt to the creditors who attacked him again."

"Poor man! What else is discussed in the society, Annabelle?"

"People are talking about several new adulteries, eminently about the love affair between the Marquess of Granby's wife and his secretary in the daytime in the Marquis's own house. Society is also expecting upcoming marriages, and one divorce may occur soon. Marquis de La Motte-Valois, the Duke of Sussex, the Duke of Aylesbury, the Earl of Macclesfield, the Earl of Desmond, Viscount Leeds, and Viscount Dunrossil are widely discussed to have new mistresses."

"It means that nothing has changed. The beau monde consists of respectable ladies loyal to their husbands, old maids, as well as of amoral, lightheaded butterflies fluttering their eyelashes picturesquely to catch a husband or a new lover. Also, social elite includes boring gentlemen, probably old ones; rich, dashing womanizers, an epitome of fashion, paying for love and avoiding matrimony bonds; poor empty-headed dandies searching for a fiancée with large dowry; old debauchees, either rich or poor," Scarlett said seriously and with asperity. "Maybe, it is even better to be a blackguard."

"Nothing will ever change. Thus breaching or living against society rules often erupts into the world of specific people, which is not so bad," Annabelle presumed, half sad, half bright expression touched her face. "The standards of the high society formed centuries ago. We can either accept or ignore them."

Scarlett's brows snapped together. "To whom we cannot dictate a sharp note of reprimand is the Duke of Aylesbury." She leaned her head back and sighed heavily.

"I agree. The Duchess of Aylesbury has a long record of love affairs, rather vulgar and scandalous. Recently she has been discovered in… erm… rather provocative moment on the Earl of Clermont's knees, her corset loosened, in the library of the Duke of Somerset's mansion on Upper Brook Street. Her scandalous life has always been flamboyant."

Scarlett drew a deep breath. "I am commiserating with the Duke of Aylesbury," she said compassionately. "It should be very difficult to have such a notorious, scandalous wife."

"Aylesbury himself doesn't live in celibacy," Annabelle parried with a sarcastic smile. "Believe me, darling, many women want to be with him and other rich, rakish men who can afford expensive kept mistress. His Grace the Duke of Aylesbury will never be alone."

"Aylesbury is an unusual person," Scarlett stated with confidence. A mocking gleam in the green eyes, she said dulcetly: "There is always a hint of scandal, of questionable ethics, of things better left unsaid around such people. Aren't we a good example? I mean you and me."

"Oh!" Annabelle sent to her a speaking glance.

Scarlett raised her brows. "Am I not right?"

Aware that she was being mocked, she said: "We are a perfect example, but still worse than many others are."

"Yes, indeed," Scarlett stated bluntly, a smile lifting one corner of her full mouth. "Even if Aylesbury is an out-and-out blackguard, he is still very kind and high-hearted."

"Of course," Annabelle replied easily. Her gaze swung back to Scarlett, the grey eyes studying her lean features intently and the facial expression. "Why are you so interested in him?"

"On his deathbed Mathieu demanded almost fiercely that I would keep in touch with Aylesbury. I complied. He stated that the Duke of Aylesbury would always help me and protect me."

"An interesting situation," Annabelle concluded.

"I trust so."

Torn between amusement and vexation, Annabelle threw a quizzical glance at Scarlett. "Have you thought why Mathieu did so?"

"You don't think that I am a fool, darling?" Scarlett grinned sheepishly. "I often think about that. I suppose they have always been very close friends. It would have explained everything."

"Most likely." Almost a note of awe in her voice, Annabelle admitted: "I can find no other explanation. But don't you think that Mathieu was correct in his assertions about Aylesbury? He is always around the Robillards and he is the Robillard by blood on his mother's side. I am sure Mathieu gave a good advice to you, Scarlett.."

Raising her eyes, Scarlett stared at Annabelle with a glazy gaze and a lackluster smile. "Positively, I agree with you," she replied, feeling inordinately pleased with the situation. "My God, Aylesbury wouldn't, under any circumstances, let someone offend me and lay a hand on me without my desire. Besides, I am fascinated by the eccentric things he is making. I daresay he is making reckless things: Victorian fashion with the leitmotiv of the 18th century in his shirts, extravagant horse races in his sporty perch-phaeton and bloodchillingly high wagers at gentlemen's clubs, which seem so sane and so effortless in his unique role that many London dandies break their necks or lose their fortunes in their foolish rush to emulate him."

"The Duke of Aylesbury is one of the most mysterious and subtly extravagant men I have ever me, and his sons are taking after him."

"I don't know but I am sure that there was something else behind Mathieu's request about Aylesbury," Scarlett speculated with certainty.

Annabelle shook her head as she disagreed with Scarlett. "I don't think so. Mathieu simply knew that the Duke of Aylesbury had always been very honorable and protective of the Robillards. Therefore, he recommended you to keep in touch with Aylesbury." Annabelle dropped her gaze for an instance and ran her palms down the silk of her skirts leisurely. . "Scarlett, Aylesbury had once helped me very much. I would say he saved my life. I won't go into details because I cannot do this, but what I want to say is that you can fully trust him. He is a great man."

Scarlett smiled. "I believe you, Annabelle. I like him very much."

"What were you thinking about when I came into the room? Was your head occupied with the great Rhett Butler of Charleston?"

"Sorry, what did you say?"

"I asked whether you were thinking about Rhett Butler." She repeated, staring at her friend with a mixture of possessive pride and anticipation. Scarlett looked at her half abstractedly.

"Excuse me," Scarlett said in a dangerously soft voice. "You are right, darling. I was thinking whether I should take children with us to Atlanta. As far as I realized, you want and will accompany me. What about children? I have never been away from the girls for more than a week. I cannot leave them"

"We are taking your daughters and Charles with us, Scarlett," Annabelle answered shortly. "I will help you with them. What about the timeframe of our trip?"

"Yet, I cannot suggest approximate time frame for our journey to Georgia. A lot of things can happen there, and timeframe will be more understandable on the spot," Scarlett almost whispered.

"Is that all you have on your mind? A pound to a penny, this is not all that bothers you," Annabelle continued.

"Rhett can be in Atlanta. I assume he can still visit Belle Watling's establishment," Scarlett nodded. A wild thrill of excitement shot through her at the thought of possible meeting with him.

"Pray continue." Annabelle requested, arching her brows.

"I don't want to have a random encounter with him somewhere on the street. But Mammy would love to see my princesses, and I want her to meet them."

"In this case we will be extremely careful once we arrive in Atlanta," Annabelle said softly. She relaxed her body in the chair and sipped some wine. She added: "Anyway, you were married and nobody should have questions about them."

"Annabelle, Blanche is like Bonnie's twin with his skin color and her eyes. I am not a risk-taker in terms of my children. I cannot lose them. Rhett will never win this time," Scarlett pronounced firmly, her green eyes dancing maliciously.

Annabelle reached for her shoulder. "Please calm down, darling."

Scarlett's face brightened up. "I am happy that at Isabelle didn't take so much after Rhett – she so different with her midnight green color and dark ash blonde hair."

Annabelle smiled. "Oh, Isabelle is a very different child from Blanche."

Scarlett's daughter Blanche was so similar to Rhett in her appearance, especially in the color of her skin. Each time when she looked at Blanche, she remembered Rhett whom she still truly loved and her heart was sweetly whimpering.

Scarlett still had revenge plans to Rhett for her humiliation, revenge which she justified by her deep sense of inner shame, disgrace, and humiliation. She couldn't believe that Rhett could have disgraced her so much and couldn't have understood his own mistakes. She still remembered, as if it happened yesterday, the night at Rhett's house in Charleston and even more humiliating scene when he pulled her out of the house in the cold rain in the darkness of the street. Fortunately, Scarlett no longer felt like a dirty, used whore, perhaps, thanks to her inner relative emotional balance. Yet, it was a shaky balance of love and hate for Rhett. At times, she hated him wholeheartedly and maniacally, especially when her memory replayed the doleful events of her past months she spent in the United States. However, when she recalled their passionate, sensual nights of love, she felt a flash of voluptuous pain slashing through her heart and sultry warmth spilling over her body.

Annabelle stared at her. "Scarlett, pray tell me what bothers you. Is it all about the possibility that your sweet secret will be discovered by Rhett and he will take them from you, or you are afraid to loose in the whole game you started playing roughly two years ago?"

"It is about everything in combination, and it is difficult to answer right now. Do you want a glass of wine? It is amazing to have this marvelous drink before going to my cold empty bed," Scarlett answered with the unveiled affliction and longing in her low but sonorous voice.

"God gracious, Scarlett! You need only to give a sign and your admirers will run to your open arms."

"Ask me, darling, whether I need them," a sarcastic note was in her voice.

"Don't tell me about your prominent solitude in your constant longing for the great Rhett Butler of Charleston," Annabelle laughed low in her throat, looking at Scarlett with a hard, watchful gaze.

"Maybe, I am still lusting for this fake, proper gentleman, darling," Scarlett said tartly and wrinkled her small nose as she made extremely large gulp of wine.

"Of course, you are lusting for him, Scarlett," Annabelle snickered. "Wine is delicious. Go to bed, Scarlett. I will also retire soon. You will have a long day tomorrow."

"I don't want to sleep. I am thinking," Scarlett's gaze rested fondly on Annabelle. "Darling, why did you tell me that I would be unable to forget Rhett? How do you know it?"

"Darling, it is very simple. Just recall the most dramatic love affair in my life, which happened a long time ago. I mean _François Maximilien Xavier de Montmorin, 9th Marquis de Saint-Hérem_."

"I guessed."

"I loved him wholeheartedly but I didn't tell him about my true feelings in a due time. Instead, I pushed him away. I am still suffering. I even don't hope to meet someone who can somehow replace him, Scarlett. I will never get married again," explanations tumbled Annabelle's thin lips.

The idea of loving someone else possessed Annabelle's imagination and she tried to take pleasure in it, but her heart had immediately contested such a possibility. It was impossible for her to imagine another man instead of Francois making love to her throughout the rest of her life. She got accustomed to her loneliness and

"I remember. Pray elaborate on it. You always start and cut yourself sharply, Annabelle," Scarlett was mortified at the thought that Annabelle always didn't disclose the truth about her relations with this man and each time broke her speech off when they started to talk about him.

"Darling, do a favor to me and leave this topic out of our today's conversation," Annabelle closed the topic in almost imperative tone with no usual mocking and teasing, leaning her head on the arm of the chair in her despair.

Scarlett approached her and clapped her gently on her left forearm. "Fine, we will do as you wish. Let's forget about it, but just for now," she said joyfully, skillfully maneuvering away from the subject of Annabelle's evident frustration.

"Let's forget."

"Look at my new gold bonnet on that sofa. It is ornamented with a wide green silky ribbon tie and a large feather. Isn't it amazing?"

"This bonnet is marvelous. It matches your green eyes," Annabelle's sonorous voice resonated in the emptiness of the room. "You can wear it with a lot of green dresses from your closet."

"I also like this bonnet, Annabelle. I can wear it with so many things!" Scarlett exclaimed.

"I also like this bonnet as it perfectly matches Scarlett's pale green eyes. Probably, now you want to greet me, my dear cousins?" a familiar voice resonated behind Scarlett and Annabelle's backs.

It was a lady standing near the doorway. She was _Noëlle Marie Rosalie de Robillard de Bréveaux, Marquise d'Entrecasteaux,_ who had just arrived in London in the late afternoon. She was accompanied by her two maids and came to London from Toulouse, the South of France. Noëlle was Scarlett's third cousin and Annabelle's second cousin. Scarlett and Annabelle turned around to face Noëlle.

Noëlle was the daughter of _Marc Antoine Louis de Robillard de Bréveaux _and a granddaughter of_ Luc Edmond Jean-Jacques de Robillard de Bréveaux_, _18th_ _Baron_ _de La Mancellière_, Jean-Baptiste de Robillard's younger brother. In the high society Noëlle was considered to be the uncrowned Queen of the South of France as she was born in Toulouse and had been living almost throughout all her life, excluding several years she had spent in Paris at _Napoleon III's_ court. Annabelle and Noëlle had been very close friends and confidants for many years, but in the past several years their relations worsened because Noëlle didn't like that Annabelle persuaded her to divorce her old husband _Marquis Raymond d'Entrecasteaux _and flee France with _Armand Louis Charles d'Aubusson de La Feuillade_, _14th Count de Maulevrier, _who had always been her only true love. Noëlle and Armand had a tragic story: they had been lovers for many years since the moment when Noëlle's father Marc and her grandfather Luc hadn't allowed her to get married to her second cousin Armand and made her marry old _Marquis Raymond d'Entrecasteaux _in order to have a title of a Marquise.

Noëlle didn't have a classical, timeless beauty like Annabelle had and possessed an exotic beauty. She turned thirty years old in 1875. She was a little taller than average height. She had light brown eyes, which were deep set eyes. Those eyes were large and set deeper into the skull, creating the illusion of a more prominent brow bone and perfectly giving a very dazzling look to her face. She had a button nose and full, pouty lips. Noëlle had very long, thick hair of walnut brown color. It was evident that her hair was much longer than her waist, longer than that of Scarlett and Annabelle. She was very slender, with quite large breasts, with well-curved hips. There was neither sadness, nor happiness in Noëlle's gaze – it was neutral but natural. Noëlle carried herself well with an atmosphere of elegance, but there was something of a sort of an alluring provocation in all her image, which could capture any man's eye. She was very feminine, more feminine that Scarlett and Annabelle were. There was neither anything innocent, nor anything fatal in Noëlle – only a combination of elegance and provocation in one single allegation. It was a courageous, brave beauty, exotic beauty that could drag any man to her.

One that evening, Noëlle was wearing the gorgeous azure velvet dress, with the low square-cut neckline and with the long train trimmed with a massive profusion of Venetian laces. The skirt of a gown was a little opened in front. The sleeves of the gown were narrow to the elbow where they suddenly widened and were bordered with fur. Her long hair was arranged in little curls close round her forehead and her temples, and in small rolls at the back of the head. Noëlle was wearing "merveilleuse" hat in the fabulous jet lace, its one side turned up and having a bunch of flowers. She had her own fashion and wore what she had liked the most, depending on her frame of mind on a particular day.

Annabelle and Scarlett smiled at her. Noëlle smiled back at them.

Annabelle came to Noëlle and hugged her. "Good afternoon, Noëlle!" she exclaimed. As she pulled away, her grey eyes swept Noëlle's image. "You look lovely, darling."

Scarlett walked to Noëlle and Annabelle. Noëlle embraced her for an instance. "Noëlle, I am delighted to see you in London. Indeed, you look great," Scarlett declared.

"I look no better than you both do, Annabelle and Scarlett," Noëlle remarked as her eyes registered Scarlett's magnificent dark grey velvet gown and Annabelle's yellow muslin gown.

"What are you doing in London, Noëlle? I haven't seen you for ages. You even didn't answer to several of my last letters," Annabelle said.

Annabelle and Scarlett settled on the sofa near the window. Noëlle sank into the armchair in front of the sofa and stretched her long legs. Then she stared at Scarlett and Annabelle.

"Annabelle, I didn't answer because I don't like that you are always telling me that I must leave my husband," Noëlle said matter-of-factly.

Annabelle lifted her head and spoke with deliberate meaning. "Noëlle, I care for your happiness. And I know that you are unhappy in your marriage. Isn't it a task for a good, caring cousin to help you to become happy?"

"You know that I cannot disgrace my father and my grandfather. Therefore, I cannot file for the divorce," Noëlle protested.

Annabelle's lips curved in an ambiguous smile. "I am sorry but I positively don't understand. You are continuing your relations with Armand who had asked you many times to divorce your husband and to be together."

"Noëlle, darling, I see some rationality in what Annabelle is saying," Scarlett addressed to her in a steady voice. "She cares for you a great deal."

Noëlle let her gaze fall, unwillingly troubled by this conversation. "Probably, I am not as bold as you are, my dear cousins," she avowed.

"Noëlle, darling…" Annabelle murmured tenderly.

"Annabelle, I don't want to talk about this. I am sorry. I will continue living in a misery with my old husband because I don't want to cause the disgrace of all the Robillards in France by my divorce." She stared at Annabelle and said. "Annabelle, I am not you with all your boldness and appetite for risk and scandals." Then her gaze flew to Scarlett's face. "And I am not you, Scarlett, who can survive everything, even the divorce. I am not as strong as both of you are."

Scarlett spoke quietly, musing. "Noëlle, we all are different. You are also unique, very unique."

"Indeed," Annabelle confirmed.

Noëlle seemed so distant, almost a ghost in truth. "I am unique because everybody thinks that I am an embodiment of a provocation, but in fact my true mind is very far from that. And it is so because I love only one man – Armand."

A sad smile testified on Annabelle's face. "I know, darling."

"But even if I love Armand, a wife belongs with her husband, all else aside. Even if it is so painful, I cannot disgrace the Robillards." Noëlle shut her eyes. As she opened them, she stared at Annabelle and Scarlett. "Annabelle and Scarlett, I must ask you not to be offended. In the past years I prefer to be alone. It better suits my inward tragedy." She paused, her eyes slid closed. "I am not as strong as both of you are," she reiterated.

"I understand you, Noëlle," Scarlett murmured.

"Noëlle, I have learned a lesson from our past relations. Now I understand," Annabelle replied curtly.

Noëlle cast at Annabelle and Scarlett a gratifying look. "Thank you, my dear girls."

There was an ache in Scarlett's chest as she looked at Noëlle. She drew a deep breath, only now realizing that she had held it for a long time. "Noëlle, why did you come to London?"

Noëlle bit back the laugh that wanted to come, but she anyway laughed bitterly. "Armand," a short answer followed.

"What are you and Armand planning to do?" Annabelle questioned.

"We are going to Scotland to Marchmont's castle for several weeks. This is the only opportunity to spend some time together. I will meet Armand and Geoffroy here the day after tomorrow," Noëlle responded. She sighed, her hands falling to her sides. "Armand will bring our two children and the same day we will leave for Scotland."

"I see," Annabelle said.

Scarlett smiled. "As we had no chance to see Marchmont here in London, I hope you will pass our greetings to him."

"I will do this, Scarlett." Without any warning, Noëlle rose to her feet. "It is late. Marguerite told me that you would be departing to Southampton tomorrow very early in the morning. You should be asleep now."

Annabelle stood up. "Are you leaving, Noëlle?"

Noëlle gave a nod. "Yes, I am."

Scarlett also leapt to her feet. "Goodnight, Noëlle."

"Goodnight, Noëlle," Annabelle pronounced.

"Goodnight, Scarlett and Annabelle," she said. And she turned and left Scarlett and Annabelle alone with the flames in the fireplace.

"Poor Noëlle and Armand," Scarlett enunciated.

"I have hoped for a long time that she would leave her husband, but I see that it is in vain. She is like you, Scarlett. She has her own virtues of the South of France while you have your virtues of the Old South. However, Noëlle's virtues and principles are very far from being a courtly, chivalrous love that was often set to music by troubadours or minstrels," Annabelle vocalized.

"Indeed, Noëlle's ideas are very far from free love, despite her relations with Armand whom she loves wholeheartedly," Scarlett agreed.

"I know." Annabelle shook her head. "Darling, Noëlle was right that we must sleep. Should we retire, Scarlett?"

"Yes, we should. Let's go upstairs," Scarlett responded briefly. And they quickly left the dining room.

Scarlett and Annabelle woke up prior to the sunset. They had a breakfast with Marguerite and Noëlle and soon left for Southampton to continue their trip to the United States on the ship.

During next couple of weeks Scarlett was very withdrawn from the outside world. She was focused completely on her children, depriving even Annabelle of her attention. Scarlett was tongue-tied and short-tempered, and everybody, except for her precious daughters, suffered from her sudden emotional outbursts and her sudden mood upswings. She was experiencing emotional tumult that, however, hadn't reached its peak yet.

Watching her carefully, Annabelle concluded that her friend was trembling from not only the threat of facing Rhett, but also from her own inner fear of her possible inability to put her standard mask of courtesy and blankness, which Scarlett had got accustomed to use in her communication not only with the upper-class society, but at times even with her friends and relatives. Being a great hero of emotional self-masquerade, Annabelle understood perfectly well how Scarlett managed to wear her mask so skillfully in the daytime and at the same time be completely vulnerable and natural when doffing this mask in her solitude. She admired Scarlett for that. Annabelle knew that that mask had hidden Scarlett's pain and emotional fragility. She also guessed that it had been Rhett Butler who had taught Scarlett to wear this mask.

Annabelle, however, realized during their sea trip that Scarlett had to put a great deal of effort in order to act in the familiar manner of impersonal nonchalance and courtesy with only one person in the world – her former husband Rhett. Having learnt the above, she also became afraid of their trip to Atlanta where they could meet Rhett. The only hope was that he was not and would not be there and that Scarlett would cope with her emotional unrest if they somehow meet him.

They disembarked the ship in Charleston harbor and hired the carriage to get to the train station. Scarlett knew that there was a direct train to Atlanta with the scheduled departure time two hours after their arrival. She didn't want to miss this train in order not to spend the night in Charleston and taking additional risks of meeting Rhett. Scarlett had to drive everybody from the small group of her fellow travelers: children were tired, while Annabelle wasn't accustomed to Georgia's weather conditions at this time of the year. However, nobody complained, and their journey continued in accordance with the initial plan. Later in the afternoon, they ultimately arrived to the dark train station of Atlanta.

Annabelle noticed that Scarlett's jaw squared and that she squeezed her teeth tightly, which suggested her disturbance and emotional combustion. Scarlett's mood was swinging up and down from her usual equilibrium state, namely from the balance of blankness and indifference with some emotions of unknown kind. She continued to remain bold and determined and commanded the carriage driver to quickly get them to the Atlanta National Hotel, where she had to face her first surprise for tonight. In the hotel there were no more available rooms, except for the honeymoon suit. Scarlett was in rage, clapping intensively her black long eyelashes and focusing her hectic gaze on the reception manager who had to repeat twice that they didn't have other vacant rooms in the hotel for tonight.

When they were upstairs, Scarlett stormed out of the main queen bedchamber, in which she and Annabelle had to sleep together. The children and Charles was assigned to sleep in the other two bedrooms of the suite, adjacent to the main bedroom. The nannies were supposed to occupy a small room number on the ground floor, not luxuriously finished and with uncomfortable large bed, but the only one vacant at the hotel. Scarlett began to pace the floor in the living room from the wall with the pictures to the bedchamber door.

"Darling, what happened? You nearly killed the receptionist. Now you are like the ticker of the clock." Annabelle asked straightforwardly.

"What fools live in this town? They have no other available rooms, and we have to pay for this honeymoon suite the triple night charge! Only Parisian fools can afford this! Damn this suit and Atlanta," Scarlett frowned as the old memories of her life with Rhett replayed in her mind.

Annabelle didn't know what to say and merely waited, but when the intensity of Scarlett's gaze was too much to bear, she turned back to her, asked two nurses to keep an eye on the children, and invited Scarlett to go to the hotel bar downstairs. They were lucky not to have Charles with them as the boy said that he wasn't hungry and just retired to bed. They went downstairs together.

"Scarlett, what is going on?" Annabelle asked as they settled at the table near the bar.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, can you please explain your behavior? I must know when to expect the next mood swing," Annabelle laughed out. "Is it again connected with your former husband?"

"Annabelle, this is just goddamned Atlanta and my past! Damn it!"

Annabelle winked at her. "Why don't you like this room?"

"We lived in this honeymoon suite with Rhett after we returned to Atlanta from our honeymoon trip to New Orleans," Scarlett hissed quietly in anger.

"This is a luxurious room number, and Rhett seems to have a good taste," Annabelle grinned. As she turned toward Scarlett, she said in a heedful voice: "Is there the slightest chance that we can change the room today?"

"Not the slightest." Scarlett silently counted the minutes until the ordeal is over, but it seemed to be infinite. She couldn't relax.

"We are unfortunate on this occasion."

"We lived there for three months while our monstrous house on the Peachtree Street was being built. This was the only time in our marriage when we had lived together with amiability," Scarlett continued.

"At least you had this good time in your marriage, darling. Why is it a monstrous house?" Annabelle said thoughtfully.

"It is rather extravagant, my dear, and very similar in its interior and decorations to Belle Watling's establishment, as Rhett said. When the house was built, I didn't care for it and only wanted to have the grandest mansion in the whole town to make others envy me. I was a childish fool," Scarlett laughed out in an unpleasantly sad manner.

"Does it have light-red or burgundy carpeting on the walls, large framed mirrors on the walls, and light-red or burgundy velvet portieres in each room?"

"Yes, darling, everything is as you described. How do you know, Annabelle? Rhett has never loved this house. I didn't understand him earlier." Scarlett fluttered her eyelashes down in embarrassment at the thought of how uncomfortable Rhett felt in their semi-dark, brothel-like house.

"It is very simple – it is a typical house of many well-known French courtesans, Scarlett. Have you ever heard about _Cora Pearl_? Her real name is _Emma Elizabeth Crouch_," Annabelle questioned.

"Yes, of course. It seems that in Cora's house on Montmartre the male representatives of almost all French upper-class society periodically meet. Somebody told me that her most enduring admirer was _Prince Napoleon, _the Emperor's cousin, and that she spent around ten years with him," Scarlett answered.

"Scarlett, you know all the Parisian gossips. Have you ever seen her house?"

"No, I have never seen it. Why do you ask?" An amusement was depicted on Scarlett's face.

"Her house is decorated in exactly the same style I described to you and thus like your old house. I was at _Cora Pearl's_ once when my late husband Emmanuel got drunk and was absent for several days. I was looking for him and finally discovered him at Cora's brothel," Annabelle laughed.

"Name of God!" Scarlett cried out. "My own house was a real brothel-like. Rhett allowed me to build it!"

"I think he allowed because he loved you with his strange, tormenting love," Annabelle replied.

"Yes, I suppose so… I think Rhett knew this Cora too. I bet he used the services of many French courtesans," Scarlett broke into a loud aggravating laugh.

"It would be oddly enough if he didn't have any mistress and courtesans in the past, Scarlett, especially French courtesans, given that he liked Paris as you said to me. Forget, please."

"It is such an intense flow of memories with the sense of destructive hollow when Rhett left me in Atlanta," Scarlett answered sorrowfully.

Annabelle's voice was good-natured. "Forget about it."

"I cannot forget! But I must," Scarlett clenched her jaw.

"Let's have a drink. Do you want whiskey or something stronger?" Annabelle offered to diffuse the situation as she saw Scarlett's emotional tumult.

"Have a glass of whiskey with me. We, Robillards, have to drink it to dilute our pure aristocratic French blood by pouring unladylike whiskey to our stomachs! I will be fine in several minutes," Scarlett said as the waved to the waiter to come to them. She ordered two glasses of whiskey. Scarlett sipped deeply into the throat the bitter liquid from the glass and put the glass on the table.

"Whiskey is very good. I love it and will order the second glass. Join me."

"Of course, I will join you. I need a drink," Scarlett said and reiterated. "I need it badly."

"I have to say that you look breathtaking, despite your tiredness. When you are excited and in rage, your appearance is tremendous and unforgettable, believe me," Annabelle spelled out in a quiet voice.

"Don't flatter me, Annabelle!" Scarlett cried out in protest.

Annabelle gave a half shrug to her. "I am not flattering you."

"You are beautiful, while my appearance is always lost if I am close to you," Scarlett snapped. "Besides, now I look very tired and bored with my arrival in Atlanta." She grimaced in dissatisfaction.

Annabelle threw her head behind and broke into a violent, loud laugh. "Are you mad, darling?"

Scarlett shook her head. "I am not."

Annabelle cast a serious glance at Scarlett. "Scarlett, you and I are very different in appearance, but both of us have head-turning beauties. You are not a child and must understand the difference between the classic beauty and unconventional, exotic beauty."

Scarlett shook her head. "I know, darling."

Annabelle frowned. "If you know, then you comprehend that your type of beauty is exotic and unforgettable and very attractive. Damn you, Scarlett, you don't have a cold beauty like I do."

Scarlett glanced at her friend. Her eyes were kind. "Annabelle, I love you," she said.

Annabelle smiled heartily, a glimpse of teasing in her grey eyes. "Oh, I love you too, my dear Southern belle and a green-eyed elf."

"And you are a grey-eyed elfin," Scarlett teased.

The grey eyes twinkled. "Oh, yes, I am."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

**Unrehearsed surprises in Atlanta**

Annabelle's gaze fixed on a man in the corner of the room. "Now look into the dark corner of the room at the blonde man is undressing you by his gaze. Do you know him?" Annabelle whispered in Scarlett's ear.

"God's nightgown! I know this man," Scarlett exclaimed.

Annabelle swept her eyes over Scarlett and the man. "Who is he?"

"It is Ashley Wilkes," Scarlett said in undertone.

"Your former lukewarm sweetheart!" Annabelle cried out. "I am broiling with impatience."

"Annabelle, hush up now, he is coming to us," Scarlett instructed swiftly.

Ashley approached them. "Good evening, ladies." He bowed to them very low, demonstrating sweet, gentlemanly politeness.

"Ashley, what a surprise to see you tonight," Scarlett greeted Ashley in a good-humored indifference.

"Scarlett, my darling, so much time has passed since our last meeting. You look very beautiful," Ashley greeted Scarlett impatiently, contemplating her suave indifference.

"Ashley, may I introduce to you _Annabelle Françoise Julienne de Robillard de Bréveaux, Countess de Morville_. She is my third cousin from France and also a very close friend." A faint smile stirred her lips, her green eyes untouched. "Annabelle, this is my friend Mr Wilkes."

"Madame de Morville, I am happy to meet you. You look very lovely today."

"It is very nice to meet you, Mr Wilkes. I hope you had a pleasant dinner toning," Annabelle granted to Ashley a vague smile in all her grandeur French courtesy.

"I was having a late dinner with my client from the mill. It is simple luck to meet you," Ashley answered in bewilderment.

"I hope it went well," Scarlett said.

"It was good. Scarlett, darling, how have you been the past two years? There were rumors in the town that you got married in Europe," Ashley asked curiously, fixing his grey eyes at her face.

"We have just arrived and suddenly met you in the restaurant. I am pretty well. The rumors are true." Scarlett sipped her drink and smiled nonchalantly at Ashley.

Ashley held her gaze, stricken by Scarlett's manner of leading conversation, her indifference and coldness. "Scarlett, let me congratulate you with your marriage."

"Thank you, Ashley. I believe that it should be Uncle Henry who told you about my marriage. Unfortunately, I am a widow now," Scarlett said stonily.

"My dear, it is so pity that you are a widow again. Accept my condolences for your loss."

"Thank you, Ashley," Scarlett returned a smile. "How is Beau?"

"Beau is fine. In fact, we both have been doing quite well," Ashley commented, his eyes wandering from her atlas shoes to her neck with a large sapphire necklace and to her highly-knotted raven hair.

"I am glad to hear this. Where are you living now?" Scarlett asked and bent a cool, impenetrable long look on him.

"We still live at Aunt Pitty's house, with India and Beau. But it is a long story. You are probably tired," Ashley answered politely, stunned by Scarlett's tone. Ashley had known only one man who could speak so boldly and so coolly, yet with such courtesy. This man was Rhett Butler.

"You are right, Ashley. We prefer to retire upstairs. We are actually very tired and need to unpack. I will call on you one of the coming days," Scarlett said, pleased that they could escape soon.

"My darling, it is a wonderful idea. When should I expect you to visit our humble dwelling?" Ashley's crystal-grey eyes were blazing with excitement.

"I am sorry, but I don't know when I will visit you. I have very urgent deals in Atlanta and at Tara, which made me come here so unexpectedly. Have a good night," Scarlett ended the conversation and stood up from the chair.

"Goodnight, Mr Wilkes," Annabelle smiled at him.

"Goodnight, ladies. Scarlett, I will be waiting for you," Ashley said and bowed formally.

"Goodbye, Ashley. See you soon," Scarlett repeated and walked away from Annabelle.

When Annabelle and Scarlett were on the staircase of the hotel on the way back to the honeymoon suite, Annabelle broke the odious silence hanging over them.

"Ashley is funny and boring. I want to see Rhett and compare them," Annabelle nearly sung.

"They cannot be compared. They are very different," Scarlett elaborated. "Ashley has aged considerably for the past two years. He still hasn't recovered from Melanie's death. He looks much older than her actually is."

"Ashley was apparently shocked by your treatment of him."

"Yes, he was. I noticed it, Annabelle. I don't care. I was polite, and that's enough."

Scarlett and Annabelle spent around an hour drinking wine and chatting. They helped each other to undress because Leontine, one of the children's nurses and also the personal maid, was arranging to bed Scarlett's daughters. Scarlett's heart was hampering as she saw Blanche and Isabelle sleeping peacefully in their small cribs which they brought with them from Paris. She thanked Heaven for them as they miraculously saved her from complete emotional death.

"Scarlett, my life as a lady-in-waiting in the Emperor's palace taught me to mask my emotions, but who taught you? Was it Rhett Butler?"

"You are right, my dear. Rhett taught me this lesson, like many other lessons," Scarlett answered. She was bothered with the evening. "The conversation with Ashley was pretty annoying."

"Yes, it was. He is an annoying man," Annabelle was laughing quietly, trying to cherish her friend. "Your skills of cold indifference are tremendous."

"Believe me, darling, that if you ever meet Rhett Butler, you won't think so."

"Why is that, Scarlett?" Annabelle asked in bewilderment.

"Because his mask of suasive indifference and overdone, nearly sweet politeness looks very natural and even fits his general image," Scarlett let out a joyful laugh. "Do you want to sleep?"

"Yes, I do. I am taking the right side of the bed, dear. I am exhausted. Goodnight," Annabelle replied, climbed under the covers cunningly and fluttered her eyelashes down as sleep claimed her.

Scarlett put off her black velvet wrapper with gold buttons and sank to the bed, covering her body with white silky sheets. Annabelle was sleeping in the same bed – her body was relaxed, her grey eyes closed. Scarlett silently cursed the hotel that they didn't have unoccupied rooms and forced them to sleep so uncomfortably. Hopefully, it was only for one night. The first night in Atlanta was sleepless for Scarlett. Having a strange feeling of something unpredictable to happen, she couldn't force her mind to stop working. She wished to master an art of fortunate-telling to predict the outcome of her upcoming trip. What is expecting her in Atlanta where she left all her sorrow and pain behind? What is expecting her at Tara? How was Mammy feeling? Was her sickness serious and can it be cured? How will Suellen meet Scarlett? Would there be any clashes between two sisters? Where was Rhett Butler at that moment? Will she meet Rhett in Atlanta?

"It is all about my return to this dreadful town as it leads to the roots of all my problems," she thought. "Damn this honeymoon suite. I cannot sleep here."

Scarlett stretched her body lazily, closed her emerald eyes, and sighed, feeling as fatigue was coming on her. Despite being tired after the long journey, emotional tumult and memories about Rhett swept through her mind with a new, greater strength as she propped up her head on the pillow. She recalled how in the same room number she and Rhett were making love to each other throughout the night and how gentle and tender Rhett was to her. He opened for her the world of passion, but she didn't understand and didn't appreciate this at that time. She opened her eyes and strained her eyesight, staring in the darkness as if she was desperately trying to find Rhett in the room, but he wasn't there. Finally, her heavy eyes closed as physical fatigue won in the battle with emotional unrest.

When next Scarlett awoke, the moon was riding high in black sky. It was either very late or very early. She rolled over onto her stomach, seeking the peace of slumber before she lost it to wakefulness and the torturous thoughts that would surely return once the day comes. She glanced at Annabelle sleeping close to her and smiled at her. Some time passed and Annabelle began to move. She was murmuring something to herself, but she was afraid even in her sleep. Scarlett leaned down and reached for her shoulder, touching her in order to awake her. Annabelle screamed in her sleep and her grey eyes flung widely open. She was breathing heavily, horror was revealed in her charming almond-shaped eyes. As Annabelle awoke in cold sweat, she sat in the bed, staring ahead with a feverous gaze.

Scarlett touched her forehead. "Annabelle, darling, did you have the same nightmare again?"

Annabelle swallowed hard. "Yes, I did." She continued starting ahead.

"It is related to…" Scarlett stumbled with words.

Annabelle shut her eyes. "I hate my first husband Paul," she said in a trembling voice.

Scarlett hugged her about her shoulders. "Darling, it is fine. He is dead."

"Thanks God that Paul is dead," Annabelle murmured. "God Forgive me for these dreadful words."

"Darling, try to sleep, please," Scarlett said as she put her hands off her dear friends.

Annabelle leaned down on the pillow. "I will be fine, Scarlett. Thank you, darling." She shut her eyes and put her hands at her sides.

"Sleep, darling," Scarlett said tenderly. Then she also leaned back on the bed, covered her body by the blanket, and closed her eyes. She wrapped her fingers around each other and sighed. Soon sleep claimed her again.

Contrary to her hopes, Scarlett awoke again long before the sunrise as she could not escape the recurring nightmare of running in the fog. Signed heavily and closed her eyes. She was laying in her bed, unmoved and silent, because she didn't want to wake up Annabelle who was sleeping like a child. When Annabelle she turned onto her back, Scarlett opened her eyes and smiled hazily. The thoughts of Rhett again paraded across his mind, bringing a sharp, nearly agonizing pain, and she began to think about her recent trips and the balls she attended in the high society. Several hours passed in this way, and when the clock struck half past nine in the morning, Annabelle opened her grey eyes.

Annabelle sighed resignedly and straightened her body, her eyes shut. "Good morning."

"Good morning, darling. Did you sleep well after you had awoken in a nightmare?"

"Very well, then. I feel that now I could sleep away the day," Annabelle remarked and gazed at her friend. "You had another restless night, didn't you? And it happened partly because of me."

"Yes, I did. I woke up several times, but not because of you, Annabelle. Never even talk in this tone."

"In this case you will sleep better today. After our journey to Tara you will be exhausted and sleep well."

Scarlett's pale green eyes flashed up at Annabelle, direct into her grey eyes."I doubt because I will have to be with Mammy." Scarlett sat in the bed sitting in bed, her knees drawn up to her chest as if she were trying to curl into a cocoon.

"I will help you."

"Thank you, darling." The tension in Scarlett's face gave way, and she relaxed against the pillows.

"Have you chosen the dress for this day?"

"Annabelle, I plan to do this now. We must choose something special for both of us."

"We must look very beautiful today." Annabelle shifted closer to Scarlett. She gave her a hard hug and tried to laugh. "Everybody should be stunned."

"The Robillard sisters have arrived," Scarlett said with a hint of a smile touching her soft lips.

"Actually, I am afraid the only way for them is to be stunned." A smile of joyous relief flashed across Annabelle's features.

"Yes," Scarlett applauded. "There is every chance some people in Atlanta who won't be delighted to see me. There is a chance of a random meeting on the street. The day is unlikely to pass without surprises."

Annabelle's eyebrows beetled together in puzzlement. "N'est-ce pas? (Really?)"

"_Cela s'entend de soi-même (It goes without saying)_." Scarlett's green eyes met Annabelle's grey orbs. "We are unlikely to have no surprises," she said. That stung so hard it stole her breath.

Annabelle looked up at her gasp and frowned. "Who are these people? What are you afraid of?"

"Firstly, I mean the newsmongers of Atlanta, the Old Guard. We have never been friends with them." Scarlett's gaze flew to Annabelle's face. "Secondly, I mean my former husband. I hope he isn't in the town."

"I don't care. Take it easy, my dear."

"I will try, Annabelle."

"But meeting scandalmongers may be interesting and entertaining," Annabelle said with a grin.

Scarlett smiled heartily. "Maybe, we will meet them," she assumed. "I have a suspicion we will meet them.

"Oh, I will risk it."

Scarlett drew a breath. "_Aussitôt dit, aussitôt fait (Said and done)._"

Scarlett climbed out of the bed and went to the dressing room. On the first morning in Atlanta, she wanted to wear something very special. She chose her new velvet tight outdoor of deep-green color, with a medium length train, a low V-squared neckline, and silky sleeves trimmed with pleated ruffles and magnificent Venetian laces. The slightly draped overskirts of the dress were catching up with buckled ribbons of jade green color. Scarlett intended to wear a tiny French green bonnet with flat crown and long jade green ribbons, placed a little bit tipped forward on her head in accordance with a new Paris fashion rules. It was as clear as the day that Scarlett was anticipating a lot of eyes following her during the journey home and especially on her first day here in Atlanta, and Annabelle was observing her with joy and satisfaction. She was happy that her dearest friend had good mood today.

A pleasant smile appeared on Scarlett's face. "This is a newly fashionable European dress. I am on my tiptoes with eagerness to know what people will think about my current appearance."

"The men will like you even if you are dressed in rags."

"I was dressed in rags during the civil war," Scarlett replied. "For sure these old fat cats from Atlanta haven't seen such models of gowns before."

"I have no doubts that they indeed haven't seen such a gown like yours. What do you think about me wearing this purple dress for today? This one, darling, look here," Annabelle asked, smiling at Scarlett.

"Darling, this dress is amazing! I told you this when we first saw it at Madame Laurence's in Venice! All the men in Atlanta will be yours, I promise you," Scarlett exclaimed, feeling a sort of companionship with Annabelle in their mutual desire to look breathtakingly today.

Annabelle let a cherishing laugh. "I also like this dress, especially its extravagant buttons and laces."

"I agree with you. How I hate plain dresses of proper ladies form the Southern society! It so boring," a green-eyed lady's voice resonated loudly in the vacuum of the room.

"I can imagine, Scarlett. You are completely different from these boring proper ladies and lay audience."

Under Scarlett's patronizing looks and being helped by a skillful Leontine, Annabelle finished her dressing quite quickly. Her tight outdoor velvet dress of light purple color, with a long train and with sleeves trimmed with dark blue massive Florentine laces and gold buttons, gave Annabelle a romantic image. Annabelle finished her dressing by putting on her head a very shallow-crowned straw hat of deep purple color with a narrow brim. Scarlett and Annabelle looked into the huge mirror on the wall, their eyes locked, and, pleased with the result, ladies smiled at each other.

Scarlett hurried downstairs to the reception of the hotel. She was very lucky with the room numbers as she managed to secure three luxury suites on the third floor of the hotel building, which considerably elevated her frame of mind. She strongly objected to having any of her rooms on the second floor, especially right above the reception, where, she knew, Rhett Butler was always staying before he married her a long time ago. The young lady wanted to evade everything that could remind her about her former husband and their broken marriage life. She was looking forward to their check out of their luxurious honeymoon suite where they spent the previous night. Scarlett hated the honeymoon suite as her memory constantly replayed their nights and long conversations with Rhett in the first year of their marriage when everything hadn't gone terribly wrong yet.

Scarlett instructed Leontine in details in relation to the coming days. With Annabelle, they decided that the children with the nurses would stay in Atlanta at first. They agreed that they would head to the train station right after the breakfast with children and catch the first train for Jonesboro. Scarlett wanted to be with Mammy at the earliest possible time, but, having no clear picture on what was going on in Tara, she planned to take only Annabelle with her for her first visit. Leontine promised to be very careful with the children's appearances on public in Atlanta and didn't ask unnecessary question. Scarlett told her that she wanted the children to have their meal in their room number each day until the time she contacted Leontine. Scarlett had to know whether she would take the children for Tara to let Mammy see them and when it would happen. She also suggested that Leontine and the children could have promenades in the park that, luckily, wasn't far from the Atlanta National Hotel.

After they had finished breakfast in the honeymoon suite, they relocated children and their huge luggage to their new room numbers. When they unpacked the things, Scarlett and Annabelle left downstairs and hired the carriage, heading to the train station to catch the early train for Jonesboro.

The first morning surprise was awaiting ladies near the building of the Atlanta railway station. At the time when they were getting out of the carriage, several ladies from the Old Guard, including Mrs Meade, Mrs Merriweather, and Mrs Elsing, were approaching the station. Having seen Scarlett and Annabelle out of the leaving carriage, they stopped chatting for a moment and looked in a shock and amusement at two beautiful ladies standing almost in front of them. It was quite clear that they hadn't anticipated meeting the hero of their gossips and numerous evening talks in the past. Mrs Merriweather and Mrs Elsing were mostly affected by Scarlett's appearance in Atlanta as their faces went white and then immediately turned crimson, their eyes grew white and their full lips were parted as their breath lost its smoothness.

"This is Scarlett Butler whom Captain Butler divorced two years ago. What a shame it is to be a divorced woman! She disgraced her family completely!" Mrs Merriweather said loudly, with a special purpose to let Scarlett hear her words.

"Look at her! Look at her!" Mrs Elsing cried out.

Mrs Merriweather straightened her spine, not in haughty dignity, but as if she was a cat, drawing herself up and puffing her fur out in rage. "Apparently, they have no shame," she declared.

"Scarlett Butler is dressed as extravagant and vulgar as it always used to be on her side. The other lady seems to be of the same low-quality woman like," Mrs Elsing burst out with apparent disdain to Scarlett and her friend.

Scarlett, who was looking at them without initial intention to quarrel, now couldn't restrain from the conversation, which was very likely to be scandalous. Her blood was boiling in rage and indignation and her eyes were becoming more and more of deep-green color, which always happened with her when she was angry and her short Irish temper started simmering. She didn't care about the public scandal and was ready to defend herself and Annabelle in front of the Old Guard. What a poisonous tongues all these foolish newsmongers had, as Scarlett thought in her mind. Scarlett quickly approached a group of old ladies and began the conversation in a low, calm voice.

"Greetings to you, my dear scandalmongers," Scarlett began.

"Scandalmongers?" Mrs Merriweather's eyes widened. "How dare you to insult us? How dare you to be so ill-mannered with people who are older that you are and who are more respectable than you are?"

"I dare. You have nothing to do but discuss others with their envious, poisonous, evil tongues and to spread gossips around the town, indiscriminately truth or lies. It seems to me that nothing changes in Atlanta," Scarlett paused and cleared her throat.

Mrs Merriweather and Mrs Elsing's eyes grew wider and wider. Startled, Mrs Meade was keeping silent.

"Listen to her, Dolly! Scarlett Butler is insulting elder people, as usual. She is so ill-mannered… so vile… She mustn't be admitted to the proper society," Mrs Elsing exclaimed and clapped her hands loudly.

Scarlett took one step back. She raised her hand to her mouth and chocked her laugh. "You should better come home to your husbands and children to teach at least them the rules of proper behavior.

"What? What?" Mrs Elsing asked in horror.

"Otherwise your offspring take a risk of being laughed out publicly if they ever have a chance to face the representatives of proper upper-class aristocratic society." Scarlett's tone was laidback and nonchalant, which further boiled the temper of two already heated women.

Hot anger surged Mrs Merriweather's bloated body. She was ready for a new attack. "Don't touch our offspring, you, trashy Scarlett Butler! Look at yourself at first. Your mother taught you completely different manners and behavior. You are not like her. You should be ashamed!"

"Dolly, look at her! She is so insolent and rude as usual. Scalawag and trashy woman you are, Scarlett Butler!" Mrs Elsing was shouting at Scarlett in her ever-rising fury.

"Mrs Merriweather and Mrs Elsing, I think we should leave now," Mrs Meade interjected.

Apprehending the scandal, Mrs Meade wanted to stop her female companions, but they ignored her benevolent intentions. The scandal in the street continued. More and more passers-by turned their heads to the quarreling group. More and more whisperings and groans sounded around them.

"Mrs Elsing, calm down and make your hat a little bit more tipped backwards. Such a type of a hat is usually worn backwards on a woman's head," Scarlett stated in a calm, indifferent manner. "Besides, I am no longer Scarlett Butler."

"It doesn't matter what is your new name!" Mrs Elsing protested. "A new name didn't change your scandalously unladylike, detestable character!"

Mrs Merriweather stared at Scarlett. "You are a shabby woman!" She marked her displeasure by a deep frown and added, "Captain Butler was correct in divorcing you!"

Scarlett granted to the women an arrogant glance. "Mrs Merriweather, I am glad to announce especially for you that my deals with Captain Butler are exclusively private and what happened between us is left strictly between us," she paused. Her tone was confident, steady, yet cold and nonchalant, which was further heating the temper of the Old Guard. Then she went on. "But to satisfy your curiosity, I can confess that I signed the divorce papers with a great pleasure, because I got married to a French nobleman two years ago." A new shortest pause followed. Scarlett inhaled deeply. "I am very happy now," she smirked, her lips curved in a sardonic smile.

"You are a money-obsessed creature and got married to this poor man only because of his money!" Mrs Elsing intruded in the conversation, her eyes growing wide due to Scarlett's exclusively cold treatment.

"To satisfy your curiosity, I haven't taken a single dollar from Captain Butler as I don't need his money and status," Scarlett pronounced in a steady voice and added to smooth the conversation, "I also wish you and your children the happiness from the bottom of my heart."

Mrs Meade stepped forward to Scarlett. "Scarlett, I would like to apologize for making it so inconvenient and uncomfortable for you and your friend to hear our conversation."

Scarlett smiled. "Thank you very much, Mrs Meade."

"Thanks for your good wishes. I wish you the same. I am glad you are doing fine," Mrs Meade said genuinely and politely, trying to apologize for the two other women.

Mrs Elsing attacked again. "Mrs Meade, look at her! Look at this trashy woman Scarlett Butler!"

"Don't try to apologize for us as we have nothing to apologize for," Mrs Merriweather cried out loudly in her bad-tempered manner.

Scarlett laughed outright at them. "I have always known that fools are going forward. But fools at sixty years are fools forever."

"How dare you talking to us in this tone!" Mrs Elsing growled.

"Well, then," Annabelle said, extending her hand to Scarlett. Her smile was brilliant and harshly beautiful. "I think you are behaving rather scandalously, mes chères dames."

"Leopards don't change their spots," Scarlett mocked them, her eyes absolutely blank.

Annabelle let out a sincere laugh. "Let us be friends in peace, but enemies in war."

Scarlett was ready to continue entertainment. "It is the absolute truth."

It made the Old Guard even angrier that Scarlett and Annabelle appeared to have an actual good point. Not Scarlett and Annabelle, but Mrs Merriweather and Mrs Elsing were aggressors and instigators of the scandal.

Mrs Merriweather assaulted again. "They are so vile! They are so disgusting!"

"_Tant de paroles! Discours creux! __(So many words! Idle talk!)_" Scarlett couldn't help herself but include at least one phrase in French. Her arrogance and ego wanted to demonstrate to the Old Guard that she had been living in France for the past years. "Oh God! Annabelle, this is a gratuitous spectacle!"

Annabelle was also entertaining. She quoted _Jean-Jacques Rousseau_ in French: "_Généralement, les gens qui savant peu parlent becoup, et les gens qui savant beaucoup parlent peu. __(Generally speaking, the people who know little speak a lot and the people who know a lot speak little)._"

Mrs Merriweather's face turned crimson. Her breathing was erratic. She didn't understand what Scarlett and Annabelle had said in French, but rampage had completely seized her heart. She was ready to explode from accumulated anger and venom. She felt black and ugly and unforgiving toward Annabelle and Scarlett. She couldn't hold back the tide of her hot anger, and she gave it voice.

"Look at these disgusting women! They are entertaining themselves. This is unforgiving!" Mrs Merriweather cried out. "Rude and ill-mannered women! Vile women! Low-grade women!"

"You are repugnant and unhallowed women!" Mrs Elsing yielded.

"Mrs Elsing and Mrs Merriweather, please calm down," Mrs Meade half moaned in her powerlessness to stop the scandal. "You began the scandal, not Scarlett and her friend."

Scarlett ignored Mrs Merriweather's spiteful comment. She stared at Annabelle with attention. "Whose words did you quote? It is a perfect generalization about fools."

"It is _Jean-Jacques Rousseau_, _mon ami_," Annabelle grinned.

"Mrs Elsing, Mrs Merriweather, let's go… Please… We are behind the schedule for the event in the church," Ms Meade pleaded.

"You are a trashy woman! How can you be Ellen Robillard's daughter?" Mrs Elsing allowed another rage outburst as she saw her failure to insult Scarlett.

"Don't ever touch my mother! As for my friend's and my dresses, you should better order from Europe the latest fashion catalogues to have a look on and save some money to be able to afford them. Mrs Meade, thank you again for being so different from them and all the best to you and your husband. Goodbye," Scarlett finished her long speech.

After the above, the Old Guard quickly bundled away from Annabelle and Scarlett.

"Goodbye, ladies," Mrs Meade said humbly as she turned around to Scarlett and Annabelle.

"Thank you, Mrs Meade," Scarlett sent to her a dazzling, grateful smile. "Goodbye."

"Have a nice evening. Goodbye," Annabelle said politely.

Scarlett's voice was so cold and confident and exhibited a certain combination of secular courtesy and unequaled mocking, which deeply shocked the Old Guard and made Annabelle start laughing quietly. Annabelle has always been fascinated with her friend's ability to be so ironic and shock people by her courtesy and simultaneous indifference. She found the scandalous talk they just had quite entertaining, which pushed her to laugh violently. Scarlett joined her. They were laughing so hard that small tears were forming in their eyes, which locked for a moment.

"Oh," Scarlett sighed. "Finally we got rid of them."

"Fortune favors the innocent," Annabelle smirked, her grey eyes smiling. "And we were innocent. We didn't began the scandal."

Scarlett's green eyes blazed at that. "Not so innocent. Later we provoked them."

"It was comical, darling."

"More or less." Scarlett shrugged.

"They preferred to infuriate us and eventually got what they deserved," Annabelle added.

"And we have become the object for new gossips here."

"You can always depend upon the word of liars and fools," Annabelle stated in a lambent voice.

Scarlett looked at her friend, her green eyes dancing with joy. "Bread and butter make a good, quick snack. Like gossips and lie."

"It was an unexpected surprise in this boring Atlanta."

"I don't care," Scarlett snapped carelessly. Sardonic smile touched her lips.

"And neither do I," Annabelle echoed. "_Rira bien qui rira le dernier (Who laughs last laughs best)_."

Scarlett and Annabelle resumed their laughing, loosing track of time and not looking at people passing by them in the street. Absorbed in their unexpected clash the Old Guard and further release of emotional tension and hilarity in their sincere laughing outburst, they didn't notice a tall well-dressed man in a brown three-piece suit, ideally tailored for his masculine-built body, and a red-haired woman in a blue gown with open back and unusually low neckline. They were getting out of the train station and unintentionally overheard the majority of the conversation between Scarlett and the Old Guard. This couple was apparently stunned by unexpected surprise of meeting Scarlett in Atlanta and what they overheard in the clash with the Old Guard. Now, they were just standing as if they were paralyzed on the back of meeting with a ghost, and were watching two laughing ladies.

Under the sudden internal feeling of anticipation, Scarlett quickly turned around, and her eyes locked with the amused eyes of this tall handsome man with dark tanned skin, coal eyes, and thick black hair. Scarlett managed to observe that this man immediately put his usual mask of blankness and indifference on his face. Scarlett stopped laughing, and her pretty face quite quickly returned its usual cold nonchalance and cool tranquility. The red-haired woman and Annabelle, who also stopped laughing, didn't notice a glitter of joy and hope in Scarlett's emerald orbs which appeared for a short moment and then was immediately replaced for cold indifference. Only one man knew Scarlett so well that he managed to notice this glitter in her eyes as he could see through her from any angle. This man was her ex-husband, Rhett Butler. Rhett and Belle were returning to Atlanta from their last visit to New Orleans when they met Scarlett and Annabelle in the street.

"Please accept our warm greetings for two the most special and beautiful ladies in Atlanta and the whole South," Rhett said in his usual cold mocking tone and put off his hat to welcome Scarlett and her friend. His eyes were as blank and emotionless as usual when he talked to Scarlett in the past.

"Good morning, sir. Nice to meet you and your companion here in this early hour," Scarlett politely answered, her eyes and tone colder than any iceberg in the northern part of Atlantic Ocean.

"A pleasure seeing you again, Madame," Rhett said with amused formality. Rhett's eyes quickly scanned Scarlett and Annabelle's appearance from the feet to the crown. Scarlett's polite indifference immediately attracted his attention.

"A pleasure indeed," Scarlett said calmly. "Miss Watling and Mr Butler, may I present my friend and third cousin from France _Annabelle Françoise Julienne de Robillard de Bréveaux_, _Countess de Morville_."

"Actually, it is a pleasant, yet a little unexpected surprise," Belle spelled out loudly, smiling smugly. She was observing Rhett's reaction. "Nice to meet you, ladies."

"Madame de Morville," Rhett greeted and gave her a formal bow. "I am delighted to meet you."

Scarlett turned her head to Annabelle and said: "Annabelle, may I introduce to you Rhett Butler, my old acquaintance from Charleston. His companion is Miss Belle Watling from Atlanta," Scarlett smiled coldly, her eyes studying Belle's figure and dress. A broad epigrammatic smile animated her face as she witnessed Belle's trampy tasteless gown and vividly painted face.

"I am happy to meet you, Mr Butler and Miss Watling," Annabelle said.

"It it such a nice day today," Belle said.

"The day is very fine, and it is not so cold," Annabelle answered and, looking on her pocket watch, added, "I am sorry, but we have to catch up our train soon. We have to leave now."

"Yes, Annabelle, let's go," Scarlett said to end the conversation. "Sorry for leaving you here."

"Goodbye, Madame… erm… O'Hara and Madame de Morville. Have a good day and a pleasant trip," Rhett finished the conversation with a broad smile on his face.

"Goodbye, ladies," Belle said her farewell words and stared at Rhett attentively.

"Mr Butler, you can call me Madame de Bréval," Scarlett said and gave him a neglectful glance.

Rhett smiled. "Thank you for telling me, Madame de Bréval."

"Goodbye, Mr Butler and Miss Watling," Scarlett replied.

"Hope to have a chance to see you again. I wish good day to both of you," Annabelle said.

Scarlett and Annabelle turned on their wheels and left. They entered the building of the railway station. Both of them smiled widely as they found the two happened meetings entertaining. In the meantime, both ladies felt relief that they left Rhett Butler and his companion so early. Scarlett was absorbed in her thoughts because she was deeply affected by the unexpected meeting of Belle and Rhett, while Annabelle was simply observing her, anticipating a stormy reaction once they were left alone.

"Welcome to Atlanta! We just had a double unrehearsed surprise during one single morning and a surprise in the yesterday's evening when we met Ashley," Scarlett said and sighed with relief when they were inside the building of the train station.

"I see how this city likes you. Paris treats me in the same way as Atlanta treats you," Annabelle teased. "We are so scandalous!"

"Yes, we are."

Annabelle's grey eyes kindled with merriment. "However, your reputation in Paris is better than mine, darling."

Scarlett stared at her friend, confounded. "Probably."

"For sure," Annabelle retorted.

Scarlett chuckled. "I think this is only because of my marriage to Mathieu as he was a truly honorable gentleman. I don't care what they say as soon as I have access to the beau monde of Europe."

"I agree."

A satisfied smile stirred Scarlett's lips. "These damned Atlanta newsmongers entertained me very well."

"Each of Rhett Butler's word and movement is sodden with nonchalance. The same is fair in your case if you want to wear your mask. I see that I was correct when I guessed that Rhett Butler had given the idea of indifference to you."

Scarlett's head bowed, and a slight frown marred her forehead. "Yes are right, Annabelle. Rhett was the first who began to play that game. But Mathieu was the first one who recommended me to try the same in order to protect myself."

"Mathieu did the right thing for you at that time because when you got married to him, you were too fragile," Annabelle commented. "Is Rhett Butler always so smug, so mocking, and always treating people with such sweet polite indifference? I would say that this is an overdone politeness," Annabelle said with curiosity as they bought the ticket in the ticket office and headed to the platform.

"Rhett has always been an indifferent mocking devil," Scarlett said confidently, looked away from Annabelle in order to keep her mind from straggling. "Rhett always laughs when others don't know what to say, expect something, and simply keep silent. He always insults and throws his prickly florid verbiages in chats when others tremble from embarrassment and indignation. He always wins when others are confused and lose in the whole game or battle. He always is at least one step ahead others as he knows people's weaknesses very well, uses them for his own advantage, and outmaneuvers them. He is a gambler and a blackguard, like you and I are. This is just Rhett Butler. You almost never know what he is up to say or do."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

**Scarlett's trip to Tara and Rhett and Belle's night**

When Scarlett and Annabelle successfully boarded the train for Jonesboro, Scarlett was lost in her thoughts, while Annabelle was keeping silent in the anticipation. She wanted Scarlett to begin the conversation. Annabelle knew that Scarlett was replaying in her mind the recent meeting with Rhett Butler because the conflict with the Old Guard was undoubtedly immaterial for her. They both were a little stunned by the recent meeting.

"Great balls of fire!" Scarlett cried out. "Rhett Butler is still living with this dreadful Watling creature. I don't understand what he found in her."

Annabelle looked contemplative. "She is the Madame of the largest whorehouse in Atlanta, isn't she?"

Whatever it was Scarlett felt now, she persuaded it couldn't be a deep feeling for Rhett. Love would not feel like this. She said to herself that she didn't care, but in fact she cared. As she imagined Rhett with Belle Watling, she felt her hurt, as if she were clutching shards of glass to her chest.

Scarlett grimaced. "Yes, she is. Belle Watling is so disgusting and so vile! She is a whore. By the way, Rhett is one of the owners of this whorehouse."

"Oh!" Annabelle's lips parted. "Even in Paris it would be scandalous."

A brief smile flitted across Scarlett's face. "Imagine how convenient it is – the owner of the brother sleeps with its administrator."

"Miss Watling is dressed like a usual prostitute, so tasteless and vulgar, although her dress wasn't very cheap," Annabelle answered.

Scarlett's face flushed with fury and the green eyes glittered with anger at Rhett. "In fact, as Rhett owns this establishment, he indirectly finances the purchases of her dresses."

"Holy mackerel!" Annabelle nearly whistled. "If Rhett buys the gowns for her, then I would say he has a bad taste, which is rather unlikely."

"No." Scarlett shook her head. "This woman buys the gowns by herself."

"I was shocked how she painted her face."

Scarlett shot her a look, her expression troubled. I agree. It is very vulgar."

"Is there anything wrong, my dear?"

"Nothing is wrong, Annabelle," Scarlett began. "It is just that Rhett hasn't changed at all. I am sure that he still sleeps with whores in the evening and continues pretending a proper man throughout the day."

"Scarlett, darling, what have you anticipated from him? You knew what he was like when you got married to him all these years ago."

"No, I didn't know how dangerous he was when I got married to him. I only started to realize this about the time of our divorce. And I felt the same again today when I saw his conceited, smiling face, the face of the great man he considers himself, always arrogant and always mocking."

"A holier-than-thou face," Annabelle added.

"Undoubtedly."

"Scarlett, Miss Belle Watling is not pretty at all. She cannot be compared to you, even if she is dressed like you," Annabelle responded.

Scarlett's face brightened. She cast a kind-hearted glance at her friend. "Thank you, Annabelle."

"Welcome, my dear."

Scarlett swallowed uncomfortably and looked away. "I hate him! I hate him!" she hissed.

Annabelle grinned at her. "Oh no, darling, you don't hate him. You love him. Don't deny it."

Scarlett drew a deep breath. "I hate him," she protested.

Annabelle let out a sincere laugh. "It is stupid from your side to deny your feelings to this man."

"Don't be a fool! I hate him!" Scarlett exclaimed. However, the green eyes revealed a fire of frustration and a sense of disdain and a glimpse of languish as she remembered how devilishly handsome Rhett looked when they met near the station.

Annabelle smiled cunningly. "Yes, yes, I agree," she mocked her.

"I don't care for him," Scarlett repeated.

"Rhett is a handsome man. His body is so masculine and tanned, so atypical for a gentleman. Rhett is indeed is a memorable man and can be recognized even in a huge crowd. No wonder he is a womanizer and a haunter of whorehouses," Annabelle commented. "Ashley Wilkes doesn't look as grand, handsome, and eye-catching as Rhett does."

"I hope Rhett won't be staying at the Atlanta National Hotel. Most likely, he will end up today at Belle's establishment and will be drinking and gambling." Scarlett sighed, and her lips twisted sardonically as venom started to dissolve in her bloodstream. "Rhett likes so much bedding this disgusting woman and other whores. This is favorite method to forget about problems."

Annabelle took her hand. Her fingers seemed cool against Scarlett's own. Her words sounded slow, gentle, and sincere. "Don't worry, my dear. Don't think about Rhett at least now. Now it is not time to talk about him." Annabelle gestured at the window. "Look, we are arriving soon."

Scarlett's green eyes registered the familiar views of Jonesboro. "Yes, we are."

Scarlett tumbled to a right idea because Rhett spent the whole evening at Belle's place after they had met Scarlett and Annabelle near the railway station. It was rather noisy when Rhett and Belle entered the saloon. Though there was plenty of music to be heard coming from various corners of the room, the small living room, adjacent to the saloon with card-tables, was silent. Belle passed through the empty room on Rhett's arm, and she was just stepping out on to the terrace when Rhett suddenly proposed going back to the saloon to play at the card-table. However, he stopped and suddenly strolled towards the low parapet that ran along the edge of the terrace. He stood leaning his hands on it and looking idly down on the floor with a rather contemptuous smile twisting his lips. Then he turned around, looked up, and commanded to go back to the saloon. Belle just shrugged because she understood the reason of Rhett's strange behavior. So that they went back to the saloon and both began to play.

"Will you play with me in piquet?" Rhett's voice resonated.

"Yes, I will."

"Nervous, darling?" Rhett said with an exterminative smile, his white teeth luminescent.

'"No, I am not, Rhett. You will find that I am not such a poor gamester as you may think." She sat down at the table and picked up one of the piquet packs that lay on it. "Did you arrange everything?"

"Certainly," he responded. "Do you want a glass of wine?"

"No, thank you," she declared, sitting rather straight in her chair.

Rhett sat down and slightly moved the cluster of candles on the table. He began to shuffle one of the packs. He asked: "Tell me, Belle, did you like our visit to New Orleans? A thousand pardons for my careless tone, my dear. You know that you stand very high in my esteem, but today is rather unusual day."

"I know, Rhett," Belle answered. "Shall we cut?"

She won the cut, and electing to deal, picked up the pack. She gave a little expert shake of her arm to throw back the heavy fall of lace at her elbow. She was far too keen a gambler to talk while she played. As soon as she touched the cards she had never a thought for anything else, but sat with a look of serious, unwavering concentration on her face, and she scarcely raised her eyes from her hand. The same was with Rhett who was rather concentrated, trying to focus on the game. They both needed this pause before the conversation about today's unexpected surprise they encountered near the railway station.

As Belle's opponent, Rhett gathered up his cards, glanced at them. Now he seemed to make up his mind what to discard without the smallest hesitation. Belle refused to let herself be hurried and took time over her own discard. Finally, Rhett lost the first game, by enough points to alarm him. Belle played very well, while Rhett wasn't able to focus on what he was doing. However, he won the second game in six quick hands. In the meantime, Rhett suspected that he had been allowed to win it. He held his tongue and in silence watched Belle deal the first hand of the final game. Now, being abstracted in his thoughts, Rhett knew that he played his cards shrewdly enough and his current weakness laid in counting the odds against finding a desired card in the pick-up. When he was himself, he never demonstrated this weakness and rather used this usual for players mistake against the opponents, but today it wasn't his day because of Scarlett.

Rhett raised his head and looked at Belle, forcing a fatigued smile. "You win today, and I fear rather largely. Today I cannot be a good opponent to you."

Later Rhett played with other visitors of the saloon. As a result, he was gambling a lot, but losing money during the whole evening, which usually happened when he was disappointed. The evening ended traditionally in Belle's suite. Rhett was drinking his favorite whisky, which he usually ordered from France. Belle was sitting quietly and didn't push him to begin the conversation, watching Rhett with curiosity and in anticipation.

In substance, Rhett was still stunned by his unexpected meeting with his former wife. When they met, he noticed how beautiful Scarlett looked in her new trendy velvet gown of deep-green color, which matched so much her emerald cat-like eyes. Rhett also discovered that Scarlett has changed a lot because she looked super-confident in what she was doing and saying under the mask of cold indifference and courtesy, which she was unable to put on her face during all the time he had known her before the divorce. For Rhett, Scarlett has always been like an open book, and he had always claimed that he could easily read her mind and that she was a poor liar. Earlier, he could predict what she would be saying and doing by looking at her face. All the emotions were written on her pretty face and were clear for him. At the train station Rhett saw his former wife from the new side: she was playing his old game, pretending strangers and masking her emotions and thoughts by indifference.

Rhett concluded that Scarlett seemed to be following so familiar for him a cat-and-mouse game, which he was often playing in with her. He, however, managed to discover the momentous shining in her emerald orbs, which he attributed to the joy of meeting him. At that short moment she was his old Scarlett whom he loved and knew genuinely. But the fact that she masked her feelings was unusual and new in its every sense for him.

As Rhett looked at her, Scarlett stole his breath away. She always had and without even knowing that she did so, even if he didn't want to acknowledge it even to himself. He had learned a long time ago that it was useless to fight the fascination and the feeling, but he still tried to fight them. His sanity would return or maybe not. It didn't matter in the least: Rhett still will remember Scarlett and she will always take his break away as he looks at her any day and in particular after such long estrangement.

"I wonder whether she is always so indifferent in treating people or it was done especially for me," Rhett said to himself loudly, as though forgetting that he was not alone in the room.

Rhett laughed bitterly as he asked himself whether his real emotions toward his former wife had changed since the day when he met her at Twelve Oaks and fell in love with her. There was no clear answer for him. His heart balanced somewhere in vacuum - on the border between burning hatred and terrible longing. Rhett forced out a smile.

Belle glared at him in a wait-and-see manner. "I had a good chance to estimate her manner of talking and her behavior."

"It didn't seem to me, did it?"

"No, it didn't, Rhett."

"Hmm…" he muttered under his breath.

"Scarlett was behaving in your own manner - cold indifference and politeness. It is your own old and usual mask. She seems to become a professional in masking herself."

"Yes, she is, Belle." The smile had quite vanished from his mouth, which had suddenly grown very stern.

"Rhett, you taught her a good lesson. Be proud of yourself, darling," Belle claimed with confidence and laughed outright at Rhett's behavior.

"I think it is her current usual manner of conversation. Now Scarlett should be the part of the European high society, and her status dictates certain norms and behavior style. However, her friend Annabelle… she seems to be more natural and more alive," Rhett continued his thought and poured another glass of whisky. He was not drunk and didn't plan to be, but thoughts about Scarlett were attacking him and he needed another drink desperately.

"She didn't like when you called her Madame O'Hara," Belle commented.

Rhett brought a glass to his lips and drained the last of whisky before turning to set the empty glass on a nearby mahogany table. "Instead, she even asked me to call her Madame… de… God knows what…"

"Don't take this into account, Rhett."

He shook his head in negative response, trying to convince himself. "I don't care."

"It looks like Scarlett is very rich," Belle admitted boldly, ignoring his bad mood. She looked at him in anticipation of confirmation of her thoughts. "I saw her dress and jewelry. It should be very expensive."

"I also noticed it, Belle, but not expensive, rather super-expensive. I recall the model of the dress she was wearing. I have ordered recently a dress of a similar model, but with a higher neckline and of different color and trim, for my sister Rosemary from one luxurious shop in Paris. She should be very rich. I just don't know why she has so much money… from the new noble husband, Marquis…. I forgot his surname."

She stared at him. "Pray continue."

"I used to buy a lot for her by myself, so I know the prices and places for luxury shopping. In fact, she should be visiting the shops where I have always used to buy something either for her or for one of mistresses," Rhett said in dreaminess.

"And she gave back to you all your money you gave her for divorce. It is quite impressive, darling," Belle commented.

"It is not impressive, Belle. She wanted to use it in the battle for my love in order to get me back."

"And where is this battle, Rhett? Scarlett got married to another man, and she never came back to you after you had thrown her out of your house in Charleston," Belle's eyes sparkled in the semidarkness of the room.

"She got married to that noble gentleman because she needed money to afford a luxury life. We have already discussed it," he snapped with negligence.

Belle shrugged her shoulders in uncertainty. "Yes, we have, darling. Who is the second girl?"

"Scarlett introduced her as Annabelle de Robillard."

"Who is she?"

"She should be one of Scarlett's relatives from the Robillards. Her mother's roots are in France, in the French high society."

"Madame Annabelle is very beautiful. It is a very rare, classic beauty. This lady has a nearly perfect beauty, and she will never be forgotten if she has been met even once," Belle remarked.

Rhett nodded. "I have noticed it. Scarlett's beauty is more exotic."

"More exotic, but also unforgettable and unique," Belle commented.

Rhett winced. "Yes."

"Besides, Madame Annabelle is very well-dressed. And. Most importantly, she was laughing with the same aloofness as Scarlett did," Belle mused.

"They are birds of a feather," he replied tartly. "Madame de Robillard… or Madame de Morville or Madame de Bréval – it is better to use Madame de Robillard. I hate all these complicated rules for addressing and for the titles."

"They seem to be close friends," Belle looked at Rhett interrogatively.

"Belle, I also think so. And their conversation with the Old Guard was really scandalous. Scarlett is still very brave, but she also learnt to be a brilliant wit."

"And she is apparently conceited of her own wit. At least it seems to me, darling."

"Yes, she is enjoying herself. After this scandalous talk with the Old Guard lots of gossips will spread in the town. She mentioned that she signed the divorce papers with a great please and that she got married to that French aristocrat. She didn't see us when she said this to address Mrs Merriweather's biting comment."

"I heard it." Belle stretched her body on the bed.

Rhett stood up and approached the window. "Is she indeed happy with this honorable French gentleman of hers?"

"Rhett, stop it. You again begin your obsession. You are tortured with the memories of her."

"Hush up, Belle. I know what to do," Rhett chuckled.

A scowl crossed Belle's features. "Rhett, you are always such a cad to people who care for you. You are a cruel scoundrel who knows everything and everybody. You often ignore other people's feelings. It is painful for them. Have you ever tried to consider this?"

"I am sorry, Belle. You know I care for you a lot. I didn't mean to insult you."

"I know, honey. You care for me, but don't love me," Belle exclaimed unexpectedly for herself.

"Belle, I love you in my own manner, as a friend, and I care for you a lot. Isn't that enough?"

"At times I envy Scarlett that she was loved so passionately and strongly by a man like you. She didn't appreciate it, and you left."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I left her because she had destroyed my life."

"I don't think that she loves her new husband. But what I know for sure is that you still love her, although you don't show your feelings to the outside world, Rhett."

"I don't love her. I am done with her. You are mistaken," Rhett reassured himself and Belle. His tone wasn't convincing.

Belle smothered a snort of laughter, and Rhett, amusement glittering in the dark blue eyes, turned to look. "In God's name, please don't make me laugh so hard, honey." Belle broke into a new loud sarcastic laugh.

Rhett rose to his feet and joined Belle on the bed, his expression cautious, but resolute. "What is going in the wise head of yours, my dear Belle?"

"You must understand yourself, Rhett," she admonished.

Rhett crossed his arms over his expansive chest. "I do understand myself," he contradicted. "Do stop wasting our time in vain, Belle. Tell me what you have wanted to say."

"Well," Belle began. "I am going to say once again that you love Scarlett and that you are poisoned with her. Nobody will replace her in your heart," she yelled with a new loud laugh. She stood up from the bed and relocated to the armchair.

"Belle, I don't care for her. I may desire her physically. She is beautiful. But nothing more, Belle," Rhett countered Belle and coughed.

"Rhett Butler, you are a fool if you want me to believe you."

"Belle, you let yourself too much even as an old friend of mine," he rose to his feet and stepped forward to the window.

"For Heaven's sake, Rhett! Don't stand there and talk nonsense!" she exclaimed.

Belle left her red velvet armchair and approached Rhett, who was still standing near the window and looking into the darkness of the street outside. She hugged Rhett from his back, making him turn around to her, and looked directly into his eyes, then continued, "Where are you going tomorrow?"

"Belle, darling, even if I had loved her, I would never allow myself to be trapped again. I don't want to be ruined. I was once almost destroyed by her. All what I want is peace. Not happiness but peace. I found it in Charleston. I am going there tomorrow morning."

"Good, Rhett. How is Silvia Ferdinanda? You still plan to marry her, don't you?" Belle jabbered.

"Yes, I will marry her. I told you about my reasoning… Most likely, she was going to Tara. And I am confident that she is in Atlanta to meet her wooden-headed Ashley Wilkes. She got bothered with her husband and now wants Ashley," Rhett told Belle with apparent regret in his voice.

"I don't think so. You are simply trying to think the worst of Scarlett as it makes it easier to persuade yourself that you don't love her and don't care for her."

"No, Belle," Rhett murmured against her mouth, urging her backward.

Belle smiled at him and exhaled nearly in his mouth. "In fact, you are just jealous of Scarlett's husband and Ashley."

"Belle, my darling, do we need to talk about it now?" His voice was hoarse as desire overcame him.

Rhett's hand grazed her breast, cupping it gently before continuing its downward journey. The folds of her silk skirts impeded him only slightly, and he was going to undress Belle now. He groaned when his hand finally slipped beneath the fabric and met the bare flesh of Belle's leg.

Belle clung to him, the sensation of his warm hand caressing her leg sending delicious thrills through her. "No, Rhett. But you must understand what I said."

The most primitive, demanding feelings rose up within Rhett, shaking him, making him aware of the naked hunger that coursed through his body. He needed physical release, and Belle was so close. He wanted her, he wanted her desperately.

"Stop thinking about it, darling. Hush up, darling, at least for now," Rhett murmured.

"Rhett, my dear Rhett…" Belle said in a half whisper.

Belle kissed Rhett in his lips passionately and showed in the direction of her large warm bed to give Rhett a sign what to do and where to go next. Rhett kissed Belle back. Their kiss was deep and warm. He pushed her head backwards.

"Belle, you know what I need," he grinned.

"I always know it," she said.

"Night is still young…" he muttered.

Belle kissed Rhett repeatedly, her fingers clenching and unclenching in his thick, jet-black hair. Then Belle began to unbutton Rhett's shirt, while Rhett unfastened several of the buttons on her back. Belle shifted toward him, closer to him, her body inviting his endearments. A prisoner of physical desire, Rhett groaned at her provocative actions. He wanted nothing more than to join them together and to unleash primitive hunger and passion that scrabbled through him. He didn't love Belle, but she could give him such a desirable physical release, but never emotional, like it was with Scarlett. Of course, Belle always welcomed him in her bed as her mind and body were united in a long, yearning heartache - her deep feelings for Rhett and desire for his touch.

Rhett and Belle were not only friends and lovers. They also shared their own secret for many years: their son Robert was born sixteen years ago. Although this wasn't an unusual situation for women of Belle's profession, she felt very special about this child. It was the children Rhett gave to her, her and Rhett's child, a child with the man whom she loved without any hope to be loved in return.

When their son Robert was born, Rhett offered to Belle a business arrangement, and she unconditionally accepted all Rhett's terms. Rhett agreed to pay all living and educational expenses and pledged to look after the boy as his legal guardian. However, Rhett insisted that Robert should never know the truth about his blood father. As a result, the boy was being raised alone in New Orleans at the boarding school, while his parents periodically visited him and loved him from distance. Robert has always considered Rhett to be only his legal guardian and his mother's friend. Belle's son had to be a legitimate orphan. After Belle had agreed to that business arrangement with Rhett, her own life continued on in a predictable fashion, but she still held a dream that one day something will change for her son.

Belle thought that it was unfair to her son Robert, but could do nothing about the matter. She couldn't dream that Rhett would ever claim the boy. She had no rights to insist on it. Subconsciously she knew that Rhett was unlikely to do it. The reason behind was also very clear to Belle: Rhett and Belle were from two different worlds. He was from the world of Southern gentlemen and the high society of the South, while she was only an owner of the whorehouse and a low-quality woman living in shame and social disgrace. Belle loved Rhett for many years, but she knew that he never loved and would never love her. Her love for Rhett wasn't a reciprocal feeling. Belle knew for many years that Rhett loved Scarlett whom he just pretended to have forgotten in the past years even in front of Belle. Belle was playing a role of a body for him, which gave him sexual pleasure and physical, but not emotional, release, because he didn't love her. Yet, she was his closest friend who knew him so well and could see what others were not allowed to. So many years ago, Belle accepted the circumstances in their cruel reality and learnt to love Rhett silently and their son distantly.

Later, when Rhett and Belle were lying in her enormous bed with their bodies wrapped with one another, she was thinking about her life and her son with Rhett. She was hurt because the boy still didn't know that Rhett was his father and called him Uncle Rhett, in a pretty awkward manner from Belle's standpoint. She wished all the best for her son and was determined to have a true answer on the question, which she wanted to ask Rhett all these years after her son's birth. She had never done this earlier in a direct way, but she felt that now it was high time for the verbalization of her question, dumb in her mind for such a long time.

Hoisting herself up on to one elbow, she stared down into Rhett's dark features, her heart almost stopping at the flare of joy and tenderness, which slid through her as she looked at him.

Watching the emotions play across Belle's face, Rhett stared at Belle. "What are you thinking of?"

"You," she said simply, dropping a kiss on his nose.

Rhett stretched luxuriously and grinned. "I would hope so, honey."

"I was thinking about you and Robert," she clarified.

Rhett smiled and pulled her next to him, settling her head in the crook of his shoulder. "We have a good son, Belle," he said.

Belle sighed. One hand lazily running up and down his arm, she asked cautiously: "Rhett, will you ever claim our son as yours?"

Rhett frowned. Her question startled him, and wide-awake now, he stared at her. He brushed her hand away, his black eyes narrowing. "Belle, please don't ask me about it." His voice trailed off.

Belle sat up and glared at him, a little frown creasing her forehead. "Please answer honestly, Rhett."

Rhett flinched at Belle's question. He shut his eyes. He was fighting the urge to disappear beneath the fine cream silky sheets as guilt and shame began to tear his heart apart. But putting his head under the sheets would only make him feel and appear even guiltier. God, what must he do with their son Robert? He didn't know. He loved his son with Belle, but he knew that claiming the boy and legalizing his parenthood would result in a flagrant scandal around the Butler name in Charleston and the whole South, especially given who Robert's mother was in reality. His mother Eleanor Butler was a classic proper lady of Charleston who desperately cared for respectability, decency, honor, reputation, and ceremoniousness. It was rather difficult to predict how she will act and hat she will think if Rhett declares his attention to claim Robert. It was possible that his mother Eleanor would recommend Rhett to tell Robert the truth about his father and then continue support him financially, never taking any legal actions to make Robert a true Butler by law. Another theme was that Rhett had already disgraced his own family in Charleston, if not in the whole South, very much in his youth and several years ago when he divorced Scarlett. Didn't he commit enough indecent, scandalous things that disgraced and dishonored his family? Does he have any right to do another thing – to claim his illegitimate son with a prostitute? At one side, it was a good, benevolent action, while at another side it was a scandalous, ignominious and discreditable thing. What was the correct decision in this situation? Rhett was confused, and each time he asked himself this question he postponed its consideration for tomorrow. It was so during all these years, so that Robert had never learnt that Rhett was his real father by blood.

Rhett sat up, his broad shoulders braced against the high headboard of the bed. "Belle, I don't know. It is a difficult, ambivalent matter, you know," he replied in his melodic, lingering voice with the flat slow drawl of a typical Charlestonian.

Recovering herself, unwilling to let Rhett see her pain, Belle gave a proud smile to him. "But he is your son and your own blood. You don't have any more children, at least legitimate ones."

"Well, you see," he began gently, "Belle, I care for my reputation. I have been punished enough for my past sins when Bonnie died. I am marrying a proper Charleston lady and cannot disgrace my family by claiming our son."

"I understand," Belle murmured in a sad, half desperate voice.

"Belle, I am sorry. I am truly sorry," Rhett whispered.

She blinked, opened her mouth, shut it, and blinked again. "Oh, Rhett."

"I have always taken care of him. I will do the same in the future. You have my word. He will be alright. I promise."

"I know, darling. I am just thinking about our boy. I miss him so much," Belle murmured quietly.

"I also miss him. He has grown up so much. He is a clever and smart boy. Now hush up Belle… Let's not touch this topic again," he sighed heavily.

"Fine, Rhett," she agreed, bitterness overcoming her heart.

A wide grin animated his swarthy face. "Nights with you are always so passionate that I am always exhausted."

Belle's thoughts were jumbled and chaotic. She knew she mustn't have asked him this question because the answer was quite predictable in advance. She sighed and managed a histrionic smile. "Your Belle knows what you need."

Rhett smiled. "Yes, you know."

She touched his face lightly. "I am."

"I am very tired, darling." The waves of sleep threatened to overtake Rhett, and he rubbed his eyes.

Pressing a warm kiss on Belle's cheek, Rhett pushed his body down on the pillows "Be happy, my dear. Goodnight." The he shut his eyes and drifted to peaceful sleep.

Belle leaned down and kissed him on his forehead. "Honey, goodnight."

As Belle said that and looked at Rhett, a lump suddenly formed in her throat. It promised to be a restless night for her as sleep was more than likely to escape her. Hiding the emotion that swelled inside of her, Belle blinked away hot tears. She didn't cry - she was beyond tears, had been beyond tears, but she didn't cry. She knew that it was in vain, so that she only sighed helplessly.

"Rhett, it is so pity that you cannot even pretend that you love me. I would thank God on the knees if you had loved me genuinely at least for a minute," Belle said to herself in her thoughts.

Feeling that Rhett had fallen asleep, Belle got out of the bed, quickly and quietly. She came to the chest of drawers in the corner of her large suite. She pulled one of the drawers and took the photo of a boy with raven hair and tanned skin, smiling at his mother from the picture. Her Robert son was so much like Rhett. This striking resemblance in appearance with Rhett made it unable for her to bring her son to Atlanta even for a short visit, and she had to constantly be longing for her baby boy who lived in New Orleans, studying at the boarding school, which Rhett chose for him. Although Robert was so similar to Rhett in his appearance, his character was different - he was a shy boy, easily embarrassed and bewildered by life. In addition, Robert was very smart and intelligent, like his father. He liked literature and mathematics and even astronomy, spending a lot of time reading. When Belle spent several days in New Orleans, at times she had to drag her son from the books. In many aspects Robert was very similar to Belle's lover and the father of her son – Rhett Butler.

Belle put the photo of her son back to the drawer and closed it nearly noiselessly. She went back to bed and climbed under the covers, stretching her body along white satin sheets. She looked at Rhett with longing in her eyes and sighed, knowing that he would never say to her what she had wanted to hear from this man for the last twenty years. A dart of jealousy to Scarlett went through her mind because Belle had understood pretty well, while his former wife had never understood and had never cared for him like Belle did. However, it quickly evaporated, leaving Belle only with an acid sense of pride for understanding him better than Scarlett. She clung to Rhett's chest, feeling his hot, smooth breath on her cheek. He was sleeping, and Belle smiled at him.

"You love Scarlett and you will always love her. Life is cruel and unfair. I am only the whore for everybody, but I am also a friend for you. Let it be so. I accept the terms of the game, Rhett," Belle finished her internal monologue and closed her eyes, snuggling tightly to Rhett's warm, masculine body, which she adored and loved so much.

In the morning, after the night with Belle, Rhett left Atlanta with the firm commitment to himself not to think about Scarlett. In fact, he was swearing to himself that he would try to forget Scarlett in all possible ways. However, the answer to the question who will win in this duel of hidden lust and passion with self-persuasion of being indifferent and uncaring for a green-eyed alluring and seductive wildcat was still open for Mister Rhett Butler.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

**Time at Tara: Scarlett and Mammy**

When the trained stopped at the railway station in Jonesboro, Scarlett's heart started fluttering with pure joy and longing for her home and her Mammy. Their hired a carriage to get to Tara from the station because Scarlett didn't send a telegram to Will to meet them at the station. At the sight of her old house which was visible from the carriage, happy tears started to form in Scarlett's eyes. She was so happy to be at home now, on the red earth of Tara.

Their arrival at Tara was quite expected because Will knew that Henry Hamilton would contact Scarlett. However, both Scarlett and Annabelle felt uncomfortable under Suellen's hard and envious gaze as she was greeting her sister and her French friend with poorly hidden disdain and abhorrence. Suellen also looked disapprovingly at Annabelle and insulted her publicly. Scarlett and Annabelle decided to ignore Suellen's bad mood and sharp comments and asked Will to tell her about Mammy. Will described Mammy's sickness in details, which turned out to be a sad story. Mammy was indeed very sick and was bedridden during the past month. She usually was sleeping almost the whole day and appeared not to be hungry, so at times Suellen or Will had to force-feed her by themselves. Mammy was suffering from pains in her back and legs and was very weak in general. Doctors ascribed her fragile health mainly to her old age and said that it was just a matter of time for Mammy to become weaker and eventually die. Scarlett's old loving nanny was gradually fading away, each day closer and closer to leaving her for Heaven to join her mistress Miss Ellen, Scarlett's mother.

"Scarlett, you told me that Suellen hates you, but she apparently feels a sort of disdain to me," Annabelle said confidently. "I also don't like her, but at least I don't show it in public."

"Don't pay attention to it, Annabelle. She doesn't hold her poisonous tongue back because she is envious to both of us. Besides, Suellen hasn't forgiven me for taking Frank from her, although it happened a long time ago and actually saved our family from being thrown to the street," Scarlett elaborated on the topic and sighed heavily.

"I can understand her because you did…erm… not very proper thing, but anyway there is too much venom in her body," Annabelle objected. "This is too much… And her disgusting insults…"

"Annabelle, I am sorry for Suellen's treatment of you. Please, try not to pay too much attention to her," Scarlett apologized and forced a smile to her face.

"I don't care, Scarlett. I am just stating the fact that her behavior is disgusting," Annabelle elucidated.

"Yes, it is."

Annabelle sighed. "I am not astonished that you cannot reconcile with Suellen."

At Tara Scarlett's days were typical - she spent all the day with Mammy in her room. Mammy was always sleeping and rarely was awake just to have her meal, usually from Scarlett's hands. The old woman was very happy that her dear lamb finally came to her to Tara when she was at her mortality. Day by day, night by nigh, Scarlett spent with Mammy in her room, tired but unwilling to leave her the side of her bed. Annabelle and Suellen changed Scarlett from time to time, but she was so loyal to Mammy that eventually even started to sleep in her room in the chair, being afraid that the old nanny will die during the night. In this routine kind, a week has passed.

One evening, as usual, Scarlett was sitting on Mammy's bed and was holding her right hand, while gently touching by her left one Mammy's cheek. Scarlett was lost in her thoughts. She remembered her childhood, her mother and her father, the antebellum time, all those barbeques and balls and picnics in the County, her childhood friends – everything from the Old South. The old days were gone, but these days were her happy childhood, and she would never forget them. That was the happiest time in her life, she thought. Absorbed in her thought, Scarlett didn't notice that Mammy awoke and stared at her mistress with longing in her dark eyes.

"My lamb, you are here," Mammy started the conversation in a very weak voice.

A cozy fire burning in the heart, Scarlett smiled at Mammy. "Of course, I am here. Where else can I be?"

"I thought that you would not find me alive when you come home," Mammy confessed.

Scarlett's heart collapsed at the thought of Mammy's death. "Mammy, don't even think about it."

Mammy shook her head. "I am old enough to die."

"Oh, Mammy, my dear Mammy," Scarlett whispered lovingly.

Mammy gave a tender glance to her. "I was very worried about you. Where have you been all this time?"

"Mammy, you are awake! Thanks Good! I was off to Europe. I visited London, Paris, Roma, Madrid, Vienna, Geneva, Venice, Naples, and many other interesting places. Finally, I settled down in Paris. I am happy now, Mammy. I feel much better now than two years ago," Scarlett answered and put her hand on Mammy's forehead.

"Miss Scarlett, I am happy for you. Your life should be interesting. Miss Suellen told me that you had got married in Europe, but in your letters that Miss Suellen was reading to me you didn't tell in details about your life. I know you could not do it. Tell me now the truth why you ran away to Europe and what happened with you, my lamb," the old woman closed her eyes as tiredness was gradually capturing her.

"Mammy, please you must rest. Don't worry. I love you," Scarlett whispered lovingly to her old nanny.

"My lamb, I am old and know that you don't tell me truth. I am dying and I want you to be happy. Tell me the truth. What happened with you, Miss Scarlett?" Mammy questioned.

"Mammy, I cannot do it. It is very complicated. Everything is so strange," Scarlett murmured.

"Miss Scarlett, why did you leave? Is it about Mister Rhett?"

"Yes."

Mammy's dark eyes turned sad. "What else has he done?"

"Alright, I will tell you." Scarlett sighed. A flicker of anxiety in her eyes, she glanced at Mammy. "Do you remember the letter I showed to you? I mean the letter that Rhett left for me after the night I had spent a night with him in Charleston?"

"Yes, I remember, Miss Scarlett," Mammy whispered.

"Rhett said that he didn't love me and left me. When I was in Savannah on my grandfather's funeral, I realized that I got pregnant by him. I went back to Charleston to tell him happy news, but he didn't give the chance to me to do that and made me leave the house. So I had to leave the whole South to avoid the shame of having an out-of-wedlock child." Scarlett paused momentarily.

She stared at Mammy with an intense gaze, which was full of sorrow and pain. Mammy started crying quietly for her lamb.

"My lamb! My poor lamb!" Mammy murmured.

"I went to London because I wanted to visit the city where Bonnie and Rhett had been just before… before Bonnie's death… On my way there I got acquainted with _Mathieu __Paul Louis __de Harlay de Champvallon_, _13th Marquis de Bréval_, who is a wealthy nobleman from France. We became friends, and I told him the truth about my problems. Mathieu married me in London. I did it for the child I was carrying. I needed to save me, the child, and my family from shame and disgrace. Later, my husband died. I am a widow again," Scarlett kissed Mammy, making their salty tears be mixed up.

"And what happened later, Miss Scarlett?" Mammy blinked away her tears.

"On July 1874, I had twins, two daughters, Blanche and Isabelle. They are one year and three months old now. I love them so much… love unconditionally... Mammy. I have never been so happy as I was at that moment! I have just realized what motherhood means when they were born. I am so lucky to have them! They are like a gift from Heaven for me," Scarlett made a pause and then continued with a deep sigh, "They are with me in Georgia, in Atlanta now. Nobody knows about them and about this story in details, except for Annabelle, my cousin and friend form the Robillard family in France."

"Does Mister Rhett know? You must tell him everything, all the truth. He loved our small Miss Bonnie so much," Mammy mumbled in a low, shaking voice.

"No, Mammy, I cannot do this! Don't ask me about!" Scarlett objected wholeheartedly, "Rhett doesn't deserve it because he treated me so badly! He caused me so much pain."

"Miss Scarlett, you must tell him because he is their father. Mister Rhett loves you. He couldn't stop loving you, despite divorce… He is just too stubborn in his desire to prove himself that he can live without you," Mammy babbled quietly, her eyes sparkling with love for Scarlett.

"No." She met Mammy's eyes. "Don't ask me about it again. I said that I won't do this. It is my final decision. Rhett lost all his rights for me when he divorced me and pulled me out of his house to the darkness, in cold and rain. He doesn't give a damn and I also don't give a damn," Scarlett told Mammy.

Mammy held her gaze. "You love him, Miss Scarlett. I know. I see this in your eyes. Don't lie to old Mammy," the old woman countered. "You need to be loved and your children need a father."

"Mammy, I will tell Rhett the truth only if he apologizes and understands how cruel and unfair he treated me," Scarlett said in an imperative tone, not leaving Mammy a room for any objections.

"My poor lamb, you need love. You shouldn't be like Miss Ellen…" she muttered.

"Mammy, my dear Mammy…" Scarlett murmured in a tender voice. When she heard that she couldn't be like Miss Ellen, she recalled the story about Philippe Robillard and her mother Ellen. "What do you mean by being like my mother? Do you mean her love for Philippe Robillard?"

"Miss Ellen loved him till her dying day," Mammy replied in a low voice. "She called him on the day of her death."

"I remember. You once told me about it when we were at Tara in the war time. It was immediately after my mother's death when I asked you about her last words. On that time I had enough to do and thus didn't think about it. Maybe, I was simply empty-headed and therefore it slipped my mind very quickly. But later I remembered this episode and your words. I began to think about it after Rhett had left me in Atlanta on the day of Melanie's death. I remembered my mother and her always moderate state of mind and always ensconced emotions. Now I understand why she behaved so and what was going on in her heart."

"Miss Ellen loved Mister Philippe so much, but he died. She got married to Mister Gerald and was happy with what she had, with what God let her have," Mammy said with difficulty, in a hoarse voice. "But Mister Rhett is alive. My lamb, you need to talk to him. You must sort the things out. You can do this."

"Rhett has to do the first step. He must want to have the children with me. He also must want to have normal, human marriage. I will never throw myself at him again!" Scarlett returned the verdict. "Mammy, what was like my mother's love for Philippe?"

"It was a deep, sincere feeling. At first I hoped that it was just a childish infatuation for Miss Ellen. But years were passing, and Miss Ellen still loved him. She silently loved Mister Philippe. " Mammy paused and sighed heavily. "She loved only Mister Philippe. She had never forgotten him," she repeated.

Scarlett remembered her mother Ellen very well. Ellen Robillard was a very beautiful woman, but there was no any glow in her dark brown eyes. There was no any responsive warmth in her smile or any spontaneity in her voice as she spoke with her family and her servants. She spoke in the soft voice of the coastal Georgian, which was liquid of vowels and had a slight trace of French accent. Ellen never raised her voice in command to a servant or reproof to a child. However, her voice was obeyed instantly at Tara, where Gerald O'Hara's blustering and roaring were quietly disregarded. Scarlett remembered that Ellen's spirit always was calm and seemed to be even peaceful, even after the deaths of her three baby sons. She had never seen her mother stirred from her austere, unconditional placidity. What is so because of Ellen's disinterest in life after Philippe Robillard's death?

Her throat aching with unshed tears, Scarlett glanced away. She whispered in a low tone: "Oh, Mammy…" Her voice was quiet yet carrying. "My poor mother hid this secret from everybody."

Mammy's dark eyes flickered. "Yes, she hid it. But I knew that she had loved him."

"Of course, you knew. I think nobody knew my mother better than you did."

"Maybe, it would be better if your grandfather Pierre let Miss Ellen marry Philippe. I don't know. But Mister Gerald loved your mother very much, my lamb."

Scarlett inhaled. "I know, Mammy. My father was a very good father. I love him dearly."

"Mister Gerald loved Miss Ellen."

"Indeed, he loved my mother. I am proud of him." Scarlett bestowed a sincere smile. "Who was Philippe like? How did he die?"

Mammy began to talk, slowly as though asserting each word. "Mister Philippe was Miss Ellen's very handsome cousin. His full name was _Philippe Julien Louis Robillard_. He was Miss Geneviève and Mister Christophe's son."

"Geneviève and Christophe?"

"Miss Geneviève and Mister Christophe," Mammy repeated.

"Christophe should be my grandfather Pierre's brother and Philippe Robillard's father."

"Yes, Mister Christophe was Mister Philippe's father. Miss Geneviève was his mother. She was French. They died a long time ago."

"How did they die?"

"Miss Geneviève was sick for many months. Then she died," Mammy paused. As she gathered her strengths, she went on. "The doctors couldn't help her."

"And what happened with Christophe?"

"Mister Christophe killed himself."

The revelation clutched at her throat. "Oh my Lord!" Scarlett exclaimed. "I didn't know. Nobody told me about it. This is such a terrible tragedy!" She swallowed with difficulty. She felt her eyes film over, and she burst into tears. Something inside of her had snapped, and her entire body shook with the force of the sobs that racked her slender form.

"My poor lamb," Mammy whimpered. She stared at her helplessly for a second.

"Please continue. I will be fine," Scarlett stated sulkily as she hastily scrubbed away a betraying tear.

"Mister Christophe was grieving for the loss of his wife," Mammy muttered. "He was not himself after Miss Geneviève's death."

"This is awful!"

"Poor Mister Philippe became an orphan when he was ten years old."

"He was a child at that time," Scarlett said in a soft voice. Melancholy overcame her as she imagined Philippe Robillard's feelings in that disastrous period of his life. "Philippe stayed with my grandfather Pierre at his house in Savannah, didn't he?"

"Yes," Mammy sighed heavily. There was a long pause when Mammy was resting.

Thinking the silence had lasted long enough, Scarlett impatiently asked: "What happened further?"

Mammy sighed. "Mister Philippe was an unhappy child. Your grandfather Pierre didn't like him. He had always scolded and insulted him."

Scarlett shrugged helplessly. "Why? He was just a child."

"Mister Pierre always told everybody that young Mister Philippe had been running wild. Mister Pierre said that Mister Christophe had failed to educate his son what had been bad and what had been good."

"Philippe was wild, wasn't he?"

"Yes." Mammy nodded. "But he was not wild, but unhappy and very unusual."

"Unusual?"

"Yes."

"Did Philippe like Savannah?"

"No." Mammy shook her head. "Mister Philippe hated Savannah and the rules of routine local society. He felt imprisoned in Savannah."

"I can imagine," Scarlett said and smiled heartily. "I suppose Philippe considered Savannah to be boring. He had nothing to do in this routine, monotonous city, so that he could make things, which Southern ladies and gentlemen didn't understand and considered to be wild. I don't think he was so wild."

"Mister Philippe liked everything French - French literature, French people, French food," Mammy said.

"Did Philippe have any resemblance to his father Christophe?" Scarlett asked.

"Only a subtle, Miss Scarlett. Mister Philippe took more after his grandfather Arnaud who is your great-grandfather. Mister Christophe had always said so."

Scarlett sighed. "It appears that he was very unusual."

"He was very unusual, my lamb," Mammy said. "He was very clever and very… " She paused. She was thinking.

"Courageous and high-minded?" Scarlett offered.

Mammy stared at her. "Yes, my lamb," she said. She closed her eyes as fatigue overcame her. However, Scarlett knew that the old woman was reminiscing and thinking. She finally added: "Mister Philippe was kind."

"My dear Mammy," Scarlett said tenderly. She took her large dark hands in her. She felt Mammy's fingers trembled in her. She squeezed her hand gently. "Thank you for telling me about him."

"Young Mister Philippe was very handsome," Mammy smiled as she remembered Philippe. "He had jet-black hair and very dark brown, nearly black eyes."

"Like many Robillards whom I got acquainted with in France. Usually, the Robillards tend to have either green or black eyes and either alabaster or a little swarthy skin," Scarlett said and smiled. "This is the family of the contrasts in some aspects, but general dark handsomeness is applicable nearly to all the Robillards."

"I still remember Mister Philippe's face," Mammy paused. She sighed heavily. Scarlett squeezed her hand. "During the war I once thought that I had seen your mother with a man like Mister Philippe."

Scarlett sucked in her breath sharply. Her eyes flew wide. "What? What?"

"That man looked so much like Mister Philippe, but he was older. But his voice didn't sound like Mister Philippe's voice."

"Mammy, Philippe Robillard died."

"Of course, Mister Philippe died," Mammy grimaced.

"Then what are you talking about?"

"I mean that I saw your mother talking to a man who resembled Mister Philippe, but he was older. But that man was talking in such a strange manner," Mammy confessed.

"How was he talking?"

"Miss Scarlett, his voice sounded cold and far away. Besides, there was no our Southern accent in his voice."

Her heart knocking painfully against her ribs, an odd fluttering sensation in the pit of her stomach, Scarlett asked: "Where was my father at that time?"

"Mister Gerald went to Atlanta after he had learnt that you had danced with Mister Rhett at that bazaar."

"What was that unknown man doing with my mother?" Scarlett continued.

"He came to Tara. I don't know why," Mammy paused. She was signing heavily.

Scarlett knew that Mammy had been tired. She rose to her feet, approached the table, and poured out the glass of water. She decided to give Mammy time to rest. Anyway, they had to continue their conversation. Scarlett felt as though she was suffocating.

"Mammy, my dear," Scarlett started. She leaned over Mammy and slightly bent her head. "Please drink some water." Awkwardly, she lifted Mammy, helping her to sit in the bed. "You need to rest a little. We will talk later."

Mammy drifted into restless sleep. She was tossing her head on the pillow. Scarlett was staying near her bed, thinking and guessing what it had meant that a strange unknown man had visited her mother at Tara. Around two hours passed in a routine kind, and Mammy opened her eyes. She called for Scarlett.

"Miss Scarlett!" Mammy whispered in a weak voice. "Miss Scarlett!"

"I am here, Mammy. I was staying with you while you were sleeping. Do you feel better now?"

"Yes, my lamb," Mammy muttered under her breath. She opened her eyes widely. "Miss Scarlett, it was in the evening. The light was gone. But I saw that man. I saw Miss Ellen and him on the road. He was standing near the carriage. Then he climbed into the carriage and left."

"Mammy, are you sure you can talk now?"

"Yes, Miss Scarlett," Mammy assured.

Feeling some relief, Scarlett decided to continue their conversation. She shook her spinning head, trying to find way out of this strange mess of events. "Who was that man?" she asked softly.

"I don't know," Mammy murmured.

"What did my mother say about him?" Scarlett questioned.

"My lamb, you know me very well," Mammy smiled faintly.

"Mammy, I can imagine how angry you were that my mother had been talking with that unknown man." She smiled vaguely at her last words. Mammy had always scolded Scarlett and her sisters for what she had thought to be improper behavior.

Mammy was talking very slowly; each word was coming from her mouth with effort. "There was nothing improper between them. Miss Ellen seemed to give him her farewell words as that man was leaving. At that day, Miss Ellen was very secretive. She said that it had been one of her French relatives who had visited her. She said nothing more and ordered me to tell nobody what she had seen. I saw that she felt uncomfortable. She also looked rather anxious in the next days. Nobody saw it, but I noticed."

Her green eyes shimmering, Scarlett sighed. "It sounds strange," she spat.

"I told nobody about it. You are the first person," Mammy confessed.

"That man could be one of the French Robillards as many of them have a certain resemblance to each other. So this man could have resembled Philippe."

"It seemed to me that he had looked like Mister Philippe," Mammy continued. "But I was quite far from the road."

"I think it was indeed one of the French Robillards. In the light of this traditional dark handsomeness with dark hair and black, dark brown or green eyes, many of them may seem to resemble each other. The exception is m Annabelle, with her dark blonde hair and with her grey eyes, probably because of her half Scottish blood, as well few others. The Robillards tend to be dark-haired. Many of them have soft black, blue-black or jet-black hair. Also, they can have deepest brown, dark brown, chestnut brown, medium brown or rarer light brown hair," she paused and recalled Armand, _ash blonde Adonis_ of Paris. She smiled. "There is only one light ash blonde man with very pale green eyes among the Robillards - Armand. He is my close friend."

"In this case that was indeed somebody from Miss Ellen's French relatives," Mammy said uncertainly.

Scarlett nodded in agreement. "Of course."

"Oh, God! I forgot to mention that my daughter Isabelle has unusual color of her eyes – midnight green, very dark green. And her hair is not like mine or Rhett's – it is very dark ash blonde. I don't know why it is so. Mammy, you saw that another daughter of mine had taken so much after both Bonnie and Rhett."

"Miss Scarlett, Isabelle, your dark green-eyed girl, has your skin - magnolia-white skin."

"I know, but her hair. I remember nobody with such hair among our relatives, except for Armand, but the hue of Armand's hair is a lighter ash blonde," Scarlett said in a calmly voice.

"Miss Scarlett…" Mammy shut her eyes. She wanted to say something, but closed her mouth. "My lamb…"

Scarlett looked anxious. "What happened, Mammy?"

"Everything is fine," Mammy said very slowly, her voice unsteady. She didn't look at Scarlett.

"I hope so."

"Maybe, Miss Ellen didn't want Mister Gerald know to know about the visit of that man, because he knew about her former passion for Mister Philippe, thinking that that passion had faded away."

Scarlett sighed as Mammy changed the topic. "Naturally," she her head in agreement. "Besides, my grandfather Pierre made it clear that he hadn't approved of my mother's marriage. Perhaps, mother didn't want to disturb my father with memories about the Robillards."

Mammy shrugged in confusion. "Maybe, it was so, my lamb. Do you like your relatives from France?"

"Oh God, yes!" Scarlett replied without any hesitation. "They have strong family bonds to each other. I don't know why my grandfather Pierre didn't keep in touch with them after he had moved to the South of the United States with his brother Christophe."

"My lamb, I don't know," Mammy muttered under her breath. She closed her eyes.

"I asked the Robillards in France, but they seem to avoid this topic. They hate talking about this."

"I don't know, Miss Scarlett," Mammy whispered. Her voice had dropped to almost quiet, but it was still edged with sorrow.

"Mammy, did Philippe love my mother?" Scarlett inquired.

"No doubt he loved her very much. Miss Ellen was everything for him. His eyes were happy when she was near him."

"Oh Mammy…" Scarlett was beyond tears. A feeling of morbid sorrow slashed through her. Pain settled against her skin like a burning net. "How did Philippe Robillard die? Can you please tell me everything what you know?" She leaned over her and dropped a light kiss on Mammy's warm forehead.

"Yes, I can," Mammy nodded. "But I don't know much."

Her mother Ellen's first cousin Philippe Robillard was dark-haired, black-eyed cousin, always adventuresome and audacious, with his snapping eyes, his eccentric tricks, and his extravagant behavior. He had been known for his unusual tricks and eccentric behavior as he could stand up in the middle of the tea party or charity event, bow to everybody, apologize, and leave, demonstrating that he wasn't interested in the social life of the community of Savannah. Philippe was always bored with all the proper, acceptable events which were usually attended by Southern gentleman and ladies. He liked spending time on his own or with few of his friends. As the old matrons and their husbands met him in the street, his black eyes always betrayed the feeling of boredom he had felt in Savannah. He had always been direct and could talk in front of the old matrons of Savannah about France and the life in the French high society, comparing the archaistic Old South with the French society. Philippe openly demonstrated how he loved everything French and only French, but he could do that so abruptly and so straightforwardly that townspeople felt embarrassed and even intimidated. He had always been very bold in his suggestions, in his criticism, and his assumptions, which let the city inhabitants consider him to be violent and wild. He was the only young man in Savannah who could behave in such a relaxed, careless manner, showing his boredom and mocking the Old South. In addition, Philippe showed that he didn't like slavery and was against that so common and usual phenomenon for the Old South. Such an unconventional image Philippe Robillard had among the lay audience of Savannah.

Scarlett learnt from Mammy's story that Philippe Robillard had mysteriously died in a barroom brawl in New Orleans, as it was reported in a brief letter from the local priest. Mammy said that the priest had also given Ellen the package containing a small miniature of Ellen and four letters in her own handwriting to Philippe. That package was with Philippe when he was found dead. Why didn't he answer to Ellen's letters and still kept her miniature? Why did he leave Ellen in Savannah? What did he think Ellen would do without him? What happened with Philippe Robillard in reality? Where was he buried? Where exactly is his tomb, apart from that known fact that it was somewhere in New Orleans? Scarlett didn't know whether her grandfather Pierre Robillard went to New Orleans to attend the funeral, and when she asked Mammy about that, the old woman trembled and said that she didn't know.

No further details were discovered about Philippe's death, but Scarlett's mother Ellen Robillard continued to love him. Scarlett wanted to know more about Philippe as she suddenly felt something unexplained and strange in her heart. Unfortunately, Mammy's story was quite short - the old woman appeared not to have much information about the story of Philippe's death. No great details about his death, no place with the tomb, no details about the reasons of going to New Orleans from Savannah! Scarlett didn't comprehend why Philippe had come to New Orleans, but she found all the above very strange. What was stranger was that the fact that she felt a strong desire to know more about Philippe and felt somehow tied to him or, perhaps, tied to her mother's destiny of loving a man who abandoned her, a fate of loving him till her dying day, as she mused.

Ten days passed. Mammy felt worse and worse each day, and finally she started to rattle in her throat then she tried to talk. Annabelle travelled between Tara and Atlanta, and she was helping Scarlett greatly. She checked on children, spent some time with them, and got back to Scarlett. One day Mammy requested to see Scarlett's children, and Annabelle had to bring them from Atlanta to Tara. Suellen and Will were astonished and a little suspicious, as Scarlett concluded, when they saw two girls, but asked nothing. Scarlett told them that she had got married and that after the children were born, her husband died soon, leaving her with her daughters and his small son from the previous marriage. Scarlett decided that it was enough for them.

When Mammy saw the girls, she was extremely happy. She kissed both Blanche and Isabelle on their cheeks and forehead and blessed them. After this brief meeting, Scarlett asked Annabelle to bring children back to Atlanta. She didn't want them to be for a long time at Tara and was thinking that it would be unfair to leave Charles alone. Scarlett also asked Annabelle to stay with the children in Atlanta for several days more. She didn't like the idea of leaving them again, but could do nothing about. She couldn't leave her Mammy alone.

Deals at Tara were going in a routine manner. Will was actively involved in everyday household work and spent almost all time in the fields or was doing something with the cattle. Cotton was still the heartbeat of the reviving economy of Georgia, and the planting and the picking were the avocation of the red earth of the County. The land of Georgia was still as fertile as before the war and could produce the cotton abundantly. Scarlett was happy that Tara was functioning well as the cotton plantation because Will managed to administer all the fields work very wisely and well and enough workers from darkies were hired for these activities. Will invested all the money in the planting and picking of cotton, reclamation of unworn land, and fertilization of land, in fact leaving not much for the everyday life of his and Suellen's quite large family. He was a talented farmer, as Scarlett with satisfaction concluded.

Scarlett swept her green eyes over the fields and the old white house, feeling as her heart was filling with pure joy and unconditional love. In all times of her life, in richness and in poverty, in happiness and grief, she came here, to her roots – to her Pa and Ma, Mammy, her sisters, and this bright-red soil, red like human blood. They typified the whole world for her, world of her childhood and happiness. It was her home she had been longing for very much. Tara was her strength and her origin, her life and her shelter where she could always find refuge for her lonely and afflicted soul. Scarlett's love for this land was one part of her personality which didn't change when all else was changing and she was changing and which would never change for Scarlett even if the whole civilization is stamped out of existence. She knew that wherever she lived or traveled – Europe or the South of the States, she would eventually come here, to her origin. She mused that she was half Irish, and the love for her roots and her land was in her blood, as well as her love for Rhett, as it seemed to her. Indeed, in several years she will come here again, hopefully, happier than she was now.

For Scarlett, Tara was worth fighting for and sacrificing for, and she has been taking it for granted since her early youth. Now when she saw that Tara was in a satisfactory state because of Will's extensive investments in the production of cotton and fields work, she wanted to help him financially to restore Tara to its former grandeur state. Yes, she decided that she would give him money and accept no objections. Her Pa would be happy to know that Tara was thriving as in the antebellum time.

At Tara everything was in a routine kind. Suellen was managing her four children and was actively involved in housework. As usual, she challenged Scarlett in everything and constantly reminded her about her past sins and wrongdoings. Scarlett tried to avoid clashes with her sister, and Will asked Suellen to be more polite and understanding at least for Mammy's sake. But all was said to Suellen in vain. Suellen hated Scarlett for taking Frank from her a long time ago, for being the first child in their father's heart, for being rich and beautiful, and for being so resilient to her attempts to insult her. Suellen's temper was boiling, and she considered taking revenge for her own good, as she thought. When Annabelle brought children from Atlanta, Suellen started to suspect that Scarlett lied about their father. Yes, she believed that Scarlett had become another man's wife, but the daughters looked so much like Rhett Butler whom Suellen remembered. She suspected that Rhett was their real father, but kept silent. Her evil head worked out a wily plan of revenge – she considered telling Rhett about his children because she was sure that he didn't know about them. She hated Scarlett so much. However, Will warned her possible actions and ordered her to keep silent and not to intrude in Scarlett's deals.

One evening Mammy asked about Rhett. She wanted to see him before she dies. Therefore, although Scarlett didn't want to, she asked Will to send to Rhett the telegram to come to Tara. The telegram was finally sent to Rhett's address in Charleston, but another week has passed and no answer followed. Scarlett thought that he may be travelling or drinking at Belle's establishment. This thought struck her immediately when she remembered their meeting near the railway station. She was afraid of Rhett seeing children in Atlanta, and, given that the situation with Mammy was becoming worse and worse, she decided to go to Atlanta tomorrow morning for the first thing and ask Annabelle to accompany the children back to Paris. She had to do this just in case she had to spend more time in Atlanta and Tara, which will eventually lead to taking greater risks of her sweet secret being discovered by unwanted people.

Once in the evening, Scarlett and Suellen were sitting in the living room when disturbed Will came in. Apparently very worried, he took his seat on the sofa near Suellen.

"Suellen and Scarlett, I must tell you something. As I know, a large gang of criminals from Texas has been terrorizing local farms in Georgia for the past several weeks. The Tarleton plantation and house were attacked and robbed today, and the actions towards household members were violent. Several servants were killed. They took everything what they could carry. We should be very careful."

"God's nightgown!" Scarlett cried out. "And what is sheriff saying about? We should call on Beatrice Tarleton and ask whether she needs any help." Her voice revealed her anxiety over the situation.

"Sheriff cannot say much as the government officials don't know. They are searching for these criminals, but failed to arrest them so far. We should just be careful," Will supplied.

Having known about this, Scarlett's decision to ask Annabelle to bring children back to France seemed even more logical. Nobody knew whether Tara could be attacked by these criminals wandering in Georgia and what would happen.

"Will, I am leaving tomorrow morning for Atlanta. I need to meet Annabelle and spend some time with children. I will be back soon, in several days," Scarlett said quietly.

"Don't forget to bring money with you, my dear sister. We are not obliged to buy food for you," Suellen giggled spitefully.

"Suellen, stop this!" Will cried out and left the sofa to approach Suellen. "Shut up!"

Scarlett's emotions were thrown into a mixture of distress, complete confusion, and anger. "It is fine, Will. I don't give a damn. I am planning on taking quite much with me to give to Will for the restoration of the house. We need to do this," she said and paused for the moment, pretty irritated by the situation. "Given the situation in Georgia, I have made up my mind that the children will be travelling back to Europe next week. Besides, I don't know how long I will be here. I cannot leave Mammy."

"Thank you for the money, but it is not necessary," Will objected.

The green eyes fixed on Will's face. "Will, please don't object. Tara is our home, and I want to see it as it was before the war, prosperous and grand."

"But Scarlett…" Will said.

She interrupted this speech by reaching for his hand. Instead of taking it in her own, however, she shook it firmly, as if she were embarking on a business deal. "You will do," she said. "You will take the money."

Will surrendered. "Fine, Scarlett," he muttered.

She smiled heartily. "Thank you, Will."

"Scarlett, it is a wise decision to send the children away from Atlanta. I understand you. Stay calm and go to Atlanta. I will contact you if something happens with Mammy," Will said.

"Thank you, Will. Now I will check on Mammy. Goodnight," Scarlett exclaimed and headed upstairs.

"Goodnight, Scarlett."


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

**Scarlett and Ashley: a new level of understanding**

This morning Scarlett was leaving Tara. She was going to Atlanta. Scarlett and Will were riding in the wagon to the railway station in the center of Jonesboro. Will accompanied Scarlett to secure her safety. Both were keeping silent, and a growing tension, spreading in the air, was a significant test for both of them. Scarlett was aware of Will's eyes flicking toward her throughout the drive. Will was the first to speak.

"Scarlett, you have changed a lot. You are as beautiful as ever, but you are more confident and seemingly apathetic to other people," Will began. He climbed onto the seat near Scarlett and picked up the reins.

Scarlett smiled mockingly. "Yes, I have changed, like you and Suellen, Will. Everything changes over time," she answered icily.

"Is it the mask or your usual way of treating your noble friends?" Will asked, tossing the reins of his horse.

Scarlett felt her nerves tighten with the ominous tension. "I am indifferent almost to everything, Will," she agreed, her tone more alive. "Life is cruel."

"What happened with you, Scarlett?"

"I am tired, Will, and I don't want long discussions. Yes, I have changed dramatically. But inside I am still the same old Scarlett, perhaps, more mature in some aspects," she replied.

"I see. More mature indeed as I noticed in the past weeks."

"Thank you, Will," Scarlett's answer followed.

"Scarlett, what about Rhett Butler?"

Scarlett raised her brows. "What do you mean, Will?"

"You understand perfectly well, Scarlett, what I mean."

Ignoring his hard, attentive glance he gave to her, she blurted out: "Will, please don't ask and just drive. I don't want to talk about this man."

"I think we should talk about him because he will arrive at Tara soon. He will come because Mammy is sick."

"I know that he will come," she said confidently.

"And what about Rhett Butler?" Will asked insistently.

A shaft of anger and pain knifed though Scarlett's heart. "You ask too many questions."

He shrugged. "I have to ask them because Rhett Butler will come soon."

Scarlett felt her knees trembling. "It is just that I don't want to talk about him. Why are you asking me about him, Will?"

Will was going to be straightforward. "Are your children his?" Will asked boldly.

"Must you always be right?" Scarlett asked, half exasperated, half mocking.

Will smiled. "Well, I do try, Scarlett, I do try."

"Rhett is in the past. I was suffering too much to be my life ruined again because of Rhett. I have made lots of mistakes in my marriage, but I also had to go through too much because of Rhett and just because of his foolish actions. I have my own head and know what I do. I am responsible for my decisions. And I have my heart. If I see that it is worth doing and necessary, I will do necessary steps," Scarlett said, her voice steady, without any shadow of anger or frustration.

"Don't be worried, Scarlett. I understand everything pretty well. We will keep our mouths shut. We won't intrude in your deals," he assured.

"What about Suellen?"

"Don't be alarmed," Will reassured. "I will deal with Suellen by myself. I will order her to keep silent and not to tattle."

"Thank you very much, Will," Scarlett responded heartily, her eyes kind.

"Everybody gains what he or she deserves. Past sins are usually punished sooner or later. This happened with me and, likely, is going with Rhett. But when Rhett comes to Tara, please watch Suellen not to talk too much on improper topics. You know what I mean. Rhett will come. I know," Scarlett finished her long speech, staring at Will who smiled in understanding.

"You have grown up significantly. I am glad to see you at Tara," Will smiled and tossed the reigns once more time.

"Suellen will not hurt you, I swear," Will said politely.

"Will, I will open two bank accounts for you and Suellen. And deposit money on them for Tara and for your children. I will offer peace to Suellen when I come back to Tara. I am fed up with the war. No objections please to my actions regarding money. I know what I do."

"Thank you, Scarlett."

As the coach pulled by the team of spirited horses, it didn't take much time to get to Jonesboro. The carriage stopped near the railway station, and Scarlett stepped off it into the street. She gave to Will a warm farewell hug and a dazzling smile and entered the building. In half an hour she boarded the train for Atlanta. She was tired, but she had to go back to Atlanta to see children. She missed her daughters so much. In fact, she decided to spend with them several days in Atlanta, and if something happens with Mammy, Will shall send the telegram to her. She also was afraid of Rhett coming to Tara because enough time has passed since Will sent the telegram to Rhett. She was confident that Rhett would not ignore Mammy's situation, although he doesn't love and need Scarlett. She was also worried about the gang of criminals in Georgia. Her major task for now was to send children back to France.

Soon Scarlett was sitting on the train to Atlanta. She was tired, but she wanted to go back to Atlanta to see the children. She missed her daughters so much. In fact, she decided to spend with them several days in Atlanta, and if something happens with Mammy, Will shall send the telegram to her. She also was afraid of Rhett coming to Tara because enough time has passed since Will sent the telegram to him. She was confident that Rhett would not ignore Mammy's situation, although he doesn't love and need Scarlett. She was also worried about the gang of criminals in Georgia. Her major task for now was to send children back to France.

Having remembered that she promised Ashley to call on him soon, Scarlett decided to visit the mills at first. It was after-lunch time, and Ashley should have been on the mills. She hired the carriage at the station to get to the mills. How will Ashley meet her? What will they talk about? When she met him at Atlanta National Hotel, his hungry eyes were undressing her, his gaze wandering over her body. She hoped that Ashley wouldn't do the same now and hence she wouldn't have to explain to him that she no longer loved him. She also hoped that he wouldn't touch Rhett.

Near the mills from the carriage she saw that the size of the warehouse for cut-over lumber was much smaller than that one two years ago when Scarlett left Atlanta. She realized that Ashley's poor management has been gradually destroying the business. However, she didn't feel enthusiastic about helping him to run the mills. She was ready to give him the money to cover the funds shortfall or make a huge order for lumber for a project she could have designed to save Ashley from bankruptcy. Scarlett considered such options only in order to fulfill her promise for her dear Melanie. In fact, she felt a sort of contempt and disrespect to Ashley for his poor business skills and inability to stand on his own feet as a man, as well as for his so-called honor that restrained him from telling her many years ago about his love to Melanie. The latter was especially painful for her.

Scarlett stepped out of the carriage on the street and went directly to Ashley's office. She was curious how Ashley would estimate her appearance. Scarlett looked very nice, although tired from the journey. She was wearing the tight outdoor velvet dress of deep-grey-asparagus color, with a low V-shaped neckline and silky sleeves, trimmed with magnificent Florentine scarlet laces. Her small straw deep-grey bonnet stressed perfectly the grace of her neck and the proud manner of holding her head up.

Knocking at the door, she came in and greeted Ashley: "Hello Ashley. How are you doing, darling?"

"Scarlett, my darling… What a pleasant surprise to see you today and here! I am perfectly fine." Ashley took her hand, and they walked toward his desk.

"I am here to see you as I promised when we met at Atlanta National Hotel." Scarlett settled herself in the hair, while Ashley took his sit at the desk.

"You look so lovely today… Your dress is amazing," Ashley was looking at her with genuine appreciation and admiration. His watchful glance fell on the low neckline of her dress, and he fluttered his eyelashes down voluptuously. He noticed that Scarlett's gown fitted very smoothly to the body from the shoulders to the lower hips and shook his head. Ashley thought that it was excessively tight model of a dress from a proper lady as no one among Atlanta proper ladies could have worn such a gown. But it was Scarlett, and Ashley knew that she didn't care for the rules of the proper society. Besides, he knew that Europe was much more relaxed than the Old South of the States was.

"Thank you, Ashley. I was at Tara, with Mammy." Scarlett half closed her eyes.

"Did something happen, Scarlett?"

"Mammy is dying. She is dying. I wanted to be near her." Sorrow was revealed in her voice, she half closed her eyes.

"I am sorry, Scarlett. May I help you? Do you need me to come to Tara with you?" Ashley questioned, still staring at her intensively with his crystal-grey eyes.

"You don't need to come to Tara. Annabelle supports me very well. There is nothing we can do about. Mammy is very old and naturally weak. It is just painful because I feel that the last link to my childhood is leaving me." Scarlett closed her eyes in her sorrow and unshed tears befogged her eyes.

"My dear, I am so sorry. How have you been during the past two years? Where do you live now?"

"I am fine, and I got married to a good man from France, as I had told you before. I live in Paris."

"I was quite astonished when Henry Hamilton told me about your marriage to a noble French gentleman. At first, I was swept off my mind by your divorce and then the news about your marriage came. Everything happened so quickly."

"I am a widow again," she said, her tone uncertain of being happy or indifferent. "For the third time."

"I remember. This is a sad fact."

"At least I have children," Scarlett mused.

Ashley's eyes flew to her face. He looked at her interrogatively. "You have children, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Children in roughly three years?"

"Why are you so astonished, Ashley?"

Ashley sighed heavily. "Well," he began and stopped. "I am sorry, darling. I remembered the past."

"I changed in many aspects, including my attitude to having children. I have two girls. They are twins, so that having two children in three years is normal."

"Congratulations, Scarlett! This is great news. It is pity that you husband had died."

"Truly pity," she echoed and looked away. "I miss him."

"Your late husband?"

"Yes," she nodded her head in agreement. "His name was _Mathieu Paul Louis_. A French nobleman, Mathieu was an excellent man. He was an epitome of a true aristocrat in many if not all aspects. He was very intelligent, kind, well-mannered, high-minded, and courageous. Besides, he was quite handsome."

Ashley closed his eyes for an instance. "You are talking as though you had loved him."

"I respected him and adored him, but not loved. I still adore him," Scarlett clarified. "Ashley, please don't spread the rumors that my husband died. Promise me, Ashley."

"You know, I usually stay out of gossips. You have my word, my dear Scarlett."

"Thank you, Ashley. I trust you."

"And so do I."

""Very well, now that you have admitted we trust each other, tell me who how is Beau. I missed him very much." Scarlett rose and poured a glass of water, then went back to her chair.

"Beau has grown up and is no longer a small boy. Soon he can replace me as the man of the house. He asked me about you many times. You should visit us and meet him."

"I will call on you one of the weekends. Anyway, before my departure to Europe I will meet Beau. Remind him about me and kiss him for me," she answered, thinking that Ashley's replacement as the man of the house was not a bad idea.

"You disappeared from Atlanta, and people were talking where you were and why you run away from Atlanta and, possible, the country. You even didn't write to us."

"I didn't write because I was desperately looking for peace and tranquility. Atlanta and the whole South were too raw and new for me. I wanted to touch history and beauty of ancient times in their grace and glory," she responded. Scarlett approached Ashley's question with her former husband's words he used to underscore why he was leaving Atlanta and Scarlett behind in the cold autumn day of Melanie's death two years ago. She knew that she did the same, trying to run away from him to find a solution for her problems, as well as balance and tranquility. The difference was that Rhett's escape was initiated entirely by himself, whereas she was acting only as a decision-taker as Rhett pushed her to this involuntary escape when he left her after the night in Charleston.

"Scarlett, you have changed," Ashley drawled slightly.

"You know I have become interested in art and theater. My late husband Mathieu and his son were art worshippers and created a home art gallery. As a result, now I have something like my own art saloon consisting of pictures and sculptures, which they purchased on various art exhibitions, events, and charity evenings. I also participate in art events by myself."

"It sounds amazing! Congratulations with your new hobbies. I am sure you are enjoying them."

"Nevertheless, unlike you, I am not interested in literature and cannot quote Shakespeare or Walter Scott," Scarlett continued in clear anticipation that her companion would be pleased with her new hobbies. She was sure that he would appreciate and compliment her, which she liked intensely. Scarlett didn't lust for Ashley, but, as usual, she loved attention to her unique personality and adoration for her actions and activities. In this sense she still was the old Scarlett.

"Don't exaggerate my abilities in literature, little enchantress," Ashley said with a broad smile.

Scarlett slanted Ashley a sly look and winked at him, sending him in utter confusion. "I am not exaggerating. Do you know why I love art?"

Ashley's light brows rose. "Why, Scarlett? I am truly interested." He got to his feet and crossed arms on his chest.

"Because we all know that art is not truth, but rather imagination of a master. In substance, art is a lie that helps us realize the truth and accept it with all its awkwardness, grotesqueness, and beauty," Scarlett mocked. She started laughing heartedly, driving Ashley's mindset to the dangerous boundary between friendship chatting and love confession. Scarlett didn't think to do it intentionally, but rather was enjoying herself in the triumph of contemplating effective results from using her newly acquired witting skills.

"You are so beautiful, Scarlett," Ashley said in a hoarse voice and stared at Scarlett.

"Thank you, Ashley," Scarlett allowed a faint smile to animate her face.

"It is truth. For me you have always been and will be a charming sixteen-year old girl at that barbeque at Twelve Oaks. You didn't changed in appearance, but have undoubtedly grown up and matured," Ashley lowered his head to look into Scarlett's face, his cheeks flaming with color and his eyes sparkling.

"I am truly touched and honored, Ashley Wilkes," Scarlett answered coldly in her usual indifferent manner, shocking Ashley with this coldness and making his hands trembling.

He stared at her with his hungry grey eyes. "Scarlett, darling, what happened with your so musical voice and alive pretty face?"

"What do you mean?"

"I have noticed in the beginning that the tone of your voice and its intonations are very bold like those in the past, but cold and indifferent, dissolved by a sort of jeer in them. Your face is frozen in its mimic, and your smile touches only your lips, while you eyes are not smiling," Ashley finished his tirade.

"Everything is changing, and so am I. You are too shrewd, Ashley. Hope you won't share your thoughts with Uncle Henry and India," Scarlett let a chilling laugh.

"Shrewd indeed… We won't become the new subject of gossips, rest assured, Scarlett." Ashley stepped forward to Scarlett.

"Calling to my memory, in the past we often were the main subject of gossips in this town. And you did nothing to stop rumors, including ones that India started to spread on the day of your birthday. It was all lie and fabrication, you know. You could have defended me in the eyes of society… You had to talk to Rhett and explain him that nothing shameful happened at the mill. Do you remember this day?" she said and stepped back from Ashley.

"I understand your angry outburst, darling. I remember that day very well. Yes, I did nothing to defend you. Forgive me for being so passive, please, Scarlett," he apologized and drew a deep breath.

"You don't need to apologize. It is in the past," Scarlett answered unceremoniously.

"I have already heard gossips about the incident near the train station with you and your friend Annabelle if I am not mistaken."

"Yes, Annabelle."

"The Old Guard has been discussing widely in public this case for the last month. You were so brave, yet a little poisonous," Ashley's voice became deadly quite. "They recalled all the stories about you from the past. Mrs Merriweather and Mrs Elsing were the most active gossipers."

"God's nightgown! I don't care for them. They can do whatever they choose," Scarlett exclaimed with moderate passion, smiling sardonically. "Let them talk if they want. Who brings a tale takes two away."

"Mrs Elsing said that she also saw Rhett Butler near the railway station. Did he see you?" Ashley asked with frank curiosity.

"Yes, he did."

"I hope this vile man didn't offend you this time."

"Rhett met Annabelle and me, and he greeted us very politely. We had a very quick conversation. We were in a hurry to catch our train for Jonesboro. Rhett was with that that Watling creature, his mistress," Scarlett laughed madly from the bottom of her heart, and her eyes went completely blank as she tightened not to show her hurt.

"Oh, Scarlett, he is disgusting. I have always thought so low of him. He coarsened and brutalized you by his contact. He made you unhappy," he began.

Scarlett drew a deep breath. "Ashley, he didn't…" she interjected. "I did myself."

"And his reputation is so bad. Belle Watling, whores, and whorehouses…" Ashley interrupted her, and his eyes came back to her with fierceness. "Rhett Butler doesn't deserve such a sweet young lady as you are, Scarlett… He brutalized you… He played with your life…"

"Ashley, stop it. Rhett didn't harden me… Maybe, he played with my life, but he didn't brutalize me. I have never been so sweet and gentle as you think. You don't know me well. Appearance may be misleading," the tide of anger and disappointment rose in Scarlett's body, but her tone remained nonchalantly calm.

"You are behaving in his dreadfully insensitive and cold-blooded manner," Ashley continued and leaned slightly towards her. "I am sorry, but I have to say this to you, my dear."

"Ashley, please… How I behave in public doesn't matter for you," she answered reluctantly, becoming more and more irritated with Ashley's unpleasant outburst.

"No, darling, it matters because I care for you."

"Ashley, I also care for you and Beau." A frown marred Scarlett's smooth forehead as the thought of what he truly implied popped into her mind. "You are my childhood friend."

"Rhett Butler left you when you needed him the most. It is good that you are divorced and free from him. Now you can forget everything about him and pretend as if there had never been any mess with your marriage to him… he…" Ashley continued.

"Ashley, are you finished?" Scarlett interrupted him, "I don't want to hear this. Hush up, please. I am fed to the teeth."

"Sorry, darling. You still feel something to him, don't you? After all what he has done to you… He is not a gentleman and has never been," Ashley declared dryly.

"And I am no lady. You want the truth or sweet falsehood? And remember about the privacy of all my speeches."

"You are a great lady, Scarlett. It is important to me. My dear, I still love you. I have always loved you. It is strange to love two women. I loved Melanie in my own way because she was so much like me. In the meantime, I have always loved you for your courage and strength, headstrong and stubborn character, for your being so alive and for your beauty."

"If you believe that I am a true lady, then you don't know me well. Ashley, I appreciate your high opinion of me. Please, don't talk in such a manner about Rhett. We both can be blamed for the failure of our marriage. You also put your hand on it indirectly," Scarlett commented.

"I know, darling. But you are talking like… You know about my feelings to you, Scarlett…" he looked at her with longing in his grey eyes. "You are talking like…"

"Like what, Ashley? Pray continue," she interposed him as her temper was boiling under Ashley's annoying comments.

"Scarlett, we could be happy together. I have nothing left in the South. I can take Beau and move to Europe, if you want. We can be happy together. You, Beau, and I as a family," Ashley proposed in a quiet voice.

"Ashley, please stop this right now. Fine… I will tell you the truth. I still love Rhett Butler. I don't know why but I love him as much as I loved him two years ago when he left me in that cold autumn day, the day of Melanie's death. I love him wholeheartedly, and I would lose everything if I knew that he still loves me and we can be together again. I will never forget about our marriage and him. It is difficult… You don't know everything… and you don't need to know…" Scarlett cried out loudly and closed her emerald eyes to call for her strengths and will. She didn't want to think about Rhett and feel again.

"Darling, forget him. You should not love him after what he has done with your life. He hardened you… He never cared for you after Bonnie died… Sorry, Scarlett… for touching Bonnie…"

"Ashley, I cannot forget. I told you. Please, let's change the topic. Leave all what I said between you and me," she demanded.

"You don't need to ask. But we can marry…" Ashley insisted again.

Ashley was outrageously bold for usual himself. As though under a sudden impulse, he approached Scarlett, put his arm around her waist, pressed her to him, and kissed her on her lips in his ardor. It was rather unexpected for Scarlett and, probably, even for Ashley himself. When Ashley looked at up at her, the Old South and spring was back again for him, and he felt warmth and vividness in his body. He again heard rustle of ladies' dresses and careless murmurings at Twelve Oaks. He felt all the ease and indolence of the pre-war time instead of the bittersweet years he had to survive through after the defeat of Confederacy and he could never adjust to live. He was alive again in his memories, and Scarlett prompted him to remember these happy, trifling, and laidback days of his youth. Besides, she was beautiful, and he found her physically attractive against his own will even before Melanie died.

Scarlett didn't kiss him back. Instead, her body stiffened and she made an attempt to pull away, but he pressed her to him tighter. Ashley was hazily aware of her resistance, but he was already too aroused, his body too full of hungry need for Scarlett that he couldn't stop himself. He couldn't stop his mouth from searching hers or his hands from urgently exploring her slim body. In his mind, he was dreaming how she would have looked like if he had undressed her. However, Scarlett continued to resist, and finally he realized that he had to be able to control himself again.

Ashley felt her whole body go momentarily rigid in his embrace. Scarlett swallowed nervously, her entire body responding wildly to his actions. Without any hesitation, Scarlett finally pulled away quickly and sharply, as though in desperation. She broke the kiss and disentangled from him. She didn't want to be in his embrace. That hadn't been what he wanted at all, but he realized that she had just recoiled in fear from the thought of him kissing her. She wanted neither his embrace nor his kisses. She didn't need his love. She didn't want him as a man. She needed only his friendship.

Contrary to her expectations, Scarlett wasn't angry. She tried to make the anger boil as she was certain she must be n rage in this awkward situation when Ashley had overstepped all the boundaries. Momentarily, she made an attempt to recall all the reasons why she should have slapped him across his face and why she should have hurled his endearments back into his face. Moreover, she had to order him to apologize and then leave, insulted and humiliated, but her chin up. However, nothing changed as she didn't feel this simmering anger in her heart. She felt as though a mistake had happened and they hadn't understood each other. Naturally, she felt uncomfortable and wasn't pleased, but she wasn't in rage. This was because she was completely indifferent to Ashley as a man.

Angry words didn't come from Scarlett's mouth - she couldn't scream at him. She could only stare at him dumbly, wanting with painful fierceness to flee the room. Instead, she stepped backward from him and stood frozen.

Scarlett and Ashley stared at one another for a long time, neither moving, until Scarlett shook her head in negative reaction to Ashley's actions. She said in a low tone: "No, Mr Wilkes. You shouldn't do it."

"Are you sure, Scarlett?" Ashley blinked. Then he blushed and cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Outrageously bold for you," Scarlett provided calmly, in a half mocking tone. She sighed and added: "and ungentlemanly. Now your behavior is putting me in a very difficult position."

"I am sorry, Scarlett. Perhaps, a temporary aberration overcame me."

"Ashley, please never do it again. We cannot marry," she said firmly and severely, her face cold and its mimic frozen, her eyes blank. Ashley's kiss reminded Scarlett about their kiss at Tara in the orchard under the bare boughs after Ashley had returned from the war. However, at present she didn't feel her heart going out in a surge of mysterious love and passion, in fact unreal, as she realized far too late. Scarlett never loved him genuinely as she understood once again after this kiss.

"I do apologize," he repeated with effort. Ashley didn't see in her eyes former adoration and longing for him, and he sighed deeply. "I am so sorry."

"I don't love you and will never love again," Scarlett cut him off sharply. "How remiss of you not to understand this… I loved a dream and not you. I used you to stay sixteen forever, but I have grown up. I was a fool to realize this too late and lost Rhett. I am done with dreams. You are my friend and I trust you. That's enough for now and forever. I am sorry for my straightforwardness. Ashley, I love Rhett Butler."

Ashley inhaled. "Scarlett, I do apologize," he again repeated. He looked embarrassed.

Still suspicious, Scarlett stared at him, trying very hard to ignore the discomfort between them. "Ashley, you are a true Southern gentleman. I have always respected you for this quality."

"I appreciate your high estimate of me. Don't worry, Scarlett. I will stay a gentleman with you."

"Stay a true gentleman because it is so natural for you," she smiled softly and asked the question she wanted to ask a long time ago. "I just want to ask you one question. Do you remember when I got married to Frank in order to pay taxes for Tara? Why didn't you stop me that time when I went to Atlanta to find money in that deep-green velvet dress made from my mother's curtains?"

A prolonged silence stood in the room. Ashley and Scarlett's eyes locked, and he interrupted the silence.

"What could I do, Scarlett? How could I help you?" the words came from his mouth slowly and with a great effort. He spoke so slowly and quietly as if he was thinking hard about each word, as if he had to force himself to pronounce them, and as if it hurt too much to speak about it. "I know that it was my fault that you had to marry Frank, but I didn't have money. You know it, Scarlett."

"You even didn't try to stop me, although I am sure that you suspected what I was up to do," Scarlett pressured on. "Why didn't you ask me about, Ashley? Answer honestly, please."

A new wave of tense silence descended in the room illuminated by the rays of the now verging sun.

"Because I didn't know how to save you… Because I am and was helpless in this new life after the South was crushed… Because I knew that I couldn't stop you, willful and independent woman," he said ever more slowly, looked at Scarlett with a sad heart. "And because I was cowardly enough to live in shadows instead of real life… And I felt ashamed of it."

It happened. Ashley finally told her the whole truth. Now all the parts of the large puzzle formed the whole picture. Scarlett had additional proof that Ashley had never loved her with all her advantages and failures. He had loved her for what he had never had in himself. And he had desired her as a woman. That was all that he had felt for her. She knew it, but now she was completely convinced in her suggestions and thoughts. However, instead of the triumph she had expected to feel at this indirect revelation from him, Scarlett found herself strangely bereft, as if her protective armor had been stripped from her. Maybe, this final knowledge was like demolition of one of her childhood dreams, which partly meant losing one more bond with happy old days. Most likely, she had realized for the tenth time that she had been a fool for years when she had thought that Ashley had loved her, only her, and not Melanie. The truth was that he had loved Melly and had desired Scarlett. And love and desire are different feelings.

"Thank you for the truth," Scarlett said with sincere gratitude. "Don't be ashamed of your true personality, Ashley. You are a true gentleman, as I said, and it is not bad at all. I think that you really loved only Melanie because she was so much alike you. You once told me that Melly was the best and the gentlest of all your dreams, but in fact she was your only real dream, which transformed to reality in the after-war time."

"And I lost Melanie. Yes, I loved her," he paused, then went on, "and I loved and love you… because you are the embodiment of the qualities which I don't have and because you are beautiful…" he said in a slightly shaking, low but resonant voice.

"Ashley, I greatly appreciate your honesty," Scarlett smiled and then laughed joyfully. Although they were talking in different languages, now Scarlett understood Ashley. This time she didn't have a lack of imagination to put herself in his skin and bones, as it was earlier when she was a child longing for the dream of youth. A new level of understanding was reached between them.

"I am sorry again, Scarlett. How is Paris?" stunned and very frustrated Ashley said with a sinking heart and slightly remote, dreaming eyes as his mind locked back to careless days of the Old South and his Grand Tour to Europe.

"Paris is absolutely fine. I adore this city."

"When I was in Paris in the time of my Grand Tour, I was enamored of the beauty of this city."

"Paris is very beautiful. It hasn't changed much in the past decade or so. As I said, during the past years I resided there, but also spent much time in London and actively traveled across Europe." Scarlett was happy that Ashley changed the topic.

The rest of the conversation moved swiftly. The chat continued in a civil manner. Scarlett felt bothered when Ashley started to remember the old days before the war. They were talking a lot about Europe and Scarlett's trips and what she had seen. Ashley often remembered his Grand Tour in Europe in his early youth, and over time Scarlett became bored with those memories of him. She also asked about Beau, Henry Hamilton, Aunt Pitty, and India Wilkes, as well as about the lumber business in details.

Scarlett was furious. Ashley nearly destroyed all the business. He wasn't capable of managing business. He could work only as a hired manager whose work had to be controlled on a regular basis. Ashley didn't have business acumen and insight. Scarlett felt anger simmering in her heart not because Ashley had kissed her when she hadn't wanted it, but because he had destroyed what she had created by her bare hands. She decided to talk to Henry later as she needed to understand how the funds she had deposited before her departure from Atlanta had been used. Finally, when Scarlett felt enough of these dull discussions, she apologized for early retirement and said her goodbye to Ashley, heading to the hotel.

"There are only dreams in Ashley's mind! He is such a boring man. It seems he will never land on this sinful Earth and will always be longing for clouds instead of reality," Scarlett mused on her way to the hotel. "How could I ever think I loved him? It is impossible! What a fool and a child I was!"


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

**Scarlett and Annabelle: melancholy, nostalgia, and timelessness**

After visiting Ashley at the mills, Scarlett finally got to Atlanta National Hotel and found Annabelle with children in Annabelle's room number. Charles and Annabelle were having their early dinner, while nurses were feeding Blanche and Isabelle. Annabelle and Charles were overjoyed to see Scarlett. Annabelle was the first one to start conversation in French for Charles's sake.

"Scarlett, my dear, how are you doing? How is Mammy?" Annabelle asked her friend with genuine interest and care, which reflected clearly in her grey eyes and on her pretty smiling face.

"Welcome back to us, Aunty Scarlett! I missed you so much. We all missed you," Charles greeted Scarlett.

"You look very tired. I would say, even exhausted. Have you been sleeping and eating?" Annabelle added.

"Dear Annabelle and Charles, I also missed you terribly. Let me kiss both of you. And also kiss my precious little angels," Scarlett said, smiling at Annabelle and Charles and kissing them on the cheek, going to her precious daughters.

Scarlett took her daughters in her hands in turns and was kissing them for so long that Annabelle and Charles started laughing at her. Having put Camilla into Leontine's hands, Scarlett came to Charles and hugged him. The boy was overjoyed and responded to her warm embrace with even more tight one.

"I am so happy to see you all. Mammy is as usual, sleeping and not eating."

Annabelle stared at Scarlett. "Did you manage to feed her?"

"I have been hand-feeding her all the days since your left, Annabelle. She is dying. The question is how much time actually left. As for me, I am perfectly fine," Scarlett said.

"Aunty Scarlett, is there any hope that doctors can help her? Perhaps, we should send to France for our family doctor to examine Mammy?" Charles asked, trying to help Scarlett.

"No, my boy, it is not necessary. Mammy is very old and therefore sick. She is very sick and dying due to her old age. You know, my darling Charles, sometimes God wants to take people to Heaven."

"I am sorry, Aunty Scarlett," Charles pronounced sadly. "I am so sorry."

"You all are going to France next week the latest. I will try to know the schedule of the ships to London. And you will leave at the earliest convenience. The situation in Georgia is unstable. The gang of violent criminals is wandering around local farms, and sheriff and his people have failed to arrest them so far. They rob houses and local farms, and it is known that several people were killed during their attacks. I don't want to take on all of us additional risks. I cannot leave with you and have to stay with Mammy," Scarlett explained in details to everybody in pure French.

Later, when Charles went to read in his room number and Leontine took the girls from Scarlett to arrange them for a day nap, Scarlett and Annabelle were left alone in the end. Annabelle felt anxious about the situation, especially looking at her friend now without the usual mask on her face. Now, Scarlett seemed to be deeply agitated with something with her nails hitting the table, proving Annabelle's suspicions.

"The contrast is still up in the air. What is the real reason for your anxiety?" Annabelle asked in English.

"All that I said about the gang of criminals is true. Our neighbors were robbed yesterday, and several people were killed. I don't want to risk. Therefore, I ask you to accompany children back to France," Scarlett began and stared into the window. "Moreover, I was pulled with heartstrings when Mammy asked for Rhett. She wants Rhett and she knows the truth about me. I told her the whole story. I could not do otherwise. Will has already sent the telegram to Rhett, and my former husband can come to Tara any day," her green eyes turned to frantic as the idea of meeting Rhett soon popped into her head.

"Scarlett, I understand you. Don't worry. I will have children back to Paris."

Scarlett sent a grateful look to her friend. "Thank you, darling."

"I hope you will be able to survive without me here. What do you think about Rhett? Will he come?"

"Most likely, he will come. He loved Mammy a lot. Even hating me, he will come. I know."

"He doesn't hate you, in my humble opinion. He was happy to meet your that day in the street, Scarlett."

"My darling, I don't care what he thinks. It is even better that now I have a real reason to send all of you back to Paris. This is for my daughters' own good. You know what I mean, Annabelle."

"Apparently, you don't care. Especially when you put off blandness and indifference from your face," Annabelle said teasingly, looking leerily at Scarlett's blushing face.

"It is a fabulous comment of a perspicacious lady."

"Good."

"Undoubtedly, a sweet enemy is the person who tells the truth about you in such a charming manner," Scarlett said Annabelle and smiled happily, hugging Annabelle.

"All is as usual, darling. I am your sweet enemy and your best friend," Annabelle mocked.

"Exactly, my dearest French princess, you know me so well," Scarlett allowed a deep breath to tumble from her lips.

"We are so much alike and survived through numerous painful things. Scarlett, as I told you, my three previous marriages failed because I never loved my husbands. Loveless marriage is so difficult to live through, but my husbands are dead now. And when I found my love and loved from the bottom of my heart, he died. He died… because of me, partly."

"Are you talking about beloved François?"

"Yes, I am. I mean _François Maximilien Xavier de Montmorin, 9th Marquis de Saint-Hérem and __14th Baron de Villeneuve._"

"Stop blaming yourself, Annabelle. You didn't kill him."

"No, I didn't kill him, but I didn't tell him how much I loved him in due time. I was so much afraid of showing him that I loved him and only him. I considered that feeling to be a weakness and struggled with myself, but in fact just wasted my time and energy on nothing," Annabelle said with a note of sorrow in her voice. Her sadness also was evident now in her brilliant, dark eyes, full of pain and disbelief in what she was talking about and what had happened in her life. After a short pause she spoke again. "And I also pushed him away in a very cruel manner. I said that I hadn't loved him. I said that he had been a usual man for me. François even called me a whore after I had said that," she confessed.

"Why did you do this?"

"Scarlett… I… I…" Annabelle stumbled with words. The hurt of it suddenly became acuter and acuter, and that feeling numbed her. Tears streamed down her face, hot against the chilly evening outside. She swallowed hard and then swallowed again. "I was afraid to flee Paris and France with François. I was scared that I would disgrace the Robillards. I was… I was… a coward." Her voice was trembling and she was talking very slowly, as though she had been unsure in what she had been talking about.

Scarlett reached for her shoulder. "Annabelle, darling, please calm down. What is done is done."

Annabelle stared at her with her tear-filled eyes. "And now he is dead. He is dead," she murmured with an effort as she shut her eyes.

"Annabelle, if François sees you now, he is sad because you are crying," Scarlett said softly.

Annabelle laughed grievously. "I would never say that I believe either in devil or in God. Too much had happened in my life," she affirmed.

Annabelle's tone sent a prickle of warning across Scarlett's skin. She realized that she had never concentrate on God-related topic when they were talking about François because Annabelle always blamed herself for his death. Scarlett sighed. "I know that a loveless marriage results in an unbearable pain for both spouses. I never loved my two husbands."

Annabelle's face paled, her tears began to dry. "I know."

Scarlett smiled at her a trifle nervously. "You understand me much better when somebody else."

Annabelle looked at Scarlett fully, her grey eyes betraying the intensity of her feelings. "Yes," she muttered.

"Loveless marriage is similar to hell, especially marital duties, which I hated."

"Oh God." Annabelle's lashes hid the expression in her eyes. "I can confess that I hadn't thought of that for a long time. But surely in your case it should be so with all of your husbands, except for Rhett Butler, even when you didn't realize that you had loved him."

"Not exactly," Scarlett objected. "We didn't share a bed with Rhett for many years, so that it took me much time to realize what I had lost."

Annabelle held her gaze away from her friend. "In this aspect for me life was much simpler. I usually enjoyed my bedtime, excluding that with my first husband who was very old. It was an utter nightmare."

"I can imagine."

"You are wrong, Scarlett." There was a touch of light sarcasm in her tone.

"Why?" Scarlett's brows were drawn together.

"My old husband wanted something… something nontraditional in intimacy."

"Oh." Scarlett looked nonplussed.

"I was shocked. I was scared," Annabelle paused and then went on. "I was a young girl who understood almost nothing about intimate relations between a lady and a gentleman. My first husband ruined my life."

Scarlett was stunned to hear that. "What did he do, Annabelle?"

"Paul… he…" Annabelle stopped herself.

"What, darling?"

"Paul..." Annabelle rubbed her temples.

"What does that mean? What do you want to say?"

Annabelle sighed. "Nothing. It is unimportant and insignificant now."

"I only wish to understand…"

Annabelle raised her hand. She interrupted Scarlett. "Scarlett, please don't ask me." Her voice turned tense and strict. Pain was distinguishable in her voice. "If you value yourself or me, you will honor me in this. Leave it be and don't ask me."

Scarlett bit back her protest, hearing for the first time proof of some hidden past in Annabelle's life. It was a faint glimpse of the hard pain she had had to endure. Scarlett had always suspected that Annabelle hadn't told her all her life story. She was hiding her past. Why did Annabelle do that? To hell with those secrets, Scarlett mused. Let Annabelle keep her secrets if she wanted that.

Scarlett stared at Annabelle. "Just tell me why you don't want to tell me. Do you want to protect me?"

Annabelle touched Scarlett's shoulder. "Scarlett, it is too painful to remember some things. I also don't want to traumatize you." She paused and sighed. Then he voice became softer, nearly a half whisper. "Please don't ask," she supplicated.

Scarlett felt guilty. "I am sorry, darling."

Annabelle forced a smile. "It is fine, darling." She twisted her fingers on her right hand. "At first I hated marital duties, but when I began dating with an experienced young lover, I quickly learnt to enjoy bedtime with a man."

Scarlett twirled a bit of ribbon about her finger. That ribbon had just been removed by her from her hair. "Who was your first lover?"

"His name was Donatien. Like me, Donatien was one of the courtiers at _Napoleon III's_ court. I met him on the ball when he invited me to dance waltz with him."

"Annabelle, you never before told me in such details your life story."

"In either case, we have always had enough topics to discuss."

"Yes, darling," Scarlett smiled. "Pray continue."

"Continue what?"

"I mean the story about François and you." Scarlett patted Annabelle's hand.

"You know enough details about François and me, but, of course, I will continue." Annabelle smiled at Scarlett. "It is a sad story, darling. François…" the word was almost a moan, but Annabelle continued. "François, my only love, died because I was too late to tell him how much I loved and needed him," she paused to gather with her wandering thoughts. Her past was a knife thrust in her heart. "We wanted to escape from Paris because at that time I was still married to my third husband. Strictly speaking, he suggested running away together, but he was not sure that I would accept his proposal because I never told him how much I loved him and longed for him. Finally, as she had no confirmation of my undying love for him, François decided to be the part of that cruel goddamned _Franco-Prussian War of 1870-1871_. So François left for the war. In 1871 the war was over, and _the Second French Empire _wasdefeated."

"Pray continue, darling," Scarlett emboldened her friend.

"As a result, the imperial regime of _Napoleon III_ ended and the Republicans declared the establishment of _the Third Republic of France_, as you know. The fall of the Empire had tons of unfavorable consequences. It was very similar to the reformation which American South had to undergo through after the end of the civil war between the Confederacy with its slavery and the North territories with their industrial revolution. My late husband _Emmanuel Alexandre Augustin de Fleuriau, 14th Count de Morville,_ lost a great deal of money. Finally, only his noble surname and the title of the Count left for him. I didn't support him, being too occupied with myself in my own heartbreak and sorrow in the aftermath of François's death."

"You needed time for grief," Scarlett said.

Annabelle leaned her head back to contemplate the ceiling. "Later I had to hide myself in the convent."

"And?"

Annabelle signed heavily. "And I had to spend the whole year in _Abbaye de Saint-Denis_, hiding my pregnancy from the society and Emmanuel. It was François's child, as you know, darling."

"You told me about it earlier. What else happened with François?" Scarlett questioned.

"When I was in the convent, I was waiting for François to come back from the war, but he never came. Later, I learnt that he was killed in the war. I even don't know where he was buried. It was my entire fault because we could have run away together, but I was too much a coward to do it," Annabelle paused and rose to her feet.

Annabelle's train of thought went back to almost six years ago when her beloved sweetheart François died and her husband killed himself. Annabelle's breathing was erratic as she recalled that from 1868 up to 1871 she lost her second husband and her legitimate son from the second marriage because they were poisoned during the ball in the Emperor's palace, as well as she lost François and her third husband Emmanuel. Why was fate so cruel to her? Why did she lose so many people in her short life?

"Annabelle, you returned to the society from the convent after giving birth to your son René in 1871, didn't you?" Scarlett asked softly. "Did Emmanuel know about René?"

"Yes, I returned to Emmanuel and to the public life of the Countess, leaving René with one woman whom I trusted. I suppose Emmanuel had some suspicions and, probably, questions, but he never verbalized them," Annabelle said in a slightly stuttering voice.

"You were lucky that Emmanuel had never asked you where you had been several months."

Annabelle drew a deep breath. "Yes."

"You were absolutely indifferent to Emmanuel, Annabelle?"

"I didn't care for Emmanuel. When I returned from my forced solitude in the convent, I treated him even worse, colder and more indifferent. As I loved François and we had an affair the whole year of 1870, I hadn't shared the marital bed with Emmanuel. We had only one wedding night and two more nights, and later I banished Emmanuel from the marital bed because I met François in several days after I had got married to Emmanuel." She paused and closed her eyes. "It was a joke of cruel fate."

"Oh," Scarlett's lips parted in horror.

"Well, my love for François was love from the first sight. Since I met saw him _Jardin du Luxembourg (Luxembourg Gardens)_, I have never forgotten him," Annabelle's voice was low, nearly hoarse.

Scarlett's elegant black brows were lowered in a scowl, his eyes narrowed. "I cannot understand love from the first sigh because it took me many years to realize that I had loved Rhett."

Annabelle gave a short laugh. "Scarlett, all the cases are different. At least you spent so many years close to Rhett, even if you didn't realize that you had loved him. In contrast to you, I had less than a year with François and finally I pushed him away. And now he is dead."

"Don't think about this, darling," Scarlett persuaded. "It will only cause you more pain."

"You are right, Scarlett." Annabelle stared down at the carpet. At that moment she seemed so vulnerable. "At least we have one thing in common – our last husband was expelled from our bedroom," she added.

"I also kicked Rhett out of my bedroom in order not to have more children," Scarlett whispered regrettably.

"I expelled Emmanuel from my bedroom not because I was afraid of becoming pregnant by him, but rather because I loved François. I couldn't share a bed with another man, excluding François. By that time I had known one effective method to control pregnancy and I used it in case of the need. If you remember, I told you about the black cohosh," Annabelle's voice trailed off, she sighed again and again, and her shoulders slumped.

"I remember. It seems to me that among the high society all unfaithful wives use the leaves or powder of black cohosh," Scarlett admitted with a smile.

A wryly smile manifested on Annabelle's sad face. "You are a sharp-eyed lady, my dear. I will give you some powder of cohosh in case the great Rhett Butler of Charleston takes you under his spell while I am away in France."

"Thank you, Annabelle. It is a good idea, although I don't plan to have… erm… close relations with Rhett Butler."

"Who knows, Scarlett. Love is love," she parried.

Scarlett ignored her comment about Rhett and herself. She changed the topic. "What else happened with Emmanuel? Please, continue."

"Before I left Emmanuel to join _Abbaye de Saint-Denis _to hide my pregnancy, we had more or less good relations with him. I told him that I was sick, and I deceived him in many ways to continue his banishment from my bedroom. After my return from the convent I ignored him completely, and I even didn't say to him hello in our own house… I ignored him, and if he asked me about something, even about the weather, each time I told him to go to devil. I made him very unhappy. We were acting like wild strangers and uninterested passers-by on the same street, yet going in the opposite directions."

"And later Emmanuel committed a suicide," Scarlett supplemented.

"Yes, he did. Feeling my complete indifference compounded by the loss of great money, nearly all his fortune, Emmanuel put the gun into his mouth. It is my exclusive fault. I often have nightmares about Emmanuel and François," Annabelle confessed, her grey eyes sparkling from some unshed tears. Her self-control and self-confidence she possessed were already in tatters as she spoke about her life story.

"How often do you have these nightmares?"

Annabelle's face burned. "At first I had them each night. Now I am having them much rarer, but I still have them."

"Do you have any nightmares about your imprisonment in the Conciergerie?"

Annabelle shrugged. "Of course, I am having them. Those several moths in the Conciergerie were probably the worst in my life, although I felt much worse when I had realized that François wasn't coming back from the war."

"Darling, don't forget that it was _Count Emmanuel de Morville_ who was indirectly responsible for your arrest in February 1871."

"Emmanuel was guilty, but he didn't know that the leaders of _the Paris Commune_ would issue an order to arrest me as his wife. When the news of Emmanuel's damned escapade against the Commune, which he pronounced aloud in front of a large crowd near _Opéra Garnier,_ was delivered to the leaders of Commune, the order to arrest _Count and Countess de Morville_ was issued almost immediately."

"But Emmanuel fled Paris and spent several peaceful months in Provence, while you were in the Conciergerie with other Robillards."

"Yes," Annabelle breathed a word.

"I have heard the Conciergerie is the worst among other prisons."

"Oh, damn," Annabelle spat. "Oh, damn. Don't remind me."

Scarlett cast at her a compassionate glance. "I am sorry, darling."

"There were so many disoriented people, people sick with pain or hopelessness, crazy people, violent, disconnected from the outside world," Annabelle said. She shut her eyes. "I saw their eyes – they were widely open and clear and full of horror. They were like… like… animals."

"Oh, Annabelle," Scarlett drawled in the gentlest voice.

"I will blame myself for Emmanuel's death till my dying day, Scarlett."

"You mustn't," Scarlett insisted. "Although you did many wrong things, he did many wrong too, like running away from Paris and leaving you, his wife at that time, alone in the arms of the damned leaders of _the Paris Commune_ in the time of terror."

"Oh, Scarlett. I know Emmanuel acted as a coward when he fled Paris to avoid arrest and, probably, guillotine. But I acted as an impudent, cool-headed, tough-minded woman." A sad smile manifested Annabelle's face. She was talking in a strange, tight voice, high and mean but also full of tears. "I got married to Emmanuel only because of his money and because of boredom. Scarlett, I got married to him in August 1869, in a little over a year and a half after the deaths of both my second husband and my son. Imagine that I became his wife because I was bored with the life in the society! I didn't want to be alone, and I found a suitable candidate to be my husband. Emmanuel was in the virile age, handsome and physically attractive, well-connected across the society, and seemingly rich, but only at a first glance. Most importantly, Emmanuel loved me, while I never loved him. And I destroyed his life. I didn't sleep with him, excluding several nights in the beginning. He had to satisfy his carnal desires in the whorehouses, mostly at _Cora Pearl's_ brothel. I didn't give him a child. I mocked him and laughed at him. I treated him indifferently and cruelly. In addition, the dark irony was that Emmanuel had finally lost almost all his money. He had the huge debt and couldn't redeem it." Her voice trailed off as she tried to compose herself.

"Indeed, our cruel fate is joking at us sometimes," Scarlett said thoughtfully.

"And I was left with the great fortune of repaying Emmanuel's debts from my own money, which I inherited from my deceased former husbands and from my father Vincent after his death in the beginning of 1867. Of course, I also had tidy sums of money and property I inherited from my grandfather Gerard who left some of his property for his future grandchildren upon reaching by them the age of twenty five years, as it was written in his will. As I was the only grandchild, I inherited everything." Annabelle crossed her arms on her chest. She allowed a harrowing smile to wear across her face. She sighed and admitted in a shaking voice: "As you see, Scarlett, I killed Emmanuel and François."

"It wasn't your fault, Annabelle, but rather a tragic coincidence. You shouldn't blame yourself. And in the aftermath of this tragedy, you decided to mainly use in public your maiden surname de Robillard, didn't you?" Scarlett inquired.

"Yes, I did. It was as though I killed the reflection of my three marriages in my surname like I was killed inside by myself. I was dead and emotionally disconnected from everything in the outside world. You see, my darling Scarlett, we are so much alike. Loveless marriages, fear of recognizing our love, love of money and luxury. Recall also the death of my son from my second marriage and that I got married for the sake of money and social status," Annabelle was pouring her heart to her friend. She was crying quietly with her hands touching her forehead and wiping tears from the cheeks.

"Why did you marry for money? You are from the Robillard family, whose wellbeing has never been doubtful in both France and the States," Scarlett questioned curiously.

"My father Vincent and my mother Gwendolyn were so greedy for dresses and jewelry for their precious girl Annabelle. They wanted me to live like a nun in our lonely castle in _Caen _in _Calvados_, but I hated it and was always fighting with them," Annabelle said.

"Please remind me, _Caen_ is in _Normandie_, isn't it? Do I remember correct that the Robillard noble house originated in Normandie?" Scarlett questioned.

"Yes, you are right in both cases, darling," Annabelle forced a vague smiled. "I was born in _Caen, _a city in _Calvados_, which is a department of _Normandie. Calvados_ as an area was created after _the_ _First French Revolution_ of 1789, but in fact this name was already in common usage."

"I remembered that you moved to Paris at sixteen years old once you managed to escape from the convent where you parents forced you to stay for three years," Scarlett said.

"Exactly, my darling. I wanted to escape my parents and _Normandie_," Annabelle said sorrowfully. "Besides, my parents didn't have a successful marriage because my parents began to hate each other after the death of my sister and brother from smallpox. I was the only surviving child. My parents blamed each other for this tragedy, while my mother even insisted on joining the convent."

"I daresay that it is a very strange desire to wish your only surviving child to join the convent." Scarlett shook her head in confusion and disbelief.

"I agree. But what could I do?" Annabelle shrugged.

"You could only escape."

"And I fled _Normandie_ in 1861. As a sixteen-year-old girl, I moved to Paris because I got married to an old rich man – _Paul Josselin Lionel de Belsunce, 8th Marquis de __Castelmoron_ – my first husband. I did this only in order to run away from my parents. Paul turned sixty years old when he married me," Annabelle's voice resonated. "At sixteen I became a lady-in-waiting at _Napoleon III's_ court, as you know."

"You got married to such an old man…" Scarlett said.

Annabelle dropped her head and looked at her fingers. "Imagine a couple - a sixteen-year-old girl and a sixty-year-old man!"

"It is awful, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. _Marquis Paul de __Castelmoron_ was a strange man because he told me that he had married me partly because I was half French and half Scottish." A flash of humor briefly lit Annabelle's grey eyes. "Paul died in roughly two years after our marriage, and I was on the moon after his death. And in a year and a half after that old man's death you got married to _Count Etienne de Brienne._"

"How very good of you to got married to a much younger man," Scarlett mocked.

"Undoubtedly, I was happy to happy a younger husband," Annabelle gave a sly wink to Scarlett.

"I understand."

"My new marriage was like paradise as compared to hell with _Marquis Paul de __Castelmoron_. So in 1865 I got married to _Etienne_ _Adrien Victurnien de Lomenie, 11th Count de Brienne_. By the way, Etienne was Mathieu's friend."

"Really?"

"Yes. Etienne was Mathieu's very close friend," Annabelle remarked. _"_In 1866 my son _Lancelot Henri Alexandre de Lomenie_ was born_,_" she paused. With a sad, whimsical smile, she finished: "My son was born to die."

Scarlett remembered how her daughter's life had ended. Something painful unfolded in the pit of her stomach, then spread, slowly building and gathering force, until it began to race in a trembling fury at fate along her every nerve.

Scarlett inhaled deeply. "Like my Bonnie…" she speculated coolly.

"This is cruel life, Scarlett. When I became Emmanuel's wife and he killed himself, partly because of me."

"Stop saying so!" Scarlett suggested with a tinge of determination. "Most importantly, we ought to forget about these tragedies."

"I agree. This is the whole story about my and your lives," Annabelle elucidated and sighed heavily. Some of the ache in her heart eased as she remembered her childhood. "My childhood was spent in our lonely castle in _Caen _among apple orchards and brewers, darling."

"It sounds very romantic, my dear. My childhood was at Tara. And I always remember this time with enravishment coming on my heart. The wooded hills above the river with their dogwood blossoms, white-starred young magnolia trees, and the red earth – this is my Tara. I liked to be in the shadow of the trees… with my Pa…" Scarlett said dreamily.

"Darling, the same was for me. I was always a disobedient child playing in the shadow of trees and climbing them," Annabelle laughed.

"I also used the climb the trees, darling," Scarlett returned the laugh.

"You see, we are alike," Annabelle cocked an eye to Scarlett. "Darling, do you know what makes _Calvados_ a well-known area in France?"

"No, I don't," Scarlett replied briefly.

"Shame on you!" Annabelle cried out, her eyes laughing. "Do you remember an apple brandy we drank at Jean-Baptiste's evening reception in Toulouse? You liked it very much."

"Yes, I remembered! Indeed, shame on me," Scarlett broke into sentimental laugh.

"Good that you remember," Annabelle smirked and laughed sardonically.

"You conceited thing!" Scarlett parried and smiled playfully. "I recall that Jean-Baptiste told us that there are more than one hundred specific varieties of apples, which are sweet, tart, or bitter. Cider is produced from them."

"Exactly, Scarlett. Next time we are in Toulouse we will drink this apple cider again."

"For sure," Scarlett agreed.

"So, Scarlett, I ended up in three loveless marriages. Damn them," Annabelle added with bitterness, her stomach swelling from inner pain. "Damn the years I wasted for my three husbands and hunting for their money."

"Yes, we are so much alike. We went through so many similar goddamned tragedies. I am very sorry for the death of your son… You know about my Bonnie… I still cannot breathe when I remember the day of her death. Now, hush up. We can do nothing about now," Scarlett tried to console Annabelle.

Pain slashed across Annabelle's features as her gaze swept over the room and fixed ahead in emptiness, then her jaw hardened. "The difference between us, Scarlett, is that my François is dead and Rhett is alive. Recall also that I told you that my numerous love affairs in the period of my loveless marriages and after François's death didn't help me become happy. That's why you shouldn't take this path. It will lead you to more pain and unbearable feeling of hollow and affliction in your heart. That's why I am alone now. It is easier, much easier, my dear," Annabelle said, her voice hoarse.

"I am not taking this path. I was always faithful to my husbands, I mean in the sense of marital intimacy. Besides, I have got accustomed to the idea that I would be alone for the rest of my life," Scarlett answered and twisted her hands on her lap.

"Try to talk to Rhett. You are a widow now, and you have his children. At least, try to see what happens and how he will behave when he comes to Tara if he indeed does. Don't make my mistakes. Who knows when God will call for us to leave for Heaven."

"I don't love him and I don't need him! I hate him! Let's have a drink downstairs. We are in a desperate need for it," Scarlett spelled out loudly, and with this, two ladies hurried downstairs to the hotel restaurant.

"You hate and despise him, don't you? Hating and despising simultaneously is a very powerful combination of emotions." Annabelle smiled at her friend. The painful knot in her stomach began to dissolve.

"And difficult to live with," Scarlett blurted and gave Annabelle a look of laughing exasperation.

"It is so, especially if you have to persuade yourself to hate and despise."

"No!" Scarlett implored. She tossed her head, suffocated by what she regarded as Annabelle's deliberate, unprecedented effort to mock and disarm her. Fire ignited in her emerald eyes, but she managed to keep her voice at moderate level.

"Hating and despising Rhett Butler is a cliché phrase, darling. You don't need to repeat," Annabelle smirked satirically and breathed in with full lungs. She asked herself when Scarlett would understand that she must have talked to Rhett eventually. She laughed out bitterly.

Scarlett shrugged. "Not a cliché phrase."

"So you can continue this self-deceit and I will wait and watch."

In the next days, Scarlett tried to spend with children as much time as she could. She was playing with Charles and her daughters during the day and reading them bedtime stories in the evening. They were not going to the park with children because Scarlett wanted to avoid the Old Guard or somebody else seeing her with children. She went out only with Annabelle or alone and was staying with children in their room. Scarlett and Annabelle continued packing things for the upcoming trip to Europe. Annabelle even bought in a small shop some souvenirs for her friends and mother. Scarlett purchased the first-class tickets for all of them for the ship from Charleston to London, schedule for departing in five days after her arrival to Atlanta from Tara. Everything was arranged for their leaving. On the last evening, Annabelle and Scarlett were sitting in the hotel restaurant and talking.

"Please keep me updated on what is going on here. I will be worried about you. I will let you know when we will be on the ship in Charleston and then we arrive in London in around two weeks. Don't worry because Leontine and I will be carefully looking after your children."

"Thank you, darling. I trust you," Scarlett stated wholeheartedly. "I don't know how long I have to stay here."

"Please be careful with the criminals," Annabelle warned protectively. "Anything else is on our mind, darling?"

"Well, I was thinking that if Rhett comes to Mammy, Suellen can try to take a revenge on me. She hates me."

"Suellen is not a pleasant lady. She envies you. That's it," Annabelle claimed with confidence.

"I took Frank from her to pay taxes for Tara, I told you. She hates me for this, Annabelle."

"It is only partially true. She envies you for richness, beautiful and eye-catching appearance, your father's unconditional love and favoritism for you, and only then goes the case with Frank."

"I know all this chain of reasons for which she hates me. But I also know her weakness – money."

"What will you do?" Annabelle asked and stared at Scarlett with an impatient glare.

"I will make Suellen shut her mouth simply. I will give her money she wishes. It will be a gift for Suellen and for Will for Tara for the house reconstruction and for future needs."

"A wise decision, I would say."

Scarlett swallowed and looked away. "Rather wise."

"I think you will succeed on this occasion," Annabelle commented.

"Yesterday, I opened for Will and Suellen two accounts in the Atlanta National Bank. I deposited fifty thousand dollars on Will's account and twenty thousand dollars for Suellen's, transferring funds from my account in the bank of Savannah. Success makes success, like money makes money. It is quite evident and doesn't require complicated vindication," Scarlett said to Annabelle, pouring herself and her friend another glass of wine.

"Suellen will be more than happy about such a generous gift. You will win. She believes that money is better than poverty. She forgets that it is valid only for pure financial reasons," Annabelle said and sipped her wine from the glass.

"You and I also believed in the same not a long time ago. And we failed. It is a bittersweet way of life," Scarlett claimed confidently.

"Let Suellen follow her own path and learn truths, Scarlett. Don't worry about children. I will take care of them. I will be staying at your house in Paris till your return."

"It was the evening of some melancholy," Scarlett said, a look of sadness entered her green eyes.

"Each time joy comes after melancholy," Annabelle added. "Today we were filled with the feeling of tranquility, of sadness - and yet not sadness, more a bittersweet nostalgia."

"We must come back to reality, darling," Scarlett said. She felt her heart twist in her breast, causing it to race at a frantic pace. "Let's get away from an air of timelessness."

"Melancholy, nostalgia, and timelessness…" Annabelle admitted thoughtfully.

"Darling, wake up from your slumber!" Scarlett commanded, and sweet irony was in her voice. She smiled. As she sighed and found her composure, now her heart and emotions were safely armored against the past.

Next morning Scarlett kissed her daughters Blanche and Isabelle and hugged Charles and Annabelle. The farewell scene was accompanied by warm embraces and wishes of pleasant and safe journey to Europe. The farewell meeting occurred upstairs in the room number, entirely with the purpose of safety and non-publicity. When the children, Annabelle, and the nurses had finally left the hotel, Scarlett remained alone in her room number. She quickly packed her things, went downstairs, checked out, and headed to the railway station, taking the earliest train for Jonesboro. Soon she was on her way back to Tara and to Mammy.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

**Rhett as a proper gentleman of Charleston**

Rhett went back to Charleston from Atlanta to continue his search for peace and tranquility. Almost two weeks have passed since his departure from Atlanta, this disastrous town. He again got bothered by the routine life of southern gentlemen he was trying to lead in his mother's house. He had to attend endless tea parties with his mother Eleanor and his sister Rosemary, as well as Silvia and other representatives of proper Charleston society. He hated their talks about weather, children, goings to the central market and what they bought for supper there, as well as about new balls in the season. Everything was so boring for him during these events. The peace in Charleston was not helping him to be happy. He was smiling, but felt nothing. In the day, he pretended to like his lifestyle and enjoy his time in the proper social circles, while in the night he went to gamble to the local saloon or whorehouse. He spent nights with whores to be satisfied physically, but emotionally he was still devastated and felt nothing, apart from dreadful hollow in the heart. Even the inner tension in his body was accumulating fast as he didn't have emotional release after the nights with whores. At times he wondered whether he really wanted the life of the proper Charleston gentleman, which he tried to avoid for an overwhelming majority of his adulthood.

But the greatest misfortune for Rhett was that people were talking actively and with interest about his upcoming wedding with young widow _Silvia Ferdinanda Albertson Dawson_. Those constant talks irritated and enraged Rhett, driving him to the edges of his own sanity. He tried to be engaged in these discussions and politely answered all the questions, usually in the manner of giving blank and empty in their sense answers and delegating to Silvia the right to give detailed explanations. But often, during such discussions, Rhett was thinking about Scarlett against his own will. His mind went back to his recent meeting with Scarlett in Atlanta, and he thought that she was beautiful and again asked himself the question what she was doing there.

In contrast to Rhett, Silvia was extremely excited about the wedding and at first didn't notice his usual indifferent, aloof attitude to the engagement and wedding plans. If she asked him whether he had already thought about the wedding ceremony or the honeymoon, he answered typically that everything is up to her own mind and he would accept her final decision for granted. Over time, Silvia learnt that Rhett didn't want to be involved and participate in something. That indifference was killing Silvia, and she was angry and offended, but never showed this to Rhett.

Rhett never told Silvia that he loved her, even when he proposed to marry her. She was not a fool and understood that Rhett didn't love her, but accepted it as the absolute truth. In fact, Silvia acknowledged to herself that she was in sort of love or obsession with him: she found him handsome, rich, famous in the whole American South, and having all necessary features for being a proper husband, as she thought. Silvia knew about his ill reputation for his past sins and adventures, but she didn't care a lot about it. She loved being in the society with him because they were affectionate couple and other ladies envied her clearly. Her obsession with Rhett was growing gradually during the months after their engagement when they started to spend together a lot of time. What she didn't know were Rhett's unwillingness to quit completely his drunken parties, mad gambling, and visits to whorehouses in striving to satisfy physical starvation by bedding girls and spending crazy nights with them. A poor girl could not even suppose that Rhett cannot be unfaithful to her.

Nevertheless, Silvia understood that Rhett was keeping his distance and never told her about his past. He avoided any discussions about his previous life, and if she asked any questions, he answered politely, but briefly and blankly. She knew about Rhett's former wife from Atlanta and was interested in whether Rhett loved her and why he divorced her. Unfortunately for her, she didn't know her name and was embarrassed to ask about it somebody. She was not a good gossiper and hence could not receive the answers to her questions by recalling in her mind the well-known and widely-discussed events of somebody's personal life in the past.

Silvia's curiosity was finally satisfied during one of the tea parties and the following diner at Bromwells' house. During the dinner, Rhett was attacked by wedding-related questions by Mrs Bromwell, an old lady from the Bromwells with whom Rhett's father were old friends.

"Mr Butler, when is your wedding with Silvia? Have you already decided on the date and the place?"

"No, we haven't done it yet, Mrs Bromwell," Rhett answered indifferently and looked away, becoming more bored with the idle discussions of the empty-headed proper society.

"Silvia told me that she plans to have two ceremonies, one in the Church and one at home, which she called flower ceremony when spouses exchange flowers to strengthen their feelings. I adore this idea," Mrs Bromwell looked at Silvia and added, "Mr Butler, you have caught a brilliant wife! You are such a lucky man! You and Silvia are a perfect couple."

"Thank you, Mrs Bromwell. Rhett, we are a great couple, aren't we?" Silvia exclaimed.

Rhett swore silently that he would miss the next tea party. He was bored. It was unbearable. "Sorry, what?" Rhett was absorbed in his thoughts and missed a part of the conversation. Silvia glanced at Rhett angrily, but said nothing. Mrs Bromwell continued chatting.

"A flower ceremony will be brilliant! Silvia, darling, your imagination for the upcoming wedding is beyond any grandeur." Mrs Bromwell was fluttering her short eyelashes like a hand fan. "Mr Butler, don't you think so?"

"Indeed, brilliant," Rhett returned and frowned in disgust to the discussion. Again, he missed what they were talking about. He wanted to be out of this room.

"It is so lovely!" Eulalie Robillard said.

"Lovely!" Mrs Wondermurt echoed.

"We may also organize a special tea party right before the wedding ceremony, say, a day earlier. We will invite everybody from our community. What do you think?" Silvia interfered in the conversation.

"Oh, it is a wonderful idea! I support it," Mrs Bromwell exclaimed.

"I also support it. I will help the organization of the wedding and the tea party," Eulalie said.

"And so do I," Pauline Robillard added. "Eleanor, we will do whatever you ask."

"I am also with you," Rosemary and Eleanor said in unison with each other, which made them smile when they eyes locked for a moment.

"Thanks to everybody," Eleanor Butler said.

"Very good, Silvia, I will help you. On this event, we can also collect some donations for our charity fund on behalf of former soldiers, widows, and orphans of the Confederacy," young Miss Hampton said.

"Rhett, will we donate some money on the upcoming charity event for the former soldiers and their orphans?" Rosemary asked Rhett who was looking at her, but in fact through her as he was deeply lost in his mental wandering.

"Rhett, darling, it is such a benevolent idea! God bless these poor people!" Silvia continued the charity-related spitting, "How much will we donate, darling Rhett?"

"What?" Rhett inquired as he missed Silvia's question. "What did you say?"

Silvia threw him a speculative glance, the lingering distrust and disappointment obvious in the hazel eyes. "Rhett, you are very absent-minded today. Are you fine, darling?" Silvia asked. She saw that he avoided her gaze. And when he looked at her, he seemed to look right through her skin, but not at her.

"I am fine, thank you." Rhett raised his eyebrows and sighed deeply. Everything was the same, day after day, conversation after conversation. He forced himself not to smile satirically and not to laugh in his usual good-humored, but acid-tongued manner.

Silvia's hazel eyes met Rhett's black orbs. "I asked you about how much we had planned to donate for former soldiers, widows, and orphans of the Confederacy."

Rhett inhaled. "We can donate as much as you want, my dear Silvia," he said and intentionally drawled his last words. He was pretty irritated with the idle talk.

Silvia smiled sweetly. "Thank you, darling."

"My family will also donate money on this event!" Miss Barbara Hampton joined the chat.

"And we will donate as we always do! Poor orphans… God save them," Mrs Bromwell clapped her hands.

"My mother and I will undoubtedly attend this event. We can also organize a memorial evening immediately after the event," Miss Margaret Elsbrow added.

"I support this idea! I will participate as much as I could and to the extent you let me, Margaret," Silvia answered confidently.

Margaret Elsbrow's lips smiled gleefully. "Thank you, Silvia! You are so sweet."

"Let us know how we can help with the organization of a charity event and a memorial evening," Eleanor Butler said, "And we will assist as much as you demand us."

"Memorial evening!" Eulalie Robillard exclaimed. "What an eminent idea!"

"How good it is to have so many people with a heart of pure gold, who are ready to help everybody," Mr Benson stated excitedly.

"I am fascinated with our self-sacrifice qualities, my dear friends," Pauline Robillard's low voice resonated. "We help as many people as possible."

"This is a wonderful idea. In addition, on this charity event we will try a new sort of English tea, which my son will supply by this time from London," Mr Wondermurt said. "The tea is truly amazing, I promise you, you won't regret. This tea is amazing!"

"This charity event will aggregate a lot of money for the former soldiers of the South and their orphans," Mrs Bromwell inferred with satisfaction.

"Tea party and memorial evening will be splendid," Mrs Wondermurt said, her eyes aglow with laughter.

"Again a tea party and a charity event…" Rhett asked unexpectedly even for himself, with poorly hidden irritation and boredom in his voice, making the ladies and men in the room to look at him. They appeared to be displeased with Rhett's comment, but Silvia tried to save the situation and changed the subject.

"Rhett, darling, what do you think about having the wedding on 1st of February of 1876? Or you want to choose earlier date? It is the early beginning of November now, and I feel that three months are more than enough to prepare for the ceremony," Silvia supported the conversation eagerly.

Rhett stared ahead in the emptiness. He didn't want to look at Silvia. "Silvia, I think that it should happen a little later, at least not in February. We have a lot of things to do before... erm... the wedding. Also, I can go to Europe on business for three months at least in the coming year. I don't know for sure now," Rhett told Silvia in hope to isolate himself from the life of a proper Charleston gentleman for at least several months more. He could travel to Europe, in London and his favorite Paris. It was very likely that Scarlett lived in Paris if she was married to a French aristocrat, as Rhett mused silently.

"Rhett, darling, you will be gone for so long, won't you? How will I live without you? Will you write letters to me? How often? Or you, perhaps, can reschedule your trip, cannot you?" Silvia asked.

"I have to check my shipments from Europe," Rhett protested.

"But Rhett! They can wait," Silvia nearly moaned and grimaced.

It had no affect on Rhett. He was becoming more and more irritated. "I must also meet with my colleagues from the banks and several shipment companies in England. It is business trip."

"But you can still do it later, after our wedding," Silvia parried.

"No, I cannot." Rhett felt anger boiling in his veins. Didn't she understand that he had business to do in Europe? Didn't she understand that he needed time for himself? In contrast to Silvia, Scarlett didn't complain when he was leaving on business. In contrast to Silvia, Scarlett was a business woman.

Silvia's face was flushing. She was beyond tears. "But Rhett…"

Furious at her, Rhett harshly interrupted Silvia's pleas. His voice was cold, even rude. "I am the active shareholder of these companies," he snapped as though casually. "Please understand that I must participate in a multitude of corporate events. It is business. I am earning money. Why are you protesting? You know, it is usual for me, Scarlett…" Rhett said and sharply cut himself off immediately when he pronounced his former wife's name. He was thinking about Scarlett again against his will and desire at the moment when Silvia continued to pressure him regarding his trip.

"I must have some refreshment and my cigar. I am sorry for leaving. Now I will find my way out," Rhett said, his voice abrupt. He stood from the chair, kissed Silvia's hand, turned away from the dinner table, heading to the exit from the room. He wanted to escape as soon as possible not because of embarrassment, but rather due to being fed up with empty uninteresting discussions. He was laughing at himself at that moment.

Everybody in the room was shocked with Rhett's sudden departure and even more with his words. Ladies were looking at Silvia with deep regret, sympathy, and pained understanding, while Miss Eleanor was truly suppressed with her eldest son's behavior. Whisperings and lamentations filled the air in the room because Rhett's words nearly shocked Charleston society. Being engaged to one lady and thinking about the other, especially the former wife, was something unbelievable for the conservative society, mostly antebellum in their ideas and believes. Rhett's unceremonious departure only aggravated the situation.

Silvia looked beaten and devastated, but she tried to mask it, although not very successfully. She was a roiling mass of shame, bewilderment, anger, and embarrassment. She wanted to meet Scarlett desperately and needed to get as much information about her as possible. Now she realized that Rhett still loved Scarlett, which explained his own complete indifference to the wedding and his clear desire not to discuss wedding-related issues. She also realized that Rhett most likely made himself divorce with his wife when he still loved her. Anyway, Silvia felt humiliated and hated this unknown Scarlett right from the beginning when she only suspected that Rhett was infatuated with another woman. However, Silvia didn't care about Rhett's feelings and was determined to become his wife in accordance with her initial plan. Somehow, some way, she actually will get married to him.

"I hate you Scarlett, but Rhett will be mine. He will marry me. You have your own husband," Silvia said to herself in her thoughts. "He is mine. But I would love to meet you to see with whom I compete."

Miss Barbara Hampton's lips parted. "Oh!" she groaned.

"Silvia, I am so sorry." Mrs Bromwell's apologetic eyes scanned Silvia's face.

"Oh!" Eulalie and Pauline groaned.

"Oh! Rhett Butler is a strange man," Mr Wondermurt shook his head.

"I agree. He is rather unusual," Mrs Wondermurt admitted.

"I am sorry for my brother," Rosemary prattled, her high cheekbones turned crimson as she drowning in resentful embarrassment.

"I am so sorry for Rhett's sudden leaving and for his words," Silvia announced in despair, her voice slightly shaking. Her lids fluttered closed in embarrassment as she was sitting and groping for her handkerchief.

"I do apologize for my son. He is working too much and is obviously tired," Eleanor explained to everybody, trying to save Rhett's reputation and soften the public mood. "He needs to take a break."

"For the love of heaven, everything is fine. Don't worry," Mrs Bromwell declared in a high voice, trying to ease the situation.

"Thank you, Mrs Bromwell," Eleanor made a sign of relief.

Silvia turned to Miss Eleanor and looked at Rhett's mother questionably. "Who is Scarlett?"

"Scarlett O'Hara Butler is Rhett's former wife. They divorced around two years ago after their daughter Bonnie, my precious grandchild, was killed in the riding accident. Rhett was not himself after her death, and Scarlett was also suffering very much. The grief took them apart from each other, and they could not reconcile in the aftermath of the tragedy and in the end divorced," Eleanor elucidated politely to Silvia.

"Is she beautiful?" Miss Margaret Elsbrow asked loudly.

"Yes, she is. Scarlett O'Hara is a very beautiful woman. I remember her from the party at the Butlers house in Atlanta, which I attended four years ago. And their daughter Bonnie was a little angel. I saw Mr Butler with daughter when he was staying with her in Charleston at Miss Eleanor's house. It was around three years ago, if I am not mistaken," Mr Wondermurt added.

"What is Scarlett like as a personality?" Silvia questioned, absorbed in the discussion. She was truly interested in what kind of woman her invisible competitor was like. She was afraid of Scarlett's potential influence on Rhett's thoughts and behavior.

Eleanor was puzzled. She didn't know how to answer to these questions. So she decided to be honest. "Scarlett is a unique lady, very different from others. It is difficult to describe," she answered.

"Scarlett is our niece. Her mother Ellen was our sister. It is true that she is very special," Pauline agreed.

"Rumors say that Scarlett Butler went to Europe and got married to a French noble wealthy man," young Miss Hampton tried to participate in such an entertaining discussion. She giggled while thinking how she would discuss the case with her female friends tomorrow. She was a well-known scandalmonger in Charleston.

"It is true. Scarlett got married to _Marquis Mathieu de Bréval_ several years ago," Pauline Robillard confirmed. "I haven't seen my niece Scarlett for a long time, since the funeral of our father Pierre in the autumn of 1873."

"It seems to me that she has been in the States since her departure and marriage," Eulalie Robillard admitted. "In accordance with her letters, she resides in Paris, but spends much time either in London or in South of France. She travels much."

"My husband knows Monsieur Mathieu de Bréval because Monsieur Mathieu owns a large stake in the Charleston Antiques Shop. My husband met Monsieur Mathieu de Bréval on business several times. He is a nice man, a very noble gentlemen and a true gentleman," Mrs Bromwell boasted to other ladies, underscoring how much she knew about Scarlett.

"I am also the shareholder of the Charleston Antiques Shop. Recently Madame de Bréval contacted me and announced her decision to sell her stake. She asked me to dispose of it as quickly as possible because she doesn't plan to live in the States and because her husband's son in his first marriage is unlikely to ever live in the States," Mr Benson added as he knew all the news associated with the business in the Charleston Antiques Shop.

"How interesting," Mrs Wondermurt said.

"Strangely, Monsieur de Bréval didn't contact me by himself. I didn't think that he allowed his wife to be involved in business activities," Mr Benson said. "It is so improper for a lady."

"As I know, Scarlett has always been an example of women's independence," Eleanor Butler replied.

"My niece has an independent temperament. She rarely consults with other people and always copes with the problems on her own," Eulalie said proudly. "She has been helping both Eulalie and me very much since the war."

Miss Barbara Hampton looked at Eulalie Robillard. "It is true that Pierre Robillard made Scarlett Butler his only legal heiress? I was stunned when I had heard about it."

Pauline nodded. "Yes, it is true."

"Now Scarlett is the master of all his property," Pauline said, a glimpse of disappointment creeping into her voice. Indeed, it was difficult for her to resign to the fact that Pauline and she had been leaving for a long time on her father Pierre's charity and on Scarlett's charity.

The Old Guard exchanged amazed looks, but said nothing. The legends about Pierre Robillard's greediness and parsimony were widely known in the whole South, especially in Savannah and Charleston. The Old Guard also knew that Pierre had never approved of his daughter's marriage to Gerald O'Hara and had ceased all the contacts with his daughter after that marriage. It was very unexpected that old man suddenly decided to make Scarlett his only legal heiress.

"As far as I know, Madame and Monsieur de Bréval have two children. Unfortunately, my husband hasn't heard from Monsieur de Bréval since last year," Mrs Bromwell said. "Probably, they are very busy in the society and with the children."

Silvia's gaze followed Mrs Bromwell. "Children?" Her face brightened. A married lady with the children wasn't so dangerous for her.

"Yes, indeed, it is true," Pauline confirmed. "Scarlett has two children with her late husband."

At that time, Rhett returned to the living room from the parlor where he went to feel free of heavy boredom in his heart and to have his cigar. He unintentionally overheard what Mrs Bromwell said about Scarlett and Pauline's last words. He looked absolutely indifferent, his face and voice emotionless. As he entered, dazed uncomfortable silence followed. People stared at him in anticipation. The silence between them lengthened, so that amusement in Rhett's mind was slowly replaced by outrage and a slumbering intensity, but he remained proudly aloof.

"Ladies and gentlemen, surely I cannot have rendered you speechless," Rhett said teasingly.

"Of course, not, Mr Butler," Mrs Bromwell said stonily.

Silvia smiled as Rhett entered, her eyes settling on him alone. "Rhett, darling, you finally came back!" she exclaimed.

"I am here, Silvia. I see that you are happy to have me back," Rhett parried icily, his lips curved sardonically. Although mocking, his tone was still rather harsh. Silvia nearly jumped from her seat. There was an apparent insult in his mocking tone. Rhett looked around, his black eyes vacant. "Ladies and gentlemen, surely you haven't despaired of seeing me back to the room? I was just in the parlor," he added in a soft voice. He hoped that a good-humored talk, although said not in as gentle as expected tone, will please the audience. He was bored. He no longer could be gentle.

Rosemary shrugged uncertainly. "We were waiting for you coming back," she forced out a smile.

"You are welcome, Mrs Butler," Miss Margaret Elsbrow smiled to him.

"Rhett, darling, please join us," Silvia smiled.

"I am sorry, Silvia, but I am very tired. Now, if nobody minds, I want to escort Miss Silvia, my sister and my mother home. We wish you a pleasant evening," Rhett declared firmly, but with a grin.

"Certainly, Rhett," Silvia agreed reluctantly.

"Son, you must be extremely tired. You work too much," Eleanor admitted. "We wish to you a good evening. Hope to see you next week."

"Thank you for being with us today," Mrs Bromwell said.

Later in the evening, after the Butlers left the dinner at their friends' house and finally got home, Rhett excused himself and went to his study. He didn't escort Silvia to the Albertson House, and both Rosemary and Eleanor were extremely unhappy about it. Rosemary had to give the carriage for Silvia and accompanied her to the Albertson House.

"Scarlett betrayed me. What a heartless whore! I was correct in my previous judgments," Rhett thought sorrowfully. "She gave children to her new husband! Children! Married to a proper French gentleman! Like me, she is probably trying to be a proper lady. It is hilarious! We are so alike even being divorced, living on various continents, and not keeping in touch."

On that evening Rhett was drinking throughout the whole night to nearly unconscious state. He could not believe that Scarlett was married to another man and that she had two children with her new husband. They were not his children, and it was very painful for him that another man was spending nights with Scarlett and that she gave both to his children. Next morning Eleanor Butler discovered her son sleeping in the armchair, one empty and one half empty bottles of whiskey standing on the table.

"Son, please stop drinking!" Eleanor asked him as she approached the armchair and knelt to her son.

Rhett opened his heavy eyes with an effort. It took him some time to regain the sense of reality. He blinked several times, his black eyes fixing on his mother. "Good morning, mother." He felt that his back was stiffened. He stretched his long legs, his knees trembling.

"Good morning, son," she said, undeniable concern in her blue eyes and in her melodic, drawling voice.

Rhett rubbed his temples. "Mother, I am going upstairs. I need to have a bath."

"Rhett, you must stop drinking," Eleanor said strictly.

Rhett climbed to his feet, awkwardly and slowly. "Mother, I am sorry, but I am a big boy and I know by myself what I must do," he supplied.

Eleanor also rose to her feet. "Son, please…"

Rhett interrupted her. "Mother, see you soon," he said. His tone left no room for further objections. He began moving to the door, his gait unsteady. Then he left.

Rhett was drinking heavily for a week after the event at the Bromwell House. Every day he visited the local whorehouse - _Grace Piexotto's_ "_Big Brick House_", a prominent, high-class brothel located on Beresford Street - on daily basis and was involved intensively in gambling and night parties. He lost money much money, but he didn't care for it. Each game in poker or piquet was a torment for him because he couldn't focus on the game, his mind haze and tired. He wasn't capable of logical reasoning as alcohol oblivion overtook him. Other visitors of the whorehouse were constantly observing him throwing numerous dollar notes on the floor in his drunken fever. When he got home, he was so drunk that the servants had to help him to get to his bedroom.

Eleanor Butler and Rosemary Butler knew the reason - it was Scarlett, her marriage, and her children. Rhett didn't want to talk to them and tried to withdraw from any conversations with them. He also ignored them when he was sober and they asked him to stop drinking. Silvia visited the Butler House twice during that week, but she didn't meet with Rhett. Rosemary told Silvia that Rhett was having a short-notice urgent business trip and forgot to tell her. Rosemary couldn't allow Silvia to see drunken Rhett. By the end of the week, when Rhett was visibly feeling better and stopped drinking, Rosemary announced Silvia that Rhett was back to the city on Saturday night.

Eleanor understood that Rhett had still been obsessed with Scarlett. He couldn't recognize that fact in front of his mother and didn't acknowledge it even to himself, but everything was in vain. Eleanor saw that he was just wasting his energy in the useless duel with himself. Watching Rhett from month to month, she was growing more and more to believe that Rhett had still loved his former wife. However, Eleanor didn't like that fact because she had realized that Rhett and Scarlett's marriage was far from being perfect. In addition, she knew that Scarlett's behavior was far from that of a proper lady as plenty of gossips about Scarlett's business activities traveled from Atlanta to Charleston, as well as were reported to Eleanor by Eulalie and Pauline Robillard. Eleanor wasn't sure that she wanted his son to be connected with such a woman like Scarlett. She wanted Rhett to have a proper wife and to lead a life of a usual Southern gentleman in Charleston.

While Rhett was drinking himself to stupor, other people had many other things to do. It was the cold November night, and as the hands of the cloak measured midnight, a shadowy figure appeared on the street. She had just left one of the gracious antebellum houses on the High Battery where East Bay transforms itself into the East Battery. That figure was wrapped in the black coat. She was wearing the black gloves and the big black hat with wide rims. Apparently, it was one of the masters of the house because the clothes looked very expensive. The figure was very likely to be female.

The lady was slowly walking down the street. It was a cold midnight, but the sky was astonishingly clear, and romantic moonlight was flooding the embankment. There was a cold breeze from the ocean. The person was dressed very warmly and could enjoy the promenade by the water. The view from that place was breathtakingly beautiful. Facing the water, the Cooper River was to the left, the Ashley River was to the right, and directly ahead there was Charleston Harbor. Out in the harbor directly in front of the woman, there was a land mass with a lighthouse and a water tower. That was Sullivan's Island. At that end of Sullivan's Island there was _Fort Moultrie_, the place where the largest sea battle of the American Revolutionary War had taken place. During the civil was with the Yankees, _Fort Moultrie_ was been bombarded heavily and many times was attacked from the ocean, like _Fort Sumter_. When the Confederate army evacuated Charleston in February 1865, _Fort Sumter_ represented itself little more than a pile of rubble, while _Fort Moultrie_ was hidden under the band of sand that had protected its walls from Federal shells. In 1870s, _Fort Moultrie_ was modernized and renovated.

The lady anxiously looked around, and for minute her gaze fixed at something in the distance. She kept going ahead. It was evident that she didn't care for a romantic night and a beautiful chilly night sky, as well as a dark, yet charming ocean view. The person reached the steps and descended to the quay. The moonlight helped her to find what she was searching with her eyes – a small boat prepared for her in advance. She was also searching for another person, her companion, who pledged to come there today. The lady came closer and strained her eyesight to examine whether somebody had been waiting for her. Then she smiled sweetly as she remarked another shadowy figure in the boat. She accelerated her footsteps and in several instances landed at the bottom of the boat. She put off her hat and gave a sweet smile to her companion. Now she felt less nervous as she had finally came here. But now they must hasten to drive out to Sullivan's Island.

The lady glanced at the gentleman. "Good evening," she said with a little chill of formality in her voice.

"Good night, my dear," the gentleman amended in a low-pitched, drawling, impatient, all-too-familiar voice. "Madame, I am delighted to see you."

"Pull the oars as strongly as you can. We must hurry up," she demanded.

He started to violently move the oars. "I am doing this, darling," he grinned. "Don't you see this?"

She sniffed. "I see."

"Are we going again to the same small house on Sullivan's Island?" he asked.

"Of course. Do you have any other options?" she jeered.

"No, I don't."

The lady's voice was tense. "Pull the oars stronger," she ordered.

"My dear, we are quite far from the shore now. We are moving quickly."

Gently, timidly almost, she reached for him and began to stroke his cheek, feeling the muscles rigid under her hand. "Very well."

"How are your deals at home?"

"I am fine. Everything was in routine," she replied. "But you know that."

He laughed. "Oh, I do."

The woman strained her eyes and tried to count the distance from their boat to the shore. "I think we will reach Sullivan's Island in five minutes," she estimated.

The man laughed again and then cursed as he moved the oars stronger. "You are right, my darling."

She ran a critical eye over him. "You are bathing in sweat."

"Ha! Of course," the man's voice spoke breathlessly. "I am doing what you requested – rowing the boat very quickly."

She smiled at him. "You have always done everything I had asked correctly."

The man paused. "Please, take one oar for an instance. I must do something."

She took the oars and pulled them. "Fine."

Impatiently, the gentleman brushed away the trickles of sweat on his temples and on his forehead. Then he made her stop moving the oars. "Stop doing this, my dear. Otherwise you will quickly break into sweat."

"We don't have enough time. I will have to leave at half past five in the morning."

The man's eyes turned round with amazement. "So early?"

The lady's voice grew remote. "I must go." With only a slight quiver in her voice, she reiterated: "I must go."

The man achieved an objectionable grin. "What about the time for us?"

"We will have it, but not as much as we had last time. We have much work to do."

The man grimaced. "Damn this work. I don't want to work today."

The lady frowned, her gaze turned hard. "I am giving much money to you. Isn't it enough for you?"

The man chuckled. "It is enough, darling. Calm down. Otherwise you will bite off your tongue." His voice was edged with mockery and satire.

The lady reached for the man's shoulder and slightly hit him. "Never talk to me in such a mocking tone. You have no right for this. I won't tolerate this," she warned.

The man laughed. He was a real pattern of impudence. "My love, you won't be able to work without me. So you will tolerate me."

"Damn you!" the lady grumbled.

"Today I would love to use our time in another way," the man said.

"We must work. We have a lot of messages to send to Italy and to France."

The man sighed and rubbed his nose by his left hand. "Damn our work. Today I want pleasure!"

The woman laughed at him and leaned forward. She narrowed her eyes and laughed into his face. "I taught you so many complex, useful things. Don't you dare curse our work! Don't forget that I helped you earn the money."

"_Carissima mia (my dear)_, I know about this. Anyway, I cannot show in Charleston how much money I have. My family will never believe that I earned it by myself." He stopped pulling the oars. "I need a minute to rest."

"It is fine. But only a minute," she responded. "We don't have time."

The man smiled lewdly. "Darling, don't worry. I am the only person in Charleston who will never betray you."

"Shall I believe you?" she murmured. "Shall I trust you that far?"

A wry smile curved his lips. "Yes." He pulled the oars so strongly that he nearly groaned from the tension in the muscles of his body.

She grinned at him. "So far you have been a good companion."

"I want you today," he said as he slackened the rhythm of rowing.

The lady theatrically threw dust from her right sleeve. "We will see if we have enough time, _il mio tesoro (my darling)."_

"I am happy that the money I earned is a good fortune," he admitted satisfactorily.

"Well, you must shut up and continue rowing the boat."

The man glared up at her, his eyes scanning her figure. "We have almost arrived, darling."

"Exactly," she nodded as she saw the shore of Sullivan's Island in several meters from the boat. The lady no longer felt her old anxiety. Now she was enjoying a cold breeze from the ocean. The sight of the water became like a drug to her. As she thought that they would do much work now, sadness assaulted her as though it was almost more than she could do to drag herself away from viewing the ocean.

"Done," the man reported as they moored in the small lonely quay.

A sigh of relief escape the lady's lips. "It is a frightfully good thing that we have arrived."

The man gave a hand to the lady and helped her climb out of the boat. "Are you alarmed? I see your increasing tension."

"I am fine. I am just thinking about the work we have to do. We must send everything tomorrow." She paused and looked at him. "Will you do that?"

The man laughed quietly. He crossed his fingers and dramatically kissed them as he promised. "I swear, _carissima mia (my dear)_."

"I know that you will do everything. Now let's go." She made an attempt to move, but he gripped her forearm.

"Darling, don't you have time for me?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Be serious."

"I am very serious," the man said crisply.

"You know I don't love you." There was a tincture of certainty in her voice.

The man's eyes sparkled and gazed eagerly. "And neither do I," he parried.

"Then what do you want?" She knew what he wanted, and his voice had a strangely persuasive power on her. She knew she would eventually surrender to their physical needs.

"As usual, I want just your body. We can give each other some pleasure, can't we?"

The lady stared at him with an intensive gaze. "Last time it wasn't so enjoyable for me because we were working for several hours with those papers and I was tired. And finally you were so drunk."

The man lifted her and held her briefly in his arms, as though afraid of finding her so light. "This time you will have much pleasure." He kissed her cheeks, her nose, her forehead, her lips, and both her hands.

The lady smiled tremulously at him. "_Dio mio! (Oh my God!)_ You must be reasonable! We must work now." She pulled back.

He put her on her feet. Then he bent and kissed her lightly on the lips but that time the lady didn't respond. "And we will work. We will be done by four in the morning and will spend an hour and a half together."

"You must go to a brothel and take a whore," she snarled.

Suddenly, a light breeze transformed into a strong wind was sweeping along the shore, tossing up the sand and whipping the ocean into heavy, grinding breakers that spattered the darkness with white foam. The moon in the sky also disappeared, and now the time was that the night was at the darkest and the thickest, as if all the forces of darkness had been fighting against the onslaught of the light.

The man chuckled. "I am often visiting _Grace Piexotto's_ "_Big Brick House"_. However, I don't like this bordello in this damned city. There are too many Yankees there, and they irritate me."

"It is not my problem that they irritate you," she contradicted.

The man's lips curved in a jeering smile. "Oh, darling, I know that you also hate the Yankees." His low-pitched voice turned lower.

"I do hate them from the bottom of my heart," the lady said. "Anyway, you are better to go to _Grace Piexotto's _whorehouse."

Leaning forward, he took her hand in his. "_Carissima mia (my dear), _if I have a meeting with you_,_I don't need to go to the whorehouse. You are enough to satisfy my needs."

The lady sighed. "Thank you for the compliment." The voice dropped and faded away until it was no more than a whisper. "Now let's go to the house. Besides, I hate this wind." She began moving in the direction of the small dark house on the shore."

The man laughed outright and seizing the lady by the hand pushed her towards the house. "No power on the sinful Earth can distract me from what I want," he grinned wickedly.

Biting her lip, she nodded. "No power, except for a glass of whiskey or a glass of wine," she scoffed.

"Only good whiskey and good wine," he corrected.

"I am looking forward to working. My thoughts are already in the papers," she announced convincingly.

"So am I," he chuckled. His hand came down heavily on the lady's shoulder, warmly reassuring.

They approached the one-storied dark house. The lady extracted the keys from her purse and unlocked the door. The gentleman opened the door, and she came inside. He followed her. That small house on the shore hid them for several hours before the return to the heart of city – the High Battery.

* * *

_I hope you liked this chapter. I wanted to show how Rhett is acting as a proper gentleman of Charleston. What a great pity it is that he is continuing running from himself, spending nights in the brothel and pretending that he is a proper gentleman in the daytime. Isn't it a typical behavior for broken Rhett? Unfortunately, it is son._

_Grace Piexotto's_ "_Big Brick House" is not a fiction detail. It indeed existed in reality. _

_Any thoughts who the lady and her lover are in reality? I would be interested to know what you think about them at this stage._

_Please let me know what you think about this chapter. Any reviews are always appreciated. Thank you very much in advance! _


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

**Arrival of former spouses at Tara**

Throughout the whole week, Rhett was drinking himself to half death. He spent several nights out and when he came home, he often didn't go back to his room and thus slept in the study room on the sofa. One morning, his sister Rosemary discovered sleeping Rhett on that sofa. Rosemary sniffed because at that moment her brother looked like a devil. She looked at the motionless body on the sofa and her eyes fixed that Rhett had probably been drinking heavily the whole night. His hair was standing on end, his cravat hanging loose, and his shirt unfastened to the waist. As Rhett heard Rosemary's footsteps, he opened his eyes. As he stared at her, she screamed in horror and disgust: her brother had the brick-red complexion and glassy eyes of a man who was suffering from the last stages of drunkenness. The study room was unkempt, and Rosemary's nostrils quivered at the heavy odor of whiskey that filled the room.

Rosemary stared at Rhett. "Why are you drinking? Do you want to become a chronic alcoholic, like Ross?"

Rosemary was truly afraid of Rhett after what had happened with her another brother – _Ross Duncan Butler_. Ross's wife Marianne died several years ago, and after her death Ross became an alcoholic who lived alone at the tumble-down house at Dunmore Landing, the Butler's former grand plantation.

"Go away," Rhett said in a strident voice.

"Rhett, stop drinking."

"Go away," he repeated.

"God, Rhett! Are you suffering because of that wanton woman who had got married to a French nobleman immediately after you divorced her?"

"Stop talking, Rosemary," he warned.

Rosemary looked at Rhett with misery. "This woman gave the children to this man. Rhett, you must understand that she had betrayed you. Your future life and happiness are with Silvia."

He rushed to her and his hands round Rosemary's forearm. She uttered a cry of terror, and his grip had relaxed. With one movement, she jerked herself free and crouched back in the corner of the room, closer to the door. She raised hands up to stop Rhett from touching her.

"Don't say any word about her," he said in a heavy, exhausted voice, which was caused by drinking to have a note of disgust.

"You are mad in your drunkenness!" she croaked at him in terror. She was filled with an overriding horror that made her forget her fear for a moment. "You are mad in your blind obsession with that woman!"

Sobered to some extent, Rhett tossed back the black hair dripping in his eyes. "Shut up," he threatened. "Leave right now."

"Calm down, Rhett. Go to your bedroom and have a bath," she hissed. "I am leaving."

"I know by myself what to do," he barked.

Rosemary reached for the doorknob and pulled it. She paused and glared at Rhett. "You are drunk! You can become out of your mind, like Ross, and it may happen soon. Take this into account, my dear brother. This woman is not worth all this depression and madness." As she said that, she opened the door and left the study room, slamming the door loudly.

Rhett felt ruined and had terrible headache. He rubbed his temples and reached for his cigar case at the desk. He took a cigar and lit it and inhaled. Three minutes passed. Then he threw half finished cigar on the carpet and headed to the door. As it was around eight in the morning, the household was awake. Rhett left the study room and went to the living room. He ordered all the servants not to disturb him and made his way upstairs into his bedroom. There he quickly undressed and collapsed on the bed. Sleep claimed him almost immediately.

Rhett slept throughout the whole day and the next night. When he awoke next morning, it took him some time to realize that another morning had already come. As he climbed out of the bed, his head heavy in the aftermath of the hangover, he rang the bell for his valet to come. As a middle-aged man, the only white servant at the Butler household, came inside the room, Rhett glared at him and asked to help him dress. He chose a dark blue three-piece suit, consisting of the waistcoat, the jacket, and the trousers. He favored the light magenta shirt and the magenta cravat to wear with the suit. His day attire was finished by the black derby hat and the black shoes. Only his bloodshot eyes betrayed the true nature of his lounging throughout the last week.

Rhett knew that now he had to start doing something. He made his way downstairs right into his study room. He was going to look through his papers. As Rhett didn't check his correspondence for the last week, he assumed that there had been a huge pile of unread letters at his desk in the study room. As he settled himself on the sofa, he began to read the papers. Looking at one of the letters, Rhett turned numb and he swallowed hard. Mammy, Scarlett's old nanny, was referred by Will Benteen to be sick and asking Rhett for visit. Now Rhett realized why he met Scarlett in Atlanta near the railway station and that she should have been heading to Tara because of Mammy whom she loved dearly. The telegram was dated by the beginning of the week, and Rhett felt a little worried about Mammy as he could be late with his visit. And he also was thinking about Scarlett. With this in mind, Rhett left his study and went to the living room. He found his mother, Rosemary, and Silvia who were having lunch and had a lively discussion about the wedding.

"Mother, Rosemary, Silvia, I am leaving on business. I don't know when I will be back. Ask somebody to help me pack right now." Rhett didn't want to elaborate on the reasons of his urgent departure.

"Oh! You returned only yesterday. And now leaving again? What happened?" Silvia asked. Silvia thought that Rhett had been out of the city on business as Rosemary didn't want to tell her that Rhett had been heavily drinking because of Scarlett.

Rosemary's hazel eyes expressed disappointment and concern. "Rhett, where are you going? Why so urgent?"

"Yes, Silvia and Rosemary, it is very urgent and requires my immediate presence in another place," Rhett explained in a calm voice. He walked over to the side table and poured himself a liberal glass of whiskey.

"Rhett, you cannot leave now," Rosemary protested.

"I can and I will. I don't know how long I will be absent," Rhett replied, dismissing the subject with a cheerful wave of his hand. He took a small sip of whiskey.

"But Rhett…" Silvia interjected.

"I am leaving. I must go. You will be perfectly well without me, attending these… erm… numerous tea parties and charity events," he replied. He wanted to call these events boring, but he cut himself sharply off and substituted boring for numerous in order to avoid potential family clash.

"Rhett, darling, write us if you will be absent for a long time," Eleanor wanted to end this conversation.

He shrugged unenthusiastically. "Alright."

"I hope you will have a good trip, son," Eleanor said

In an hour after the aforementioned conversation, Rhett Butler left his house at the Battery. He was heading to the central railway station of Charleston to take the earliest train for Jonesboro and then get to Tara to see Mammy and, most likely, meet Scarlett. He didn't have many things with him.

"Scarlett loves Mammy and should be there. What will she say when she meets me? Are her children with her at Tara? It will be an interesting meeting. I hope Mammy is still alive and I am not late," Rhett thought as he boarded the train. He was immediately lost in his thoughts.

What was Scarlett doing at Tara? Apparently, she was with Mammy because the old woman was sick. How will Scarlett react when she meets Rhett and their eyes lock even for a second? Will she be as casually indifferent as she behaved when they occasionally met near the railway station in Atlanta? What was actually happening in Scarlett's mind? What was her life in Europe like? When did her husband die? What did she feel to him? Did she miss her later husband? These were, as Rhett was well aware, no easy questions to find answers for them. And even when he knew the truth that Scarlett had been at Tara because of Mammy, he still wasn't sure that Scarlett hadn't visited Ashley in Atlanta. Did she come to him? Did she miss Ashley when she was away? Did Scarlett sponsor Ashley's life, as it was rumored in Atlanta? Rhett's mouth twisted in bitter sardonic laugh at the grotesqueness of the situation: he finally was going to Scarlett's favorite Tara and to the woman he had sworn never to see again. Apparently, Gods were laughing at him. Heaven help him when he meets Scarlett.

It was the chilly afternoon of early November when a handsome, well-dressed man stepped on the platform at Jonesboro railway station. Having disembarked the train, he made his way in the direction of the carriages line to catch one and head for his final destination to Tara. Not being overloaded with excessive luggage, he was quickly moving in the crowd of people, many of whom turned around to this man. His grand tenure and footstep, one would think, compelled the crowd to consider the audacity and splendor emanating from his appearance and body to be an inalienable attribute of a sovereign on the threshold of his coronation. Undoubtedly, Rhett Butler was accustomed to glances of scrutiny and subsequent bewitchment, which have accompanied him since his early youth and in adulthood.

Rhett admitted to himself that he was excited about the upcoming day and that the prospective encounter with Scarlett could lead to a ray of optimism and hopefulness for his soul, which was incapable of feeling something in the past years. Rhett Butler was approaching Tara. When Rhett found himself on the front steps of Tara, he stopped and knocked at the front door.

"Good morning. Is anybody here? May I come in?" Rhett asked calmly.

Rhett heard hard male voice outside the door. He turned around.

"Good morning," somebody said.

"Good morning," Rhett repeated.

"Who is here?" the same voice asked.

"I am Rhett Butler. I am here to see Mammy as I received your telegram several days ago."

"Please come in, sir. My name is Will Benteen, if you remember me. I am Suellen O'Hara's husband."

"Mr Benteen, of course, I remember you. It has been ages since we last met. How are you doing?" Rhett asked Will as he came into the parlor and saw Prissy who showed him in the direction of living room.

"Suellen and I have been doing fine. Our children are also fine. Thank you, Mr Butler. How was your journey? Are you tired? Do you want any refreshments?" Will asked in a very delicate manner.

Having entered the living room, Rhett settled himself comfortably on the old sofa and began: "Nice to hear you are well. My journey was quite long. The train was very slow and behind the schedule. May I have my cigar here?"

"You can smoke here. We are accustomed," Will's answer followed.

"Thank you, Will," Rhett said and lit his cigar. "I wouldn't mind to have a cup of coffee, if it is not a matter of disturbance for you."

"Of course, it is not a problem. Prissy, please bring coffee to us and biscuits," Will added and forced a smile. Rhett was a kind of unusual man for him, and he found him mysterious and unusual. Will shrugged under Rhett's alert, cold gaze. Never had he ever known a man who was more self-assured and treated people with more indifference than Rhett Butler did.

"Mr Butler, let me introduce to you my wife Suellen," Will managed a civil smile on his lean face. "Maybe, you remember her."

"Welcome to Tara, Mr Butler. You look very prosperous. I am pleased to see my brother-in-law in our humble dwelling," Suellen greeted Rhett will poorly hidden envy and artificial sweet smile, making an accent on the brother-in-law deliberately. She turned around and saw dissatisfied expression on Will's face. Her mind reproduced her husband's instructions regarding her behavior with Rhett, including proper topics for conversation, and her face softened, her jaw looked visibly more relaxed now from previous strain and rage.

"I am glad to see you, Mrs Benteen. You can call me Rhett, if you want. How is Mammy?" Rhett bowed to her low, and a broad, half-mocking smile stirred his lips, his white teeth flashing under his small black mustache. He exhaled the smoke of his Cuban cigar and looked at Suellen appraisingly, which made Will involuntary shrug. Rhett smiled in response, quite warmly for usual himself.

"Thank you, Mr Butler. Call as by our first names too. Mammy is very sick. Yesterday, Doctor Fontaine examined her and told us that he expects her to live up to one month maximum. She is too fragile. She asked Suellen for you yesterday," Will answered to Rhett's question.

"I am very sorry to hear this, Will. Who else is here, at Tara?" Rhett questioned with overdone courtesy.

"Scarlett was at Tara for three weeks, but she went back to Atlanta some time ago. She promised to return the other day. She was always with Mammy in her room and extremely worried."

"Thank you, Will. May I see Mammy?" Rhett stood up from the sofa and took from Prissy's hands a cup of warm coffee, then headed back to his initial location.

"Suellen, please, take care of Mr Butler," Wills uttered.

"Rhett," Rhett amended with a smile.

"Rhett," Will repeated. "Rhett, I will whether Mammy is sleeping." He felt uneasily under Rhett's intensive gaze. He didn't understand this man.

"Let me show your room, Rhett. I presume you are here not for one day, aren't you?" Suellen asked.

"You are right, Suellen. I will stay with Mammy. I respect and love her. Thank you for your hospitality," Rhett said to Suellen who showed him mechanically to go upstairs.

The next three days at Tara were spent by the household members in a routine kind. Rhett was spending some time with Will. Often he was also sitting with Mammy in her room, but she was always sleeping. Remarkably, Rhett spent with Mammy even more time when Suellen did. Suellen periodically checked how the old woman was doing, but usually she asked Rhett or Will how Mammy was progressing in her deathbed swoon.

Scarlett still didn't return to Tara, and Rhett wondered why she had gone to Atlanta and when she would come back to Tara. Did she come there to Ashley? He hoped that his worst-case scenario that Scarlett had been visiting her precious Ashley in Atlanta wouldn't turn out to be truth. Anger and rampage began to surge through his masculine, tanned body each time he fantasized Scarlett and Ashley's meeting in Atlanta and imagined them kissing each other. No, it wasn't possible, he though, feeling as though he had been suffocating at a single though of Scarlett and Ashley. And he couldn't escape this feeling. Was it jealousy? Why did he feel so?

It happened in the early hours of the morning on the fourth day after Rhett's arrival to Tara when Suellen, Rhett, and Will were awoken by the noise of moving carriages. They heard how one carriage stopped and a coachman cried out something to somebody. Then another carriage stopped, obviously also near the house. However, as everybody remembered that the gang of dangerous criminals from Texas had been terrorizing the neighborhood for the past several months, suspicion and fear slid into everybody's mind.

Rhett was sleeping at that time. As he heard strange movement outside the house, he quickly climbed of his bed and dressed. Then he made his way downstairs and saw Will and Suellen in the parlor. They had already got up two hours ago, as usual. Rhett and Will exchanged alarmed looks, both thinking about the possibility of the attack by the gang of criminals that had been terrorizing Georgia for the past several months. Soon they were joined by Pork and other male servants, ready to repel an attack.

What they saw was more amusing and hilarious than threatening: three unfamiliar male servants were unloading two carriages that stood on the road right in front of the front door. The men were whistling and singing something under their nose. They had already put three trunks, four suitcases, and two large boxes on the front steps. It was evident that the carriages were still half full. Thus, it was more than likely that many more things would be unloaded soon. However, the master of all these things was still not available for the observation.

Frozen and openmouthed, Suellen and Will stared in abashment at the picture in front them. It was evident that they hadn't expected to see this mess under their nose. Will looked calm, but a little absent-minded and stunned, and there was no malice in his hard features of his face. In contrast to her husband, Suellen was angry. As she stood rooted, at first she couldn't say a single world for quite some time. However, her eyes betraying her true state of mind – ever-rising anger and bittersweet, taunting malice. Her eyes were shooting daggers, her fists were clenched, her jaw tightened. Suellen didn't bother herself to think that she had probably been unaccountably angry. In contrast to Sullen and Will, Rhett was the first who realized what had happened. It was just Scarlett's long-awaited arrival from Atlanta. Scarlett was the only person who could make such a mess in the early morning and with so much noise.

Later they noticed a slender woman who was slowly approaching the front steps from another side, not where the carriages were standing. That young woman was wearing a dashing white silk tight outdoor dress with a low V-shaped neckline and long airy sleeves, made of silk of silver-black color and trimmed with a remarkable profusion of super-tiny Venetian laces and stunning silver crystals in the form of heart. It was Scarlett. Now Suellen and Will also recognized her.

As Scarlett approached them, a faint smile stirred her lips. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. It is going to be such a nice day," she greeted them in the manner of polite indifference.

Scarlett's green eyes skimmed at three people in front of her. She couldn't have been shocked by Rhett's mocking words. Her vision narrowed, her mind rejecting all other thoughts until its only focus was Rhett's sentence. He was indeed here at Tara. Her gaze didn't stop and even delayed at her former husband's face. She anticipated that she would meet Rhett Butler at Tara. Scarlett decided to behave in her usual manner, calm and tranquil, no matter what happens. She could not show Rhett her emotional unrest, as she said to herself. When her eyes locked with his curious black eyes, her beautiful face stayed completely blank, and her face muscles were virtually relaxed and soft. She was excited to see him again, but how she hated him for all what he had done to her. She was now playing Rhett's own old game, and she knew that he noticed it.

Rhett breathed in and then out deeply. "Good morning, Madame. Morning is still young," he began in his familiar half mocking tone, looking attentively at his former wife.

"Good morning, Scarlett," Will said simply.

Her green eyes ran Will and Rhett from the toes to their crown. "Good morning," she said in response.

Rhett immediately recognized her mask and sighed deeply in his frustration. He also noticed her glamour tight outdoor dress, which fascinated him and became the object of jealousy for her sister Suellen. It was the same mask that she was wearing on her face in Atlanta, the same suave, impersonal indifference that accompanied their loveless marriage. Rhett recognized that he was somehow related to her ability to wear this mask so professionally.

Rhett's black eyes also took in Scarlett's unconventional, even exotic beauty: her arresting face with pointed chin and a little squared jaw; her pale green eyes, without a touch of hazel, and tilted at the ends; her thick black brows slanted upward; her startling magnolia-white skin; her slender white hands and gorgeous bosom; her full, well-formed breasts and her tiny waist. For Rhett, her green eyes, framed with dark lashes and spaced just far enough apart to give her an exotic air, were the most precious features of Scarlett's face. Despite the fact that she didn't have pure classic features of her lovely face and her face couldn't be easily compared with a statue of Roman or Greek Gods, Scarlett was anyway stunningly beautiful, but in her own way, unconventional and subtly extravagant, unparallel and one-of-a-kind, enigmatic and fathomless. Over the years, Scarlett's beauty and attractiveness didn't fade away, and now she even looked much more attractive than several years ago when Rhett had divorced her. She became more feminine, even startlingly feminine. Something mysterious, even fatal emerged in all her appearance and in the air around her, yet she looked innocent and naïve. It was a paradoxical, enigmatic, incredible, and larger-than-life combination, which made Scarlett stand out among the other women even more than it was in her early youth, when vivacity and energy and charms of a Southern belle were the features that attracted men's attention to her. Now Scarlett didn't need her old charms of a Southern belle because the breathtaking mixture of looking so feminine, so enigmatic, and so innocent at the same time compensated everything. Now Scarlett had much greater magnetism that dragged admirers and worshipers to her. God, how beautiful and attractive Scarlett was, Rhett mused. And that silver-black dress she was wearing today stressed her beauty even more.

"Scarlett, only you could come on sunrise and wake up the whole house," Suellen said unpleasantly.

Scarlett shrugged nonchalantly. "Probably."

"You have no shame and honesty. What are these people doing and whose things are they unloading?" Suellen cried out, her eyes shooting sparkles of jealousy and venom. She was irritated with Scarlett's indifference and overdone politeness.

Scarlett's eyes swung to the front door, away from her sister. "Suellen, please calm down. I had to bring with me here my entire luggage! I couldn't leave it in Atlanta."

"Oh, God!" Suellen continued her outburst. "You have no shame! You awoke the whole household! I am afraid my children will awake."

Scarlett managed an inoffensive smile. "I am sorry, Suellen," she simply said.

"Why did you arrive so early? Why couldn't you arrive later?"

Scarlett turned to look at her sister and rolled her eyes at her question. "You don't need to be so mean, Suellen. Of course, I considered a variant to arrival later today, but, unfortunately, I could have these men to help me only at this time of the day." She showed by hand at three servants who unloaded the carriage.

Will gave to Scarlett a vague smile. "I hope your trip was pleasant."

"I also hope so," Rhett added.

"Thank you, gentlemen," Scarlett said briefly. Then she twisted her mouth in a sardonic smile, he eyes fixing at Suellen's face. "I think all of you should be pleased I finally arrived home."

"And we are," Will said.

"I cannot be pleased when you unceremoniously intrude in my life and ruin it!" Suellen exploded, feeling even more quarrelsome and out of sorts. Her voice took a higher octave. "You ruined my day."

Scarlett shrugged carelessly and smiled light-heartedly. "Suellen, I am sorry. Besides, it is not so early now. It is around eight in the morning."

Will stared at his irksome wife, frustration creasing his forehead. "Suellen, please stop it," he warned her. "Scarlett apologized. And for sure she didn't ruin your day."

Suellen, christened Susan Elinor, had never lost any chance to spite, intimidate, or humiliate Scarlett. When Scarlett, Suellen, and Carreen were very young, Suellen was always such an attentive, obedient ear to her mother Ellen's teachings, which at times infuriated Scarlett so much that she was ready to slap Suellen across her face several times and shook her for her shoulders. Scarlett had always considered Suellen to be just an annoying sister with her whining and selfishness, and had it not been for Ellen's restraining hand, Scarlett and Suellen could easily be involved into scuffle between each other. Scarlett and Suellen were always fighting in verbal conflicts.

The current situation was entertaining for Scarlett. The most comical was the fact that Suellen had always prided herself on her elegance, grace, and ladylike deportment. Even now Suellen was sure that she had all the rights to talk to Scarlett in an unladylike manner, yet still limelighting on her courteous demeanor and her well-bred behavior. Even when Suellen didn't act as a true lady, she imagined the opposite. Scarlett never thought that Suellen had been an epitome of a lady, like her mother Ellen and her sister Carreen. Now, when Scarlett apologized, she smiled so light-heartedly and so ironically because in Suellen's current behavior was nothing ladylike and elegant – it was a simple wrangle, which Scarlett didn't like. However, Sullen didn't notice it.

Scarlett inhaled deeply. "In these trunks you will also find presents for you and my beloved nieces. You will have an opportunity to unwrap and try gifts during the day. These people are servants whom I hired in Atlanta to help me with transportation," Scarlett explained politely and clapped her hands playfully.

"Presents for me and girls? Really? Is this your entire luggage? Oh my God, are you joking? You are in your usual extravagant manner."

"Yes, I am," Scarlett replied calmly, although in reality she wanted to slap Suellen across her face.

"What shame," Suellen continued her outburst, despite Will's disapproving glances at her, and repeated waspishly. "You have no shame!"

"Please, Suellen…" Will asked softly.

"Yes, presents, Suellen. Relax and tell these guys where to put other three trunks, which are still inside the carriage," Scarlett said. Only mild annoyance colored her tone, and no emotion flickered in her eyes. "These are your presents. Trunks are very heavy."

Suellen was numb after Scarlett's cold words. She was biting her bottom lip, her gaze flying from Will's face to Scarlett's face. She felt nervous. Yet, she was confused and astonished.

"Scarlett, I hope your trip went well. You look tired. Should we ask Prissy to help you get to bed? I am truly worried about you. Mammy is without any changes, don't worry for her at least now," Will tried to diffuse a situation, looking at his wife with pure irritation.

"That is a wonderful idea. Suellen, common sense always hides shame. But not everywhere there is common sense. See you all soon," Scarlett said.

Scarlett turned around and headed to the front door. She opened the door and quickly went inside the house into the parlor. Her only intention was to go upstairs and have some rest. She was indeed tired. Yes, she wanted to be alone in her old bedroom and better to lock the door for several days and lose the key, so as she could be alone just for some time. Alternatively, she could lock herself with her dear Mammy in the same room, the thought of which made Scarlett smile to herself. In the parlor Scarlett was met by smiling Prissy, her former personal maid.

Nobody seemed to notice Scarlett's mocking comment, except for Rhett who laughed heatedly in his mind. He was amazed that Scarlett managed to mock at Suellen so ingeniously that her sister didn't realize the sense of what Scarlett has done. Against his will, Rhett admired Scarlett for her audacious exclamations, with bitter and brutal mockery, which were wrapped accurately in the cover of extreme courtesy and nonchalance. He chuckled as he saw his own behavior in Scarlett. Was her behavior and impassive mask the product of their marriage? What was covered with this mask?

One evening Scarlett, Rhett, Suellen, and Will were having dinner in the living room furnished with every refinement of comfort, at first everybody was keeping silent. Scarlett brought with her excellent French wine from her splendid cellar of wine and truly enjoyed it, but Rhett was the only one who appreciated her choice. After a few words by Rhett about the wine, silence returned to the room. Will broke this odious silence and told Scarlett about Carreen's new life and the problems with ownership of Tara, which turned out to be the unwelcome surprise for Scarlett.

"Scarlett, do you remember that Carreen had joined the convent of Savannah?" Suellen asked.

"Certainly," Scarlett nodded abruptly in an agreement. "Why are you asking, Sue?"

"Do you know how Carreen is doing in the convent?" Suellen verbalized a new question. Her eyes perpetually narrowed with malice. Right now, Suellen's eyes were slits of hatred as they turned toward Scarlett. She raised her head and stared at her sister with intensity.

"I wanted to ask you about it," Scarlett said, the mimic of her face still frozen and impenetrable. She didn't blink under Suellen's hateful stare. She slowly turned her head and tossed an expressionless glance at Suellen. "Unfortunately, I haven't heard from Carreen for long time. Maybe, you didn't write her that I had moved to Europe."

"If you recall, Carreen left almost immediately after our father's death," Suellen reminded drily, her forehead furrowed in hatred. "Currently, she is doing fine. I received a letter from her a month ago."

"I am glad that she is fine," Scarlett returned, suppressing a smile as she glanced at her rebellious sister. "Can you please give me Carreen's letter to read in case it is not too private?"

"I don't want to take your time, dear sister," Suellen said to spite Scarlett. "You are so busy."

"Suellen, please give to Scarlett this letter tomorrow," Will intruded, his mouth set hard, betraying anger. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes, I do, Will," Suellen hissed.

"Thank you, Suellen." Will directed a meaningful gaze at her.

"Carreen was deeply affected by Brent's death in the war. I guess this is the reason for her desire to become a nun. I will try to meet with her if I make it to Savannah in the nearest future, but I doubt that I will have time for this trip in the nearest future," Scarlett said, her eyes absolutely blank, arrogance in all her posture and demeanor. "I never wanted Carreen to join the convent. It is very pity for all of us.

"Carreen is not like you, Scarlett. She cannot marry so many times," Suellen continued to insult Scarlett.

"Yes, Carreen is not me. I forgot that I don't have a shame," Scarlett retorted at Suellen's remark. There was a sardonic grin on her face at the last words but it faded as Will shot a dagger look on his wife.

"Suellen, please shut up," Will barked. "I asked you to behave properly in relation to Scarlett and Rhett."

"Fine, Will." Suellen winced at the blaze of fury her behavior ignited in her husband's hard features. She lowered her head. "I am sorry."

"The negative news is that Carreen's decision to join convent of Savannah ultimately resulted in problems with ownership for Tara, Scarlett," Will said.

"Indeed? Why?" Scarlett asked with interest, slightly rising her eyebrows. Rhett was watching the changes and movement of each muscle of her face and was stunned when he noticed that even a feeling of deep bewilderment didn't leave any distinguishable trace on her pretty face. She was so indifferent, yet not very artificial that it irritated him up to his bones. He sighed heavily again, again, and again. What happened with her? What game was she playing?

"Because all what is in her property now belongs to the Church," Will answered and looked attentively at Scarlett, also apparently puzzled at her stealthy reaction to such important news.

"I don't like it. Is it possible to do something? I can buy her share of Tara, for example," Scarlett questioned coldly. Supreme indifference flashed in her eyes and came across her face. Rhett concluded that it was a sort of expression of her arrogance.

"I don't know," Will answered and shrugged in uncertainty, gazing at Scarlett in anticipation.

"It is possible. I know some cases in past, but in Charleston," Rhett answered. As he turned to face her, he reminded himself that no matter what she said or did, he would be patient and understanding, playing a game of a polite stranger. "I guess the question is with whom you will speak to and how much you offer for the stake of Tara."

"You have made a point, Mr Butler," Scarlett said curtly. "It would be a wise decision to buy this stake. I will think about it later. I am too tired now. It is better to do it tomorrow."

"You need to talk to the Bishop in Savannah. As I know, they are currently renovating the convent, and, I bet, their need money desperately for reconstruction," Rhett said with an expressionless face and smiled as he recognized Scarlett's plea about postponing some thinking for tomorrow. At least in something she still was the old Scarlett, as he mused.

"Thank you for the information. They should need money under these circumstances," Scarlett said, lost in her thoughts. It is truth that she was interested in the matter, but she didn't wish to show her anxiety to Rhett. "I think they may accept my very generous proposal. I hope I find time to do it this time."

"But it will be very expensive to buy Carreen's share of Tara," Suellen commented, blushing at her thoughts about money and evaluating how much money Scarlett could have on her bank account.

"I don't care for money. I have more than enough," Scarlett answered. Scarlett witnessed how pale Suellen's face went at these words and smirked involuntary. "I will pay as much as they will request."

"I don't have any doubts, Madame Scarlett," Rhett smirked coldly, not looking at her. He sighed heavily, feeling as the air around him was becoming more and more suffocating amid the general tense atmosphere in the room.

"She has a lot of money. In addition, she is so noble," Suellen parried.

"Suellen! Stop attacking your sister!" Will commanded, looking at Suellen who paled. The words were spoken with such sincerity that poor Scarlett looked at him with compassion in her eyes. "Find other civil means of amusing yourself this evening."

"Will, leave her," Scarlett replied shortly. A discordant note of laugh echoed through the room. She added in a slightly agitated voice: "I am going to settle this question so decidedly as soon as I can, so that there will never be a repetition of the case when Tara is owned not by the family member."

"If you succeed, I will be happy," Will admitted.

"I will buy Carreen's stake," Scarlett declared flatly.

"And if it doesn't happen?" Will ventured cautiously.

"It will happen," Scarlett persevered with confidence, her eyes sparkling with triumphant satisfaction. At that moment, she seemed to emanate the restrained power and unyielding authority Will and Suellen had always sensed and feared. It was evident that the topic was closed.

As the days were passing, the tension between Scarlett and Suellen didn't disappear as they were incapable of communicating through the wall of hatred and contempt. Suellen turned to be more hateful and malicious, but under Scarlett's mask of polite indifference and French courtesy she had surrendered and at times even looked dismayed and defeated. Suellen wasted many efforts in unsuccessful attempts to mask her real state of mind – her envy, jealousy, and hatred.

Suellen became even more beaten when she opened the gifts Scarlett prepared for her and her children. Scarlett brought from Paris for Suellen seven gorgeous outdoor and walking gowns of various colors and fabrics, which in accordance with the new European fashion, were tight in the body and had medium or long trains. She also bought for her four evening gowns, including one of a pure French fashion, four tea gowns, and two artistic gowns. Each gown had a matching pair of shoes and purse, as well as undergarments, including corsets, bustles, and silk and chiffon chemises. All the things were newly fashionable and of the highest quality. The gifts for Scarlett's nieces also produced a lot of joy and happiness for small girls. Suellen thanked Scarlett as sweet as she could, but regret, envy, and bitterness of her tone couldn't remain unnoticed by both Rhett and Scarlett.

Scarlett seemed to enjoy her sister's surprise and bewilderment relative to her gifts and Scarlett's general behavior. Both Rhett and Scarlett were bursting into laugh in their own mind when Suellen was unwrapping the presents and trying the dresses. They liked the dumbfound expression on her face, stemming from her envy and absence of skills to wear such things. It was Scarlett who tried to teach Suellen and gave her lessons of how and when to wear artistic gown or tea gown, French evening dress, and some other details. Suellen was especially confused about the style of French evening gown, which in France was typical to wear with mid-length opera gloves and, at times, with a black neck ribbon. Suellen was also stunned with artistic dresses, which so contrasted with outdoor gowns Scarlett brought to her and which she was wearing, as artistic fashion trend rejected the structured and trimmed dresses in favor of simplicity of design. Suellen understood nothing in it, but was eager to know, and the manner to express her desire was so funny that Rhett and Scarlett had to abstain from laughing with a great deal of effort and will. On the background of their sad mood because of Mammy's fragile health, Suellen entertained them a lot.

Although Scarlett tried to avoid Rhett and Suellen, there was one time when she had an opportunity to see both of them. It was the dinner time. Rhett, Scarlett, Suellen, and Will met every day at the dinner table. Often the dinners were spent in nearly dead silence. Suellen and Will were watching Scarlett and Rhett with interest, but the former spouses were as cold and indifferent as perfect strangers or passers-by in the street. Both were somewhere else, lost in their own thoughts. Rhett was studying Scarlett in this startled silence, while she mentally was in France with Annabelle and her children – Blanche and Isabelle. Scarlett and Rhett didn't look at each other, and even if a short single gaze was casted by one of them at the other, it was absolutely frothy. Nobody could understand what they were thinking about. Nobody could imagine that these two strangers at the same dinner table had been married for nearly six years. When Suellen and Will's eyes locked for a moment in a significant amusement, they merely shrugged almost simultaneously in bewilderment, stemming from Scarlett and Rhett's behavior.

Scarlett was happy that despite the more tensed general environment in the house, Suellen obeyed to Will's instructions and kept her mouth shut. Scarlett was secretly afraid that Suellen would tell Rhett her sweet secret in an attempt to have her revenge on Scarlett for her marriage to Frank Kennedy. She again asked Will to talk to Suellen, and he assured her that he would make his wife keep silent. Scarlett's concerns didn't materialize, and she was happy that Will was able to manage Suellen's behavior so well. She couldn't tell Rhett the truth, at least not yet, she thought. However, Scarlett was confused with her initial intention to keep her sweet secret from the outside world. She felt trapped and elated at the same time. Finally, she decided that time would show what to do.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

**At Tara: the terrible clash with Suellen and indifference between Rhett and Scarlett**

One afternoon, Rhett, Scarlett, and Suellen were sitting in the living room, while Will was checking Tara's accounting books upstairs in the bedroom. Scarlett was drinking her favorite wine, while Rhett was pouring another glass of his favorite whiskey he usually ordered from France. Suellen was watching them with undeniable interest in the current status of their relations. She knew that they were a divorced couple, and, given that Scarlett was her blood sister and divorce was implicitly assumed to disgrace the whole family, Suellen wanted to attack Scarlett on this issue. She was enjoying her sister's suffering.

"Scarlett, my dear sister, how was your trip to Atlanta?" Suellen asked Scarlett with poorly concealed mockery and disgust in her voice.

"It was fine. Thank you, Suellen," Scarlett answered, continuing to drink wine, which irritated Suellen the most.

"And how are Annabelle's deals?" Suellen inquired.

"Annabelle is perfectly fine and is on her way back to France now."

Suellen grimaced. "She is a disgusting creature! She is from your sort!"

"Annabelle is definitely not a creature. Please don't touch her," Scarlett countered. She looked calm, but for an instance her twisted lips slightly betrayed her rising anger and then her face again turned blank.

Startled for a moment, Suellen's eyes swung around to her. She said tensely: "Annabelle told me something about serving as a lady-in-waiting at _Napoleon III's_ court. I can imagine how many lovers this lady had. She is a shameful creature!"

The green eyes were like ice. "She isn't a creature," Scarlett said abruptly. Certain note of threat in her voice warned Suellen not to pursue the subject further.

An unjust and illogical anger completely smoldered in the depths of her mind against Scarlett, and she took Annabelle as a butt. "She is," Suellen snapped.

"There is nothing more to be said, Suellen." Scarlett's eyes changed the color and turned pale green. She held her sister's gaze. She steeled herself for the continuation of an unpleasant conversation. Scarlett said seriously, her face expressionless: "Stop this ostentatious charade, darling. Please remember that Annabelle is also from the Robillard family, like you and me. Our mother Ellen also descended from the Robillard noble house of France."

"You brought her to Tara in order to show how rich you and she are. You are a boaster!" Suellen continued her attack. She apparently disliked Annabelle.

"You hate Annabelle because she is much more intelligent than you are," Scarlett parried, her face still under rigid control. "Besides, she is very well-dressed and exhibits an epitome of good manners." She resumed sipping wine after a prolonged pause when she was simply observing her sister. Wine helped her to gather her strength for the chat with Suellen.

"No, it is not truth, Scarlett."

"You are wrong, Sue. Annabelle is a very good lady. You are right in what we are alike. She also lost three husbands and her small son died. Don't touch her with your useless, poisonous tongue. I remind you that she is your third cousin, my dearest sister."

"My dear sister, did you visit somebody from your old friends in Atlanta?" Suellen continued. The conversation was becoming more and more similar to the criminal's interrogation.

"Yes, I saw my former dressmaker, Mrs Loewe, and Ashley Wilkes," Scarlett snapped carelessly. With the last question, Suellen apparently hinted on Ashley, and Scarlett knew this. That's why she lazily confirmed Suellen's thought. She knew that Suellen attacked her only because she hated Scarlett, but also because she strived to get away from all the boredom, routine, and emptiness of her present daily round and throw her energies into something, which in her opinion was worth fighting against. Sue thought that it was Scarlett whom she must have fought against and now she followed this strategy.

"Ashley Wilkes?" Suellen's eyes grew wide in anticipation as she found how to humiliate her sister.

Scarlett drew a deep breath. "Ashley Wilkes," her voice echoed.

"Oh God, Scarlett! You have no shame! You again lust for him and further disgrace our family."

"I told you what I think about shame. In what I met Ashley there is common sense. I am just keeping the word I gave to my friend Melanie when she died. I promised her to look for Ashley and Beau. Therefore, I have shame. You see, darling Suellen," Scarlett claimed and, raising her head, looked at Suellen with strong pity and compassion in her emerald eyes. When Suellen mentioned Ashley, Rhett raised his head and looked in the direction of fighting sisters who were sitting at the table. He was watching them, much to Scarlett's pleasure.

"You are lying! You are looking for a new husband of yours! You are a liar!"

"My darling sister, a pet is a very poor liar. You are right that Ashley had proposed. Besides, I turned Ashley's marriage proposal down. I don't need another piece of luggage. Remember, yesterday you told me that I have too much things with me," Scarlett grinned, looking up at Suellen with dark green eyes, where there were no traces of anger – she masked them.

"You killed three husbands and now you want to kill Ashley," Suellen continued attacking her sister.

"Indeed, I killed Charles by making him get cold and die from pneumonia. Indeed, I took Frank from you and I shot him. Indeed, I caused Mathieu's heart attack. You know that I wanted to kill all of them. I love killing people. I took Frank from you with only intention to take his money and kill him. Satisfied?" Scarlett asked coldly and with sarcastic laugh. It was evident that Scarlett felt her upper hand in this conversation.

"No! You killed them! Three times a widow. It is a shame! You are a black widow and a divorced woman!" Suellen made a new attack and stared at Scarlett in the anticipation of rage outburst, but Scarlett was still calm and cold.

Scarlett's polite indifference and nonchalance were driving Suellen mad, to the borders of her own sanity, and she was not far from losing self-control. Rhett's mind was fully concentrated on this conversation as Suellen mentioned an interesting for him fact of his former wife's personal life – being a widow again and rejecting Ashley's proposal. He was a little absent-minded because it came as a complete surprise for him. It appeared that Scarlett's last husband died recently and she also turned down Ashley's marriage proposal, which took Rhett's breath away from him for a moment.

Suellen turned her head to Scarlett, amazement struggling with anger in her face: "You are crazy! You are so dreadful and so violent. You are a snake. You have become a widow three times!

"Even if I am dreadful and violent, it is not your deal," Scarlett only answered with impassive, infuriating calm. "What else do you want to say?"

"You are a widow and a divorced woman! You are shameless!" Suellen exploded.

Scarlett nodded. "Yes, I am."

"You have married so many men! You are either shameless or mad." Sullen smiled with her poisonous smile. "I think you are both – mad and shameless."

Scarlett looked absolutely innocently. "Don't you see, Suellen? I had been needling those poor fellows whom I married. And they needed me. It was perfect." She mocked her, but Suellen didn't see it.

"But you don't have Ashley!"

Scarlett leapt from her chair. "And if I wanted to have Ashley, I would have him. Don't doubt. But I neither need nor want him."

Scarlett approached the table and took a new bottle of fine French wine. She opened it and poured another for her. "It is sweet Jurançon, perfect French wine from the South West of France."

Rhett turned his head to her and glanced at her. "Is is sweet or dry Jurançon?"

Scarlett smiled ambiguously. "It is sweet Jurançon. I like it more than dry Jurançon because sweet wine is golden wine with exotic fruits and honey aromas. I like how these exotic fruits taste when you drink wine."

"Oh, Madame," Rhett smirked. A wide smile touched his lips. "This is quite a rare wine as dry Jurançon accounts for nearly three fourths of the total wine production of Jurançon."

"Startling familiarity," Scarlett grinned. "You are right, Mr Butler. I won't be astonished if you, Mr Butler, had ever seen or even owned the vineyards somewhere in France."

"No, I never owned vineyards," Rhett said with a smile. "But I saw many vineyards in France, including those in the South West of the country. I even visited some of them."

"I guess, Mr Butler, you traveled everywhere between the Bordeaux region and the Pyrenees mountains, and hence you must know all the vineyards there," Scarlett sneered. "Suellen, do you want wine?"

Suellen looked away. "No, thank you very much, darling sister," she hissed.

Rhett ducked his head, hiding a smile. If she was going to talk about wines, then she will receive what she wants. "You are right, Madame Scarlett. I visited many parts of France, including the Midi-Pyrenees region, which is exactly what you had mentioned before," he paused and sipped his whiskey. "I saw and visited some vineyards there. I absolutely loved very attractive sweet wine Monbazillac. This is my favorite wine form the Midi-Pyrenees region. When you drink Monbazillac, it flows like gold in your throat. With age the color of wine intensifies and wine develops rich and intense characteristics."

"Are you a connoisseur of wines, Mr Butler?" Scarlett grinned and turned around. Then she laughed out. "You can have as much wine as you want, ladies and gentlemen."

"Thank you," Rhett answered. "No, I am not a connoisseur of wines, rather an amateur. And you?"

"I am definitely not a connoisseur. Are you sure that you are an amateur, Mr Butler? You know too many details." Scarlett sank back into her chair.

"I am almost certain," he replied.

"Ha!" Scarlett snapped. "The old sense of humor, Mr Butler? What a counterfeiter you are."

Rhett smiled genuinely. "My spirits have always been humorous, Madame."

Scarlett inhaled deeply. "The issue is that some Robillards own the vineyards in France, including those in the Midi-Pyrenees region. As a result, in the cellar of my Parisian mansion I have so many bottles of Jurançon, Monbazillac, Madiran, and Bergerac that Annabelle and I will be able to sell wine soon. I receive wines free-of-charge from the vineyards owned by the Robillards."

"Excellent," Rhett drawled lazily. Then his voice took a higher octave. "Absolutely marvelous!"

"Oh, for God's sake, please stop it!" Suellen cried out. "Scarlett, was your last husband obsessed with wines? You seem to be obsessed."

Scarlett glanced at Suellen. "No, Mathieu has never been a connoisseur of wines."

"Darling sister, you are shameless!" Suellen attacked. "I still cannot understand how you managed to marry that nobleman from France and to kill him in nearly a year after the marriage."

"Darling sister," Scarlett echoed. "Like day is changed by night, funerals are changed by new marital blessings. What else? Pray continue."

Scarlett was talking to Suellen with such an innocent smile that Rhett also smiled. Scarlett looked so beautiful when she was driving Suellen crazy and enjoyed it. Damn her, Rhett loved to watch fighting Scarlett and longed for their fights during the marriage in the last two years. It amused him. No other woman he knew could behave in such a bold-faced, bumptious manner.

"You are lusting for Ashley." Suellen shifted her attention to the initial topic – Ashley. "You are chasing after him as you have no shame! Poor Ashley!"

"Ashley is poor, but in another sense. He is a dreamer. You know we were talking about literature and dreams with him. We also touched his Grand Tour in Europe and my own travelling activities. This man dreams about impossible, like you, Suellen. You are so much alike in this."

"He is dreaming? Which dreams do you mean, Scarlett? Why are we alike? You are drunk, aren't you?"

Scarlett's lips thinned. "Well, Ashley Wilkes likes literature, and he dreams about the pre-war times," she paused momentarily. Disguised anger underlay the irony in her voice. "Ashley is a dreamer."

Muffled chocking cough followed from Suellen. "What?"

Scarlett looked at Suellen with such aloofness that she staggered back from Scarlett. "Many of his dreams Ashley is getting from the books. He is dreaming about what cannot happen. He lives in the clouds, like you." Then she burst out into violent laugh.

"I am here, at Tara. Not in the clouds," Suellen claimed in her own absolute truth.

Apparently, Suellen had no understanding of the allegoric meaning of Scarlett's words and figurative language in general. Rhett was truly enjoying watching the quarrelsome affair the sisters were having in the testimony of his former wife's abilities to prove her point of view and defend it without bursting into scandal.

"You are in the clouds because you dream about what you won't ever have. I mean favoritism of others in relation to you, wealth, and general pubic adoration. As for Ashley, you are saying that I am chasing after Ashley. I am not doing it. Thus, you only dream for me lusting for Ashley. It is not reality, just your dream. So you a dreamer, Suellen."

"You are talking nonsense! You are fool! You are a silly goose," Suellen said only to be interrupted by Scarlett.

"You dream and you are in the clouds. Ashley dreams and is also in the clouds. I love my current life, and I don't want to live in the pre-war time. Hence, I am on the land. So, you are together with Ashley in the clouds, very far from me."

"You are a shameless person!"

"I have already heard this from you, Sue."

Suellen seemed to be impossible to stop. "My dear sister, you disgraced our family with divorce!"

"Yes, I did. I agree. Suellen, my darling, tell me, you envy me, don't you? My life is so scandalous and full of fun, while you live in boredom. Answer honestly," Scarlett was taunting at her sister.

"Nonsense! How did each of your husbands tolerate you? You don't have love after they died," Suellen exclaimed.

"To have love is not necessary to have a husband," Scarlett fenced at her sister.

Scarlett's tone conveyed such an immense amount of skepticism that Suellen nearly sank under its own weight. "You are cynical! All what is associated with your name is a dreadful scandal, much shame, and complete dishonor of the O'Hara family."

"Indeed, I am a black apple in the crop. But I am only a blackguard who sees things as they are, not as they should be. I told you I am on the land. I also saved your life during the war because only because of me you had a roof and meal, even not luxurious," Scarlett answered firmly and smiled in her usual cold manner. Rhett noticed that the smile touched only her lips, while the muscles of her face didn't even shiver. Scarlett became a master of emotional self-control, at least in some cases, as Rhett decided.

"Sue, you are dancing around the flames. Please tell me exactly what you want to tell me or need from me," another ear-splitting laugh followed from Scarlett, who stood up and went in the direction of the small table in the corner of the living room to pour a new glass of wine.

"Darling, you have done such bad things to all of us! You are a snake! You are a liar! You are the worst in the O'Hara family and I feel shame when people ask me about you or your former husbands. You should be not admitted to proper society, but it is true that you are accepted nowhere in Atlanta," Suellen exploded.

"I am sorry for interruption. Did you feel shame when you let me stay at Tara for Mammy's sake? I am Scarlett's former husband, as you probably know," Rhett asked with curiosity and started laughing low in his throat. He lit his cigar and stretched his long legs ahead.

"Nowhere in Atlanta? Perhaps, but with my current name, title, and support from the Robillard house I am accepted everywhere in Europe. By the way, I usually attend lots of charity events and balls, together with Annabelle."

"Annabelle is like you in this case. You must be alike. I don't care where you are accepted. Mr Butler… Rhett… it was not about you, but about my sister's actions…" Suellen paused in confusion.

Rhett stared at her with his watchful, all-pervading gaze. "Pray continue," he requested.

"Scarlett disgraced our family because her behavior made you file for divorce and get it," Suellen said and forced a taunting smile.

Scarlett tightened her teeth, but the expression of her face didn't change. "Of course, you don't care where I am accepted. You are just envious, my darling sister." Rhett admired her for such a manner of fighting.

"You are a lowdown woman, a woman of low quality! All that you got you deserved. You lost three husbands and one daughter! It is a sorrow for your two new, still living daughters to have such a bad mother. You are a whore!" Suellen screamed. "A whore!" She completely lost her self-control.

Scarlett stood up from her seat and approached Suellen. She slapped her across her face and said in the same manner, with blandness and nonchalance: "Don't ever mention Bonnie and my daughters! I loved Bonnie and I love my two daughters who are still living, as you referred to them. To your great displeasure, they will live and won't die, which you, probably, wish to me and them. As for a whore, pray tell me who told you that I have lots of lovers and bastards? You should better think before you say something with your poisonous tongue that I will rip out of your damned mouth if I hear something like this from you again."

Rhett also stood up and approached Suellen. He was in rage. "Suellen, I join Scarlett. Don't ever touch Bonnie. You never lost your precious child, and I hope you will never know what it is like. Shut up, Suellen. Otherwise I will forget my manners."

"Suellen, stop it! Shut up! I said shut up! Immediately apologize," Will commanded to his wife.

Will went downstairs when he heard Suellen's cries. Will approached her, took her for her shoulders and started to shake her. He made her stand up, started to drag her to the exit door of the living room.

Scarlett turned her gaze to Will. "Will, it is not necessary. Don't worry. I don't give a damn. Can you please stay with us now? I have a deal to you. Suellen, please, leave. Get out!" Scarlett said imperatively.

Suellen realized that she said too much. "I am... I am sorry… I am sorry, Scarlett and Rhett…" she mumbled under her breath. She blushed and stormed out of the room.

"I am sorry, Scarlett and Rhett. I think she just had too much wine today," Will apologized sincerely.

"Don't worry. Will. Let's forget this incident," Rhett answered.

"Will, when I was in Atlanta, I opened two bank accounts at the National Bank of Atlanta on behalf of you and Suellen. On your account I deposited money for Tara and the renovation of the house, on Suellen's – for your children. You don't need to thank me for or fill obliged to me," Scarlett addressed to Will.

"I remember what you told me before. But Scarlett…" Will started, but stumbled with words.

"I want our home, Tara, to be prosperous. I also want you and Suellen to have certainty in the future. You have four small girls and one day can have more. I want you to feel safe. Take two these bank account agreements. If you have any questions, you can contact Henry Hamilton in Atlanta," Scarlett said.

Will was looking through the bank account agreements Scarlett gave him. He was stunned. "But Scarlett… You are giving us too much…"

"Scarlett shook her head in disagreement. "I daresay I am giving you a normal amount of money."

"Don't you need money for yourself?" Will inquired. "You also can have more children one day if you marry again. Thank you very much."

"Will, I have more than enough money. Especially now when I hold almost everything in cash or gold. Also, I don't have the plans to live in the States. So you need certainty for tomorrow. I am giving it to you. I also plan to negotiate the terms of sale to me Carreen's share of Tara. I will transfer the ownership to you or Suellen," Scarlett answered.

Will cleared his throat. "Thank you, Scarlett," he said gratefully and brightly.

"You are welcome, Will."

"Maybe, it will be better if you use them this money on behalf of your children. Scarlett, I feel uncomfortable," Will mumbled.

"It is highly unlikely I will ever have four children, like you and Suellen. Also I have enough money. Please don't worry. Also, please, tell Suellen that I offer her a truce for Mammy's sake. I am fed up with the war," Scarlett said.

Scarlett was glad that she had a chance to underscore that she was unlikely to have more children and that Rhett could hear this. She wanted to remind him about her fall from the staircase. It was like a sort of little revenge to him for her humiliations. Rhett didn't change the expression on his face, but he stared at her with such intense gaze that she stood up from the chair and relocated to the sofa in the corner of the living room. It was clear that he got her point.

"Scarlett, thank you very much. I will never be able to repay you off for your attitude to us. I am very sorry for Suellen again. I am going to retire," Will said, standing at the doorway. "Goodnight, Scarlett and Rhett."

"Goodnight, Will," Rhett said.

Scarlett's mouth thinned. "You don't need to repay. I am also retiring now. I am tired. Goodnight," she said. She turned on her heel and left. Behind her she could hear Rhett's mocking laugh and farewell words.

"Goodnight, Madame."

Rhett remained alone in a huge living room of the O'Hara family house with his thoughts. Never could he imagine that Scarlett, who was known to be so greedy, could be so generous with her sister Suellen who obviously hated her. Rhett was also curious about how the relations between Ashley and Scarlett had progressed since Melanie's death. Now he was sure that Scarlett had no interest in Ashley. The comment about children was not unnoticed and he remembered her fall from the staircase and miscarriage, mainly his own fault. He guessed whether it was connected with her children from the last marriage. He had a feeling of deep regret and even envy to her last husband that she gave him two daughters, as he realized from what Suellen said. His blue-eyed angel, Bonnie, died, and Scarlett gave daughters to another man, which made Rhett regret about his past treatment of Scarlett when she declared her love for him. However, Rhett still wasn't ready to risk his heart again for another child. Rhett also wondered what kind of relations existed between Annabelle de Robillard and Scarlett. These two ladies seemed very close to each other and he saw them in Atlanta laughing at the Old Guard. They seemed to be very similar in their demeanor, and he sympathized to them.

Having left the living room, Scarlett rushed upstairs. She shook her head to clear it further as she opened the door of her bedroom. The mask of polite indifference slipped away from her pretty, but tired face, her mouth turned to be set in hard lines, and controlled smoothness of her motions was gone. Scarlett took a deep breath and collapsed on the bed. She felt fear and anger tonight, again in relation to her sister Suellen. Fear of what, she asked herself honestly. And the answer was blinding in its naked truth - she was afraid of completely losing Suellen, despite her dreadful hatred to Scarlett. She was her sister, even if she hated and despised her. At another side, there was a weak, dying old woman, her dear Mammy. Was she indeed dying? Could Scarlett save her? She knew that it was unlikely because Mammy was weak due to her old age.

All the pain and guilt, repressed for a long long, swept up to engulf Scarlett's heart and soul. Scarlett covered her face by her elegantly-gloved hands. Soon behind the shelter of these hands, her face was wet. She was crying silently, without moans, heavy sighs, and lamentations. She knew that she had to stop this crying and made up her mind how to shock herself out of her self-enclosed misery and into action. With a quick, nearly violent motion, she awkwardly climbed out of the bed and lurched to her feet and flung to open the window. The cold November air shocked and strengthened her senses, helping her to get herself under rigid self-control. She slowly closed the window and went back to the bed. For the second time she collapsed on the bed. For long time she was staring into the ceiling with vacant eyes, her mind filled with dying flames from the past.

The most painful sensation was that Scarlett felt the last bond to her childhood and to her family slipping away from her, and the thought was deadly terrifying. All of a sudden, it became perfectly plain that she wanted to keep some bonds to her childhood, if not to Mammy, but at least to Suellen. Was it possible to reconcile with Sullen? Can they establish a truce when her sister hated her from the bottom of her heart? Can Sullen stop hating her? Was it possible to make and keep Suellen as a bond to happy childhood? Could they simply forgive each other? Scarlett didn't have answers.

As Scarlett thought of Suellen, she felt great pain, and her heart arched and swelled with despair. In this despair, she felt a wild impulse to leave the room and run fast and far down the lovely, tempting, fenceless road near the house and see her red earth of Tara, but it was stupid and against all the rules. So that she calmed down and subdued to the circumstances and rationality. Suellen was as scornful and hateful as she always was to Scarlett. Their recent small clash happened as though the swords flashed in a brief salute and engaged with a scrape of steel on steel. The worst was that their swords may flash over and over again, and the next conflict may be more difficult to tolerate. She needed patience. She knew that so far she should no more look for abilities and powers of conversation in Suellen's mind and demeanor than for the imagery of a poet in the brain of a mathematician. So far the distance between the sisters was too long, and it seemed that no bridge could have been built to join them.

At the same time there was Rhett Butler whom she left alone in the living room. Scarlett closed her eyes and remembered how it had felt when he held her in his arms. The blissful sense of comfort and security she had felt returned to overwhelm her again. She summoned up the pleasure she had always felt in his rare, careless caress during their disastrous marriage. Slowly, memories and feelings she never dreamed of returning, like sensitive flowers, began to gently blossom. In the meantime, she didn't want to bath in these feelings because she concluded that it had been better to forget about this man. She didn't need shallow, dangerous relations of shaky nature with him.

Lying on the bed, still dressed and mentally exhausted, Scarlett abruptly realized that the fire was out and now she was freezing cold. She rose to her feet from the bed with an effort and headed to the small dressing room. With stiff fingers Scarlett undressed and threw her dress on the nearby chair. She was lucky that she wasn't wearing a corset today because otherwise she wouldn't be able to undress without the maid. Scarlett put off her black gloves. The dress and gloves were followed by the chemise, the drawers, the slip, the petticoat, the underskirt, and the camisole. Then Scarlett put on a black silky nightgown and wrapped herself in the French black velvet robe. Then she went back to the bedchamber to the bed and crawled into a cold bed in her robe. A dangerous thought popped into her mind - it would be nice to have someone there to warm her up, she mused. And immediately, she compelled herself to stop and began to remember all the misery she had thanks to Rhett. Taking a deep, painful breath, she moved her body and covered herself by the satin sheets. The last memory died away, and Scarlett came back from the mysterious and exalted world to sleepy reality, fatigue gradually overcoming her. Finally sleep claimed her, but the night was restless.

Scarlett didn't see Rhett and Suellen until lunch the following day. Suellen was pale and coldly polite, making considerable efforts to suppress her hatred and anger at Scarlett. Rhett behaved as a watchful stranger. Scarlett was even happy that she was again met by an unyielding front of icy formality from his side. By the time lunch was over, Suellen was nearly in badly disguised rage; Rhett continued to be a cold stranger; Will was nervous and worried, tearing around the enemies. The only positive moment was when Suellen apologized for the recent scandal she produced in the O'Hara household. At least her sister was capable of apologizing, Scarlett thought.

During the next days, Rhett kept a close eye on his former wife, but never was the first to begin a conversation and didn't seek for any comfortable moments to stay alone with her. Rhett was stricken that Scarlett was a widow again, as he realized from what Suellen's earlier speech. What pleased his heart heavenly was the fact that Scarlett turned Ashley's marriage proposal down. He believed her and didn't have any doubts that she said the truth. So calm and indifferent was her tone and her eyes when she was talking about Ashley that Rhett inadvertently remembered the fire and passion in these cat-like eyes which he often observed throughout their marriage when she was talking of her love for wooden-headed white knight Ashley. He could never dream of such aloofness from Scarlett to Ashley before.

"Maybe, Scarlett didn't lie two years ago when she told me that she loved me and not Ashley. Perhaps, I was wrong in my conclusions. But she is so indifferent. Is it because of the death of her husband? Damn her! Damn her aloofness and calm indifference! What game is she playing?" Rhett's brain worked.

Rhett tried to guess why she carried on that cursed estrangement, which should be excessively burdensome. Rhett felt that something had to change in their relations. Given that Mammy was dying, he supposed that this event may cause shifts in Scarlett's behavior and their relations. Mammy was indeed fading away day by day, much to Scarlett and Rhett's grief.

He presupposed that she could have changed dramatically, resulting in the perfect reversion of her character with ultimate disappearance of emotionality. From his own experience, Rhett knew that non-emotionality and nonchalance generally stem from undergoing ultra-horrible and excessively burdensome sorrow and pain and may become a natural part of a person's character in case of the chronic inability to adjust to these hardships. However, Scarlett was not known to be weak, but, on the contrary, headstrong and will-powered. Rhett wondered whether Scarlett had meekened her Irish short-temperance and became so skillful in emotional self-control.

Rhett's brain concluded that Scarlett's passion and boiling emotions were still alive inside the pretty little head of hers. For whatever reason, she masked them and estranged from her folks. He asked himself why she could do it and what she was thinking when she was staying alone with Mammy or in her bedroom. Unfortunately, nothing helped him to find answers, and Rhett felt like he stepped on the land of confusion as he no longer considered his former wife transparent and predictable.

Truth to be said, Rhett was displeased with her coldness and indifference, as well as with his progress on watching Scarlett. His ever-saint oath to forget her continued its flying away.

Scarlett's time at Tara was typical: it was all about Mammy. Scarlett continued staying with the old woman all her free time. Now they were rarely talking, even about the old days and Scarlett's mother Ellen. Mammy was so weak that at times her whisperings were no more than disjointed words and phrases, which Scarlett didn't understand. Now she had to force-feed Mammy from her bare hands on a daily basis, which filled her heart with sweet tenderness and bitter aches. Mammy's health was worsening day by day, and Doctor Fontaine said that he could nothing to save her. Mammy was very old, and only Heaven knew how much time the old woman had ahead.

Scarlett tried not to focus on Rhett, but she could not ignore that fact that he was watching her intentionally. She didn't talk much to him, and they have never had a conversation in private. She continued her line of affectionate courtesy, coldness, and luxury indifference to the outside world, which proved to be her most effective strategy to stay ahead in the society of damned selfish fools, as she called them. It proved out to be the best strategy to protect herself from the cruelty of the outside world, and now she even began to understand the reasons why Rhett had been playing a game of a polite stranger for so many years. He was protecting from her, and now she was protecting from him.

"Rhett is bedding whores and cares about nobody, apart from money. He thinks that everything can be bought and that he always gets what he wants. I want him to know that it is not so. Not always at least," Scarlett's train of thoughts was moving rapidly.

Despite her intention not to focus on Rhett, nevertheless Scarlett's mind often traveled back to what Annabelle had said to her - to think more about Rhett. She knew that he would come to Tara and she guessed correctly. In fact, Scarlett wanted to tell Rhett the truth, but how difficult it was to be in her own cobweb of lies, even if it was justifiable lies. What she knew for sure was that she could not admit Rhett to know the truth before he confessed that he still loved her and cared for her and, most importantly, prove it with actions. On the other side, Scarlett still felt intimidated and wanted to take sweet revenge on Rhett for all her pain and his treatment of her like a whore, for his leaving and running away from her.

"Now it is not time to tell him the truth," Scarlett mused. "It is too early. I cannot do it now. Probably, I will never do it."

Scarlett suspected that Rhett was puzzled with her impersonal, indifferent behavior and smiled in her mind. She often caught Rhett's watchful gaze on herself, and each time it happened she was laughing at him in her mind. But it was a bitter laugh, rather than a happy, cheerful laugh. In reality she wanted him to look at her, to talk to her, to smile at her, and probably even to lessen their physical estrangement. Feeling vulnerable in a way she had not thought possible when she was in Europe, she wondered whether she could trust her own instincts. And her instinct told her that she had to be estranged from her former husband in order to protect herself from possible hurt.

However, she wanted to see him, and she dithered, torn between trusting her inner and not. In the end, mistrust won, and a game of polite indifference and courtesy continued. She wanted him to be far from her because every day he remained close to her increased the chance that she would throw caution to the winds and break down and tell him everything, all the truth. Such thoughts that at times overcame her shocked her most of all. It would be fatal to tell Rhett the truth, Scarlett mused, as she could never give a weapon against her to him, to trust him with the truth.

"God's nightgown, you, Rhett, used to make the spectacle of yourself in a game of a polite, indifferent strange. You mocked, teased, and jeered, tremendously enjoying yourself. You thought that only you can be playing a game of a stranger. It was your mistake. I am leaving you with five hundred possible answers to my puzzle. Try to know the truth. You are a fool, Rhett."

Rhett often looked at her, often giving a sideway glances to her. At times under Rhett's cat-at-a-mouse-hole gaze Scarlett felt as though she had ached everywhere. Nothing had ever felt this way. Nothing. It happened only as he stared at her with that gaze. At those moments she wanted him to touch her everywhere. Most of all, she ached and yearned for him to touch her. As such thoughts overcame her mind, she quickly reminded herself that he had divorced and abandoned and disgraced her - her temper boiled and venom raised in her heart and dissolved in her bloodstream. In all of these moments, it took her a lot of strength and will power to look indifferent.

Scarlett was calm because she received a telegram from Annabelle that they had successfully boarded the ship in Charleston. She estimated that they would arrive in London in approximately ten days and then in France in three days after they leave London for Paris. She was praying Annabelle and the children's journey to be safe and comfortable. Annabelle was such a loyal and such a good friend that Scarlett trusted her daughters to her without a shadow of doubt. She knew that Annabelle would take excellent care of her daughters Blanche and Isabelle and Mathieu's son Charles.

Scarlett terribly missed her dear daughters Blanche and Isabelle. She thanked Heaven for her decision to send the children back to France with Annabelle as her intuition was correct: when she got back to Tara, Rhett had already arrived. There must be no talking about Scarlett's children in front of Rhett in any case, she thought. No conversation about the children was presupposed to happen between former spouses. Will and Suellen were loyal to Scarlett in this aspect. Even Suellen was keeping silent.

At times, Scarlett was thinking about Suellen. She preferred to ignore Suellen's behavior, although she wasn't pleased with being so hated by her own sister. However, Suellen's hateful behavior was not on agenda now because Mammy and her health were much more important. Scarlett made everything possible to forget the recent clash with Suellen when she slapped her across the face and then wept in her bed till fatigue overcame her. She won't lumber her mind with trifles, she said to herself.

Scarlett and Rhett's physical and emotional estrangement was very strong, probably strong to their mutual astonishment. Their polite indifference or bland nonchalance was very naturally mounted into their behavior and human treatment. Their mutual indifference-courtesy game ultimately was a duel between two strong-willed people, a duel between their real wishes and actual behavior, conscience and subconscious mind.

Day by day, things became even tenser. Rhett ceased to make even a pretense of escorting Scarlett in Mammy's room, which seemed to be quite normal for former spouses. When she was with Mammy, she was always without him in the room: she didn't know where Rhett spent his time. When Scarlett left Mammy's room and retired to her bedroom, her listening ear often heard Rhett come to see Mammy, which was possible at all hours of the morning, either early or late. It was as though a sheet of ice had sprung up between Rhett and Scarlett, so that each could see the other's movements, but nevertheless could treat each other only as strangers. Their attitude to each other was polite and indifferent.

Scarlett was behaving in the same manner day after day, and nothing changed in her manner to hold herself in the public, much to Rhett's utter confusion. By the end of Rhett's first week at Tara, Rhett, who decided to stay with Mammy up to her death, came to conclusion that Scarlett fenced her off the outside world by thick wall of estrangement and removal, which, according to Rhett's own experience, had more sophisticated nature than wearing a mask of simple calm, polite indifference.

Time went slowly and nothing seemed to change. Scarlett continued her line of aloofness to Rhett and didn't talk to him. The only time when they saw each other were dinners, lunches, or breakfasts. At times, when she was in Mammy's room and Rhett came to Mammy, they could spend several hours just watching Mammy, but nothing happened. Either nobody began the conversation or they were talking about Mammy and her health.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

**At Tara: an indifference-courtesy game and Mammy's death**

One day, Suellen and Will, together with the children, retired early, immediately after the dinner. After the scandal with Suellen Will purposefully didn't leave her alone with Scarlett, and all the conversations happened in his presence. Rhett and Scarlett were left alone for the first time after Scarlett's arrival in Tara. Scarlett was drinking her favorite French wine and was lost in her thoughts about children. Mentally, she was in the ship to France, not at Tara. Rhett was drinking whiskey and watching Scarlett. The tension in the room was rising gradually, and somebody had to start the conversation.

"All your money is in cash or gold? I hope, not in a French bank? Why aren't you investing in any kind of business?" Rhett Butler asked after a prolonged silence in the room.

"Mr Butler, my reasoning behind the decision to have cash is quite simple. The situation in France has been relatively unstable since 1871 when the Democrats announced the downfall of the last Bonapartist regime and _the Third Republic_ _of France_ was proclaimed. However, lots of new governments came into action in the period from 1871 to 1873," Scarlett began to explain and paused.

"Pray continue, please. I am genuinely interested", Rhett said to encourage her to speak, and thoughtfulness splashed across his face.

"Finally, in the late 1873, two years ago, the Monarchists replaced an absolute monarchy by a parliamentary one. However, although two years passed, France still doesn't have the necessary Parliamentary Acts that will establish the organic or constitutional laws of the new republic. Ironically, many of old laws are outdated, while some of them were cancelled," Scarlett paused to keep her breath and pulse steady, looking at Rhett who seemed to be indeed interested in their new topic.

"And France has loopholes in regulations. Indeed, it doesn't encourage business activity. Besides, the old taxation system needs to be modified. This is disastrous for everybody because it creates uncertainty. In addition, public opinion is also swinging heavily either to republic or monarchy," Rhett added and gripped the palm of his left hand by the right one.

"You are right. This instability imposes the necessity to follow cautious approach to investments. We don't know what will happen with the Third Republic tomorrow. Maybe, it will be deceased, and we lose all wealth under the new government. So I have most of my money in cash or gold," she said.

"I support your conclusion. France may have the new President or the Prime Minister who is one of the Opportunist Republicans, and if it happens, new rules and regulations may be enacted. Where do you keep your money?" Rhett added.

"All my money is in England in pure gold, mainly at the Manchester & Liverpool District Banking Company and the National Provincial Bank. I also have some money in the United States, mainly at the Bank of Savannah and some in the Atlanta National Bank. Some still in cash."

"Madame, accept my warm congratulations with both of your choices. It was pretty smart from your side to choose these banks in England. I also use their services. They are the safest. But why at the Bank of Savannah?"

"I am happy to know this, Mr Butler. I am dealing with the Bank of Savannah because my grandfather Pierre Robillard held his money there. He passed away two years ago. I was his legitimate heiress and didn't change the bank. Anyway, I need to have some savings in the United States," Scarlett answered and stared at him with challenge.

She left her chair and went to the table near the window to pour her another glass of wine. She asked Rhett: "Wine or Whiskey, Mr Butler?"

"Whiskey, please, if it is convenient. You can call me by my first name," Rhett resumed smiling. His face seemed to be very relaxed with soft lineaments.

"Take it please." Scarlett gave to Rhett his full glass of whiskey.

"Thank you very much, Scarlett. I am sorry for your grandfather and congratulations on being his heiress. May I call you Scarlett? So, Scarlett, where will you invest in the coming years?"

"Yes, you can call me Scarlett. I consider the shipment business because the Democrats seem to be highly supportive of the idea to integrate the colonies into the economic system of continental France. In this case, the export to colonies is likely to more than double in the next ten years. Shipment services will be of a great demand, and the first industry to prosper," Scarlett concluded her reasoning.

"Well done! I have always been fond of your commercial talent. You are a shrewd woman, Madame… Sorry…" Rhett grinned at Scarlett. He tried to mock her in order to have a look on her reaction, but failed. Scarlett's self-control didn't allow her to change the though-out behavioral strategy.

"Sir, my full name is _Catherine_ _Scarlett Athénaïs de Robillard de Bréveaux, Marquise de Bréval,_" Scarlett jeered at Rhett. No, she wasn't going to make it easy for him to approach her. Once she let the love for him capture her heart, and this feeling multiplied her sensations of pain, loneliness, and disappointment by every single thought, becoming threefold through aspiration for the uncertain future and memory of the past. No, Rhett Butler won't intrude to the exquisite delights of her soul ad heart, making her vulnerable. At least this won't happen now. He will never subdue her to him. "You can you call me either Madame de Bréval or Madame de Robillard."

He smiled at her with dry, dark irony."This is such a long, yet charming name. I will use Madame de Bréval."

"I don't mind."

"Sorry, for the question but what is _de Bréveaux? _I thought that there are only the Robillards."

"Mr Butler, the Robillards have three sub-families, say, branches, each holding different title, although they descended from the same roots. _Bréveaux_is a title name of the eldest male among the Robillards – _Count de Bréveaux."_

"Thank you for the explanation. I am sorry, your husband died, didn't he? My condolences to you, Madam de Bréval," Rhett said in a half-mocking tone and looked at her in anticipation. He wanted her desperately to give up and show a piece of emotion, at least something from old Scarlett.

Scarlett smiled cryptically. "Thank you, sir. I am deeply touched, believe me."

"I don't believe you. Madame de Bréval, pray tell me how did your husband let you have so cool unladylike business reasoning?"

"My husband is dead, sir. I kindly ask you to respect his memory and not to ask inappropriate questions in your discourteous manner. My husband was the pattern of honor and responsibility. I require from you the respect for him and his memory."

"I am sorry, Madame. I didn't mean to offend you or discriminate your husband."

Scarlett raised her chin. "No, it isn't so. You wanted to mock me. As usual, you disregarded my feelings on or without purpose and depreciated the name of another honorable man, my husband. However, your apologies are accepted."

"Thank you, Madame. It is so nice to hear that you are not offended," he grinned.

Scarlet felt she had to change the topic. "Mr Butler, you will also invest in shipments, won't you?"

"Yes, I will. However, I will also consider agriculture as my second priority for investments." Rhett's mind was whirling in multitude of questions because he didn't expect Scarlett to defend her late husband so fiercely and sincerely. It was evident that she had respected him at the highest level, and Rhett knew very few people whom Scarlett truly respected. Did she love her late husband? What did she feel when he died? What is she feeling now to him?

"Sir, if I were in your shoes, I would rather choose industrial machinery and also look more carefully on legal services. Given modernization in the colonies, shipments of machinery from the continent will also increase dramatically. You can also outsource a part of production in the colonies to benefit from lower production costs. Besides, legal services are worth consideration."

"Brilliant, Madam de Bréval! But if political environment doesn't stabilize, the demand for legal services will probably not grow significantly," Rhett parried as he hit her from another angle.

"Legal services are a pot of gold because capital and work force will flow into the new territories and because of the necessity of their legal protection," Scarlett challenged Rhett with clear boldness, but still in the manner of calm, polite indifference.

"I agree. Wait for the Opportunist Republicans' actions. If they win, the colonial policy may reverse. Better see and wait, which women usually don't do."

"It beats the Dutch, sir! Don't try to challenge me to watch my reaction. Don't waste your time."

"I have always been fascinated by you, Scarlett, for not having shame and go-get approach. It seems to me that it hasn't changed. Rather like your male business acumen. Congratulations again."

"Thank you, sir. Your business acumen has never been doubtful either," she scoffed. Now she was closer to the role of the cat as Rhett undoubtedly was puzzled with her behavior. This business conversation was flowing gradually to more personal topics.

"I was ready to stand up to applause you when you were mocking at Suellen. It seems to me that I gave you a good lesson of game in strangers, mocking-teasing game and polite indifference game," Rhett smiled in the same unemotional manner of excessive sweet politeness.

Scarlett looked at him and her eyes registered the same old cat-at-a-mouse-hole gaze. Suddenly, she felt angry. "Sir, don't ascribe to yourself what is not related to you. Get facts first, and then make conclusions."

"I get the facts first and merely verbalize them, Madame de Bréval."

"Oh my Lord! Men take only their needs for their self-esteem into consideration and never their abilities," Scarlett depicted an overdramatic reaction and lifted her brows.

"Madam, your tongue is excessively sharp. When did that respectable husband of yours die?"

"It happened around a year ago. If my tongue was sharp, I would be unable to swallow food, sir," Scarlett sneered waspishly at Rhett.

"You are only drinking. So it is possibly true? As for me, I had perfect dinner and may have one more."

Scarlett gave an ambiguous smile to him. "Mr Butler… Rhett, as I said yesterday, I am always drinking this sort of wine, my favorite Jurançon from the South West of France."

"I remember, Madame."

Scarlett was going to grin at him again. "Glad to hear that your memory serves you well."

Rhett stared ahead at the wall. "Fortune favors the brave and first to go. Try something else from the wines produced in the north of France," he grinned in response.

"Touché, Monsieur," she purred.

"Touché, Madame," he echoed her.

A wide green appeared on her pretty face. "Who laughs and goes last, then laughs longest."

Rhett laughed outright, his eyes watching her intensively. "Touché, Madame," he repeated.

"I bet we finished in draw this damned game. I am very tired and will retire early. Have a good evening," Scarlett said coldly and leapt to her feet.

"Goodnight, Madame," Rhett answered.

Without any other word, Scarlett headed to the doorway. As she was about to leave, her sideways sight caught Rhett's gaze, again that old cat-at-a-mouse-hole gaze. Her eyes quickly left his face, and she turned her head back to him and and left the room, leaving a very frustrated and confused Rhett behind. He rose to his feet, extracted a black cigar from his cigar case, and lit the cigar. He needed to smoke to compose himself. He inhaled the smoke and felt as though some relief had come to his fatigued mind.

Rhett was deeply affected by the conversation. Although he didn't show that he was worried, always staying sweet, polite, mocking, and indifferent Rhett, deeply inside his brain was boiling. He arrived to conclusion that her extreme estrangement and removal from him and the others is difficult to understand for him and, undoubtedly, beyond understanding for others. Rhett no longer understood his wife, but he was determined to continue watching her. He had several answers to the main question – the reasons of her estrangement, but he needed to check them. His gut feeling told him that she was also affected a great deal by their conversation. What game was Scarlett playing? What happened in her personal life? What pushed her to learn the art of ambivalence and learn it quite good? Was it Rhett who caused a deep pain to her and made her to build a high fence for herself from the outside world?

"At least, I don't have to attend these stupid tea parties and charity events in Charleston, and Silvia is not here. I don't want a Charleston proper life. I am fed up with it," Rhett thought.

As Scarlett quickly left the living room and then slowly climbed upstairs to her bedroom in order to escape Rhett's watchful gaze, memories and thoughts about him flooded her head. She was struggling to pull them away from her, but all her attempts were in vain.

Scarlett rang the ball for Prissy to help her undress. As the maid unlaced her and the corset was gone, Scarlett felt easy to breathe. She inhaled and exhaled several times under the feeling of freedom. She took and put on her velvet wrapper in Arabesque style, ornamented with some natural fur on each of the wristbands and the collar. Scarlett laughed as Prissy asked several times in embarrassment where she had found such unusual color of the wrapper.

Scarlett approached the chest of drawers and pulled one drawer to find the bottle of brandy hidden there. She opened the bottle and took one gulp, feeling as the burning liquid was streaming down her throat to her stomach. This sensation gave her some strength and confidence. She took another sip and swallowed hard. Then she closed the bottle and put it back to the drawer. She no longer depended on brandy as it had been earlier, before she left the States. However, today it was the first time in the past years she had such a long conversation with her former husband, and as a result she felt restless.

Scarlett stepped forward to the bed and cunningly climbed under creamy sating sheets. She stretched her body and considerably relaxed her tensed muscles along the bed. Now her mask of aloofness and courtesy was gone, and she was lying on her bed and thinking about her recent conversation with Rhett. She was sure that Rhett was truly interested in her personal life and made his hints on its personal aspects, which were hardly noticeable to everybody, but not to her. She was determined to stay aloof to him. Scarlett was irritated with the fact that Rhett tried to mock at her using Mathieu's name. What right did he have to disrespect her husband who saved her from disgrace while Rhett was God knows there? Did he want to unceremoniously tease her or was he genuinely interested in her life? Rhett was as unpredictable and dangerous as he had always been, and it was easier to talk to him about business than about something else.

"I feel in my bones that indifference-courtesy game will unfold even in more interesting, yet dangerous direction," Scarlett said to herself, complacently smiling in her mind. "Let's see who will be the first to give up. The ardor of your curiosity will make you give up, Rhett Butler."

During the whole night after the conversation with Rhett, Scarlett tossed and tossed over and over again in her bed. She didn't have nightmares, and no ghost was haunting her in her old bedroom at Tara, but she felt as though she were too tired to sleep. The night was still, but for Scarlett it was too still. She mused that this stillness was a kind of unusual, and it began to frighten her. A thought that the worst hadn't happened yet popped in her tired mind, and she felt that a huge lump started to form in her throat. She swallowed hard with effort and lifted her body from the bed, staring in the darkness. She leaned down and looked on her rumpled pillow, then forced herself to lie back on the bed. No, this night wasn't real as the silence was too deathlike and too ominous. The silence was unbearable for Scarlett, and it seemed as though nothing could save her. Her heart was pounding harder and harder in the anticipation of facing her fate in the next weeks. Maybe, something will happen in her relations with Rhett Butler? Maybe, Mammy will die? She didn't know. She didn't want her to die.

At Tara, Rhett Butler had much time to think about his life. Memories were occupying his thoughts. He remembered their first meeting a long time ago, his proposal on the day of Frank Kennedy's death, and their marriage ceremony. He remembered the birth of their precious daughter Bonnie, a small raven-haired, blue-eyed angel. He recalled how he was kicked out of the marital bedroom. His mind replayed what he had said to her on the day of Melanie's death and how he had left his old house on Peachtree Street. His brain reproduced how he had been drinking the whole night before Melanie's funeral near Bonnie's grave on Oakland Cemetery.

Rhett remembered his last night of passion with Scarlett. They had spent together in Charleston in his bedroom. He also recalled the text of the farewell letter that he had left especially for Scarlett. He was drowned in his turbulent thoughts, which tipped his mind back to one of the lines in his farewell letter to Scarlett: _"I am very sorry for my actions last night. It was only physical and nothing emotional between us, except for a simple man's desire for a pretty little girl, not a lady, because you were not a lady in its true sense._" He was virtually certain that these words were the most humiliating and undignified for Scarlett. When Rhett left the farewell letter in his bedroom on that night, his only intention was to run away and build a high fence from Scarlett. As usual, he wanted to protect himself from her. He doubted that she had ever searched for him after he had left her in Charleston. When he had run away, he knew that she wouldn't do it because of her pride, no matter what could happen in her life, whether she was in dark abyss or in a blue sky.

Deep inside, burning shame and self-disgust were eating Rhett's heart. These feelings had originated in his heart on the last day when he had his emotional harmony for the last time in his long, difficult life – the day when he had left Scarlett in Charleston after making love to her. It was the last time when his passion and his heart had belonged to Scarlett, the only woman he had ever loved. After he had left her on that night, there was no longer anything comforting, relaxing, and filling his soul with something sublime.

Never before and never after that night of passion, had Rhett felt in so peaceful and so tranquil! It was as though he had been blessed by the final arrival to what he had been searching throughout his whole life. It came as utter surprise even for his acquisitive mind. It was Scarlett who had brought Rhett those peace and tranquility. But it was Scarlett who had taken him away from that peace as she had fled the United States. Rhett had questioned and had challenged himself why he had felt so, but he was unable to guess the very true reason for his sensations related to that day. Perhaps, it was genuine love for Scarlett, which bonded them together as a couple and at the same time deprived them of any rights to feel those peace and tranquility, associated with the absolute truth and the sense of human existence.

Now, it seemed to be fate that pushed them to each other, Rhett mused. At least they had another chance to meet each other, and Rhett didn't know what to expect from Scarlett. However, he inferred that, most probably, he would see nonchalance and courtesy, compounded by ice facial mimic and unemotional, half dead gaze of her emerald eyes. He desperately wanted to break this wall of indifference and to look deeply to get to the bottom of her mind. The question was whether it was possible for Rhett.

In his mind, Rhett was again laughing at himself as he remembered his own oaths and promises to stay away from Scarlett, forget her. What was he doing here at Tara and why did he come here, if not only for Mammy? What was he hoping to achieve? Had he been wrong two years ago when he had divorced her? Did Scarlett indeed bring him shelter, tranquility and peace? Undoubtedly, Charleston and his upcoming marriage to Silvia Dawtson couldn't give him those feelings and sensations. Was Scarlett's love what Rhett had been searching throughout his adulthood as he had dreamed to be able to rise above vanity and caducity of the world in the glory of his supremacy and triumph? So far, Rhett didn't have the answers to these questions.

It was at Tara when Rhett started to make conclusions and progressed in his attempt to stop running away from himself. He also noticed that he no longer felt so dead and so numb. Something inside him changed, and his feelings for Scarlett started to evolve from hate and desire to stay away to his desire to see her, to take her in his arms, and to hug her, and even make love to her. Rhett decided that he had to talk to Scarlett soon. He wanted to have a heart-to-heart conversation with her, without any masquerade and pretensions.

While Rhett Butler was thinking about his life, Scarlett was always with Mammy, knowing that the old woman's last day was quickly approaching. Scarlett loved Mammy unconditionally, and, undoubtedly, and Mammy loved her. Mammy's health was deteriorating each day, and once old Doctor Fontaine said with sadness that they should be ready for her death in any moment in the nearest future. Watching Mammy in her oblivion, Scarlett heard that Mammy had been mumbling something unclear. At times she grumbled in her apparent oblivion and was calling Ellen Robillard O'Hara and Gerald O'Hara. She was also calling Scarlett and the children, and each time Scarlett head that she smiled dolefully. Mammy also mentioned several times Philippe Robillard. Sometimes, she leaned down carefully, very close to Mammy's dark, worn-out face, and strained her ears in order to comprehend her muttering. However, Scarlett wasn't particularly successful in that.

Once in the evening, when ever-weakening Mammy was lying on the bed, her eyes opened widely in her awakening moment and she managed to lift her large, formless dark body from the bed by herself at the expense of the hardest effort Scarlett has ever seen. Scarlett looked at her and wanted to ask what she needed, but Mammy outstripped her.

Mammy half opened her eyes. "My lamb… I saw Mister Rhett… I am glad he is here."

"Rhett arrived some time ago because Will sent a telegram to his address in Charleston about your illness."

"Miss Scarlett, have you told him the truth?" Mammy whispered.

"No Mammy… I cannot… I told you. This is impossible, at least now. I need to know that he loves me and wants both children and me. But eventually I will tell him", Scarlett was caught off balance by Mammy's question.

"Promise your old Mammy that you will be happy."

"Mammy, please you need to rest."

"Miss Ellen is calling for me… soon very soon… Promise me, please, my lamb."

"I promise you that I will be happy. I swear," Scarlett cried out, turning around to make sure that she was still alone in the room. Indeed, she was alone.

In the next two days, Mammy fell in a feverish restless oblivion. Her face accepted peaceful and blessed expression which suggested that death was nigh hand at hand to her. She no longer was able to open her eyes even for a minute, and she didn't accept meal from Scarlett's hands. Scarlett knew that Mammy would want the soft cool hand of Miss Ellen, her former mistress, or her, Scarlett's hand, to soothe her face and squeeze the big dark hands gently. Scarlett wanted her melodious voice to calm Mammy and help her, and hence she was talking to Mammy as if she was alive. She was talking about her childhood, about mother and father, about their late lunches. She remembered how Mammy grumbled each time when Scarlett climbed trees or was riding without a traditional for women side saddle. She was also talking about Bonnie and her two small daughters who should have been on their way to Europe now. When Scarlett pronounced her mother's name, Mammy opened her eyes.

"Miss Scarlett… I love you…" Mammy mumbled hoarsely.

"I love you too, Mammy," Scarlett whispered to her old nanny and kissed her forehead.

"Call him… here now."

"Whom, Mammy? You should rest."

"Call him here… Mister Rhett…"

There was nothing else for Scarlett to do, nothing but to offer Mammy some comfort and to call Rhett. She had to do it, even if she hadn't liked this idea. "Please, wait a little, Mammy. I am coming to get him," she answered lifelessly.

Scarlett realized that this was the end, but she was also afraid of what Mammy would say to Rhett. As she noiselessly opened the door and went to the corridor, she felt the world reeling about her ears. She clapped her hands to her head to steady her whirling thoughts. Her heart and mind felt empty. It took her some time to focus on her task – to get Rhett into Mammy's room. Scarlett knocked the door of Rhett's bedroom and told him that Mammy was calling him. Together, they went to Mammy's room.

"Mammy, Rhett is here. Look, my darling," Scarlett said tenderly.

"Mammy, I am here. Scarlett told me that you called for me. How are you feeling?" Rhett asked and took her right hand in his large one. Scarlett followed him and took Mammy's left hand in hers.

"I am going to Miss Ellen, Mister Gerald, and … Bonnie… Miss Melanie… and Mister Philippe…" Mammy whispered and looked at Rhett who was sitting on the right side of her bed, while Scarlett was on her usual place on the left side.

Scarlett held her breath. "Mammy, please don't worry. Don't talk now. You need your rest," she said.

"Mister Rhett… Take care of Miss Scarlett… She needs it. Promise me."

"Mammy, please…" Scarlett cut herself. She could not ask her not to talk. Not now.

"I will, Mammy. I promise. I swear," Rhett said, understanding that the end is not far.

"I will take care of Bonnie in Heaven… My lamb, tell him… He must know…" Mammy babbled.

"Oh, Mammy," Scarlett breathed. She was afraid at that moment.

"Mister Rhett … do you love my lamb?" Mammy said with such a great effort that Rhett's heart collapsed.

"Yes, I love her… Mammy… And I will take care of her," Rhett said Mammy. He said this to appease Mammy, but he knew that he most likely said truth.

Mammy half closed her eyes. "She loves you… I know…"

"Mammy, I love you… I love you so much," Scarlett squeezed her left hand and started to cry quietly.

"My lamb, remember your promise to me to be happy… Do this … for me and Bonnie."

"I swear I will, Mammy. I love you," Scarlett told Mammy.

"I love you too, Mammy," Rhett mumbled and half closed his eyes with unshed tears.

"I know, Mister Rhett." Mammy paused. "I love you, my lamb," she muttered.

"Mammy, I love you so much," Scarlett whispered. She bent her head and kissed Mammy on her forehead. "Mammy, you have always been with me. You have always been so loyal to me. You never deceived me. You always took good care of me."

"My lamb," Mammy muttered. "Miss Ellen… she… loved Mister Philippe…"

Rhett raised his brows. "Whom does she mean?"

"Philippe Robillard," Scarlett whispered into Rhett's ear. "Shhh, Rhett."

Rhett only shrugged. "Alright."

Scarlett stared at Mammy. "What, Mammy?"

"My lamb, Miss Ellen… did what…" Mammy whispered with more difficulty.

Scarlett squeezed Mammy's hand. She didn't understand Mammy because all she was talking about were only disjoint phrases and incoherent thoughts. "Mammy, what are you talking about?"

"You are my child… I love you, Miss Scarlett. And you Mister Rhett… too," she said even quilter.

"Mammy, I love you too," Rhett whispered.

"Be happy my lamb… I will take care of Miss Bonnie…" Mammy said.

Tears were streaming down her cheeks. "Mammy… Oh, Mammy…" Scarlett murmured.

Mammy half shut her eyes. "Miss Ellen… she… did… She…"

"Mammy…" Rhett whispered. His eyes locked with Mammy's orbs, and he felt few salty tears in the corners of his eyes.

"I love you, my lamb… I want to see Miss Ellen… Mister Gerald… he is… he is not…" Suddenly, Mammy trailed off. She was not able to finish what she wanted to say. Her eyes closed lifelessly.

Mammy was dead. She died peacefully in her bed, holding Scarlett and Rhett's hands simultaneously, which was very similar to blessing the couple for their future. On those last Mammy's words, Scarlett looked into Rhett's dark eyes. For just one second, she wished she was able to tumble into love over a pair of handsome coal eyes and a lovely set of shoulders, but she knew that she couldn't do it. She wished that she could ignore who she was and who he was and what he had done. But she couldn't.

Scarlett swallowed her sobs. "Mammy is dead."

"I know. May she rest in peace," Rhett said sorrowfully.

"Mammy was dreaming about my mother Ellen and my father Gerald. She even remembered Philippe Robillard whom my mother loved in her youth. Can you imagine, Rhett, how much Mammy loved my mother if she remembered even her love for Philippe at her deathbed?"

"I understand. Mammy loved wholeheartedly your mother and you."

Both Scarlett and Rhett interpreted Mammy's last words and disjointed phrases about Ellen Robillard O'Hara, Philippe Robillard, and Gerald O'Hara as Mammy's desire to join them in Heaven. They thought that Mammy had missed them terribly and had loved them dearly. But was it the only reason why Mammy remembered Philippe Robillard on her deathbed? Neither Scarlett nor Rhett even questioned that it was otherwise. Probably, it was their mistake. The future will show it.

Scarlett dropped her head to her chest. "Mammy wanted to be with my mother, and she remembered everything she treasured in this world. She also loved me and promised to take care of Bonnie…"

He shook his head sorrowfully in agreement. "Scarlett, she loved and adored you."

"Yes. And I loved her very much." Her voice quavered. She swallowed hard as a new tide of sobs assaulted her. Sobs would have been choking her if she hadn't swallowed them in her low throat. The dim light fell across her features, softening her face, until she might have been taken for a woman ten-fifteen years younger were it not for such a hard, tragic expression on her face and terrible, excruciating pain in her dark green eyes. "Oh, Rhett. Oh, Rhett."

"Come now, Scarlett." Rhett's voice was very soft. "Don't cry, darling. Mammy is with your mother Ellen and your father Gerald now, as she wished. She…" he paused, then went on. "She will take care of Bonnie… Mammy loved you more than herself. She would never like to see you crying hard."

She swallowed hard again. "Rhett…" she whispered into silence. She dropped her hands to her sides.

Rhett's hand appeared out of nowhere to cover hers. "Scarlett…" he murmured tenderly. "Mammy is resting in peace. Say goodbye to her."

"I have already done it." She didn't look at him. Her gaze was fixed at Mammy's lifeless face.

"But never goodbye, you and I," Rhett suddenly said. He didn't expect it from himself.

She was never sure, afterward, who kissed whom. One instance they were apart, his hand holding hers against his cheek, breaths mingling in the dank air, and in the next instance his mouth brushed her lips, gentle and tender. Rhett's other hand cupped the curve of her head like an infant's.

"Scarlett," he whispered. "Oh, Scarlett."

Her eyes again filled with tears, and she saw through a glittering mist Mammy's motionless body on the bed. "Don't say anything. Don't say a word. She is dead and close to us," she whispered.

"Oh, Scarlett…" He gathered her up and kissed her again, working her lips apart and tasting her, his mouth like silk and champagne and every forbidden thing. "Don't cry, darling…"

She couldn't hold back, not any longer, and she met him unstintingly. She spread her fingers across the sides of his tanned face, strained her body upward into his. She needed his kiss now when she felt so devastated, when she felt such strong pain stabbing her heart. Alive, she felt alive, she thought, and thrust her fingers up through the soft waves of jet-black hair at the back of his head.

Then suddenly she pulled back from him. She sent to him a hard, accusatory condescending gaze. "Let's go downstairs. We must go now. You should never have done it here."

"You felt devastated. I did what you needed – I eased your pain," Rhett spat. "I did what you wanted."

The green eyes flashed. Her beautiful face lit with rage. So it was only to easy her pain, she mused. What a hypocrite Rhett Butler was! "I don't give a bloody damn what you mean. You don't know what I want and what I need," she snapped frigidly.

Scarlett glanced at Mammy for a last time, her eyes turned sad. Her tears dried. Then she turned around and marched out of the room, slamming the door loudly behind herself.

The funeral was scheduled for the day after tomorrow, on November 14, 1875. Being the most hysteria-resilient lady in the O'Hara household, Scarlett was implicitly assumed to be responsible for the organization of the funeral. Rhett tried to help her as much as he could with it. He didn't talk to Scarlett much. A lot of people from the whole County were expected to come to give final death blessings to old Mammy who has been serving to the O'Hara house for more than thirty years. Mammy was supposed to be buried in Tara, next to Gerald O'Hara and Ellen O'Hara, her former mistress.

The gloomy, wet, bleak weather was quite in keeping with the funeral procession. A strong wind was howling and moaning through the small family cemetery of the O'Hara family. Supported by Will, Suellen was crying hysterically as she felt a great loss after Mammy's death. Her daughters were also crying and Scarlett tried to comfort them. All people from the local farms and plantations gave their condolences to Scarlett and Suellen. Beatrice Tarleton and her daughters, Sally Munroe, the Calverts, the old Doctor Fontaine and many others arrived for the funeral. Everybody was deeply upset about Mammy's death.

"Scarlett, Suellen, please accept my most sincere condolences for this unredeemable loss," Cathleen Calvert said sorrowfully.

"Mammy was a great woman. I couldn't omit paying my sincere tribute of grateful recollection to a woman from whom I have received the warmest kindness each time I visited you at Tara," Beatrice Tarleton said through tears, streaming down her lean face.

"Rest to Mammy's soul. Suellen and Scarlett, I am very sorry," the old Doctor Fontaine murmured.

"Heaven… let her rest in peace. She was so kind," Sally Munroe uttered.

"Thank you very much to everybody," Suellen mumbled and wiped her swollen eyes with her right hand.

"Thank you for your condolences," Scarlett replied aloofly, no tears followed. "For me it is the death of the whole era – it is the death of my childhood."

"I loved her so much, Scarlett," Suellen said. "Please believe me."

"I know, Sue. I believe you," Scarlett returned a sad smile.

Suellen shook her head blankly. "Thank you."

"I loved her too," Scarlett said.

"Scarlett, I am sorry, but I could do nothing to save her. Her health was deteriorating for many months," Doctor Fontaine admitted.

"I know, Doctor Fontaine. You don't need to apologize for what you aren't responsible for. Thank you for coming here," Scarlett appeased him.

During the funeral, Scarlett was standing alone, not in the crowd of people. Ashley was right behind her. He came from Atlanta and tried to be near Scarlett all the time during the funeral, apparently in the anticipation of her actions towards him and in his willing to protect her from Rhett. He probably hoped that Scarlett would agree to marry him and be a mother for Beau. On the cemetery he tried to embrace Scarlett in an attempt to console her, but she pushed him away and even didn't have a look on him, just making a cold comment that she was fine and wanted to be alone.

"Scarlett, darling, how can I help you? Aren't you cold?" Ashley requested anxiously, his grey eyes sparkling with concern. He stepped forward to her and embraced her about her shoulders.

"Thank you, Ashley. I am fine. I want to mourn in solitude. I am sorry," she answered icily and stepped aside from him. Rhett witnessed it.

Scarlett was reminiscing and thinking, with her thoughts interrupted by the priest's funeral speeches. Scarlett was numb and speechless with blank eyes, expressing absolutely nothing. Her aloofness and dead calmness to the outside world even strengthened, which wasn't unnoticed by Rhett and other mourners. She wasn't crying, like it was on the funeral of her Ma and Pa.

For Scarlett Mammy's death was also the death of the last connection with her childhood. She realized that there was no longer way back to her former life. She was no longer a sixteen-year-old Southern belle who was flirting with all boys in the County and loving only Ashley. She was no longer the wife, having become a widow for three times in her life and having lost the only true love she had ever had. But she still had for what to live in this bittersweet life, and the sense of her life now was bonded with her children whom she missed terribly.

Scarlett recalled what she had just promised Mammy and felt cold and terrible fear. She knew that complete happiness for her was possible only with Rhett. Yet, she was afraid of talking to Rhett. She was grateful to Mammy for not telling Rhett the truth. This left her a lot of room for maneuvers in relation to Rhett. Truth was that Scarlett didn't want to tell him about the children, because she didn't believe that he loved her after his terrible treatment of her as his wife two years ago. However, she was ready to kill her pride and self-esteem and tell Rhett the truth in some time, but only when she had a convenient moment for this.

There, on the cemetery, Rhett also remained separated from the crowd of mourners. He was standing a little further from the grave than Scarlett, accompanied by Ashley behind. Strangely, Rhett was not irritated by Ashley's presence. He felt grief for Mammy's loss as he loved her. He also remembered Bonnie, his small blue-eyed angel, and recalled his daughter's funeral. He was still suffering, but his ache was whiny and less sharp, it was more bearable than two years ago before he accepted her death internally. Accepted and reconciled with the cruel fate. He resigned to the fate that took his precious daughter from him.

Rhett was thinking about the last moments of Mammy's life. Rhett was puzzled with how it happened. He told that he loved Scarlett, but he was not sure that she loved him, as well as in his own feelings. Yes, he started to long for her even more here, at Tara. And he knew that his obsession with her had never stopped. No other woman can replace Scarlett. The most astonishing moment for him was when Mammy said "_My lamb… tell him… He must know…_" What did she mean? What did Scarlett have to tell him? Was it Rhett whom Scarlett had to tell something? Mammy had pronounced many disjoint phrases before her death. Rhett decided to talk to Scarlett after the funeral, perhaps, the next day. He admitted that she would leave Tara within the next days and go back to Europe, but before he would talk to her.

Weeping flooded the crowd of mourners at the moment than the coffin with Mammy's lifeless body was lowered down the ground to the grave. Suellen and Beatrice Tarleton burst out simultaneously into a tide of violent grief. They were standing near Mammy's grave as though they were paralyzed, and Will and Rhett had to help both of them to leave the cemetery. In the end of the funeral, Scarlett thanked everybody for their courtesy to come, took two of Suellen's daughters in her hands, and strode away from the grave to bury her sorrow in the privacy of her dwelling.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

**The ruined romance: unexpected attack on Tara and Ashley Wilkes' death**

After the funeral and the family commemoration at home had been finished, Rhett was waiting to stay alone with Scarlett. However, it was very difficult because Ashley decided to stay for the night to get back to Atlanta next morning. He demonstrably didn't want to leave Scarlett and Rhett alone in the room. Rhett was irritated that Ashley didn't want to retire. Rhett decided to begin the conversation.

"Scarlett, I want to talk to you in private. Shall we retire to the library?" Rhett told Scarlett.

"You can speak here, Mr Butler. What do you want from Scarlett?" Ashley asked with poorly hidden indignation and disdain for Rhett. He hated Rhett and didn't care whether he saw it.

Rhett cast a tolerant glance over his shoulder. "What I want from Scarlett is out of your business, Mr Wilkes."

Ashley stared at Rhett. His gaze was hard and unpleasant. "Mr Butler, I will not leave. She is my business. She has always been my business and will always be." His voice was steady.

Rhett didn't contradict Ashley's obvious exaggeration, however. Instead, his smile broadened. It was a sarcastic smile. "Really?"

"You have done enough, Mr Butler. Go back to Charleston. Thank you for helping with Mammy's funeral. But we no longer need you," Ashley said boldly.

"No longer need me here?" Rhett scoffed, but his voice was soft. A new wide grin came across his swarthy face, his white teeth glittering under his little black mustache.

"Ashley, I think, you are tired. Maybe, you want to retire early?" Scarlett interjected.

"Scarlett, I am not tired, and I don't want this man to hurt you," Ashley declared in a higher voice.

Scarlett inhaled. "Ashley, I will talk to Rhett," she parried.

"Are you sure, my dear? I don't want you to feel upset because of him," Ashley continued.

Scarlett's eyes flew to Ashley's grey ones. She gave a dry stare to him. "Ashley, I told you. I will be fine. Thank you for your concern. Goodnight," Scarlett closed the topic imperatively and showed Rhett by hand to go to the library.

"Fine, Scarlett. Goodnight," Ashley replied.

"Goodnight, Ashley." She saw how frustrated Ashley left the room.

"Goodnight, Mr Wilkes," Rhett's voice was calm.

When they were inside the library and Rhett closed the door, Scarlett asked: "This has been an awful day. Rhett, what do you want?"

"Scarlett, I am very sorry for Mammy. You know that I loved her."

"I know, Rhett. She also loved you. Thank you for being here with us during the past weeks," Scarlett said genuinely, but in the same manner of aloofness and estrangement.

"Scarlett, I wanted to ask what Mammy meant by "your promise to her." What did you promise her? Is it related to me?" Rhett asked.

"What do you mean, Rhett? And why should it be related to you?"

He cocked his head and looked at her, his eyes narrowing. "Mammy was weak, but her words were quite clear. She wanted you to do something for me. She said you should tell me something. I remember it. Please clarify what she wanted."

"I also took an oath to protect the secrets of mine," Scarlett answered with hellish aloofness and hollow, dead glance of her emerald cat-like eyes, which frightened Rhett.

The reality was that she was afraid of Rhett. She wanted to keep the word for Mammy, to be happy, but it meant that she had to talk to Rhett. Honest only to herself, she confessed in her mind that she didn't see any sense in telling Rhett about children. She knew that he hadn't loved her and hence divorced her. She knew that he had disgraced her name. Most importantly, she mused, she didn't want to make her life more complicated. However, she knew that she would have to do reveal the truth eventually.

"Scarlett, I see that you took an oath to be cool, damned oath to yourself. And I know its roots, darling," Rhett said.

Rhett was in horror. Every day he was watching her calm indifference. Now he felt shame for what he had done to her. Now he was confident that he had done too much. He was sure that the roots of this aloofness and coldness had an origin in his own actions towards Scarlett. Rhett decided not to pressure her and instead to please her somehow.

"Scarlett, I am very sorry for my actions towards you. I know that I was cruel and shouldn't treat you in such disrespectable and fierce way," he continued after a long pause as Scarlett was keeping silent.

"God's nightgown, Rhett Butler! I cannot believe! You are sorry?" Scarlett's voice went up to chilling soprano, her brows arched in the pained, cruel irony. She smiled unpleasantly.

"I do apologize. I have to." Despite the intended insult in her words, he remained calm.

"What are you saying? You are apologizing?"

"Yes. I do apologize."

"You have done too much. You are right." A sardonic laugh raised and quickly came to standstill in Scarlett's throat. Her jaw was relaxed, and neither of her face muscles even shivered.

"Scarlett, I am truly sorry, and I have regretted a lot about my treatment of you."

"Rhett, you might not love me, but you should at least respect the mother of your dead child."

"Scarlett, I know it. I was not myself and was acting in the way to protect myself from you. But I was not thinking about the methods at that time. Truth is that I wanted to have my life go on a downward spiral after Bonnie's death. I was dead inside. And I was mad at you for the failure of our marriage," Rhett decided to be frank. Anyway, he was losing nothing.

"I know my mistakes and my guilt. I was punished enough. Don't worry, Mr Butler, because your part in the punishment of my sins was considerable," she continued coldly.

Scarlett pursed her lips. "I was also punished, and I am being punished now. Believe me, my darling."

"I don't believe you," she shook her head. Scarlett's motions were careening crazily between anger, dread, fear, outrage, and even relief that their conversation finally occurred.

"You have to believe me," he half pleaded. "As I said, I am sorry."

"Sorry for what? For divorce or for treating me like one of scarlet women? Divorce was the only way out of the situation. I realized this only some time after the divorce happened and my mind had cooled off. You shouldn't be sorry for divorce."

"I am sorry for my actions, for what I said in the farewell letter to you. I was intentionally cruel in order to pull you away from me and to make you give divorce to me," Rhett confessed and sank down on the chair.

"That letter was a bestseller. You would earn a lot of money if you become a novelist, Rhett," Scarlett said even colder and accompanied it with a hellish smile of a devil. She wanted him to continue. Her heart was hammering harder and harder from an all-fired combination of feelings - anger, humiliation, pain, fatigue, and burden of her sweet secret. She guessed whether he could hear the strokes of her heart, as though bursting through her basque.

"Scarlett, what you wrote in your farewell letter was also correct. I was running away from all personal problems. I never told you that I loved you and only teased you. I was a coward. But I wanted to protect myself from you and your destructive love for herself and Ashley," Rhett sighed sorrowfully.

"I know it, Rhett. I was a fool for years in my treatment of you as a stranger in our marriage. In return, you lost your love for me and treated me like a whore, eventually divorcing me. We ended in a draw. There is no debt to be repaid. So everything is in the past. Including us," Scarlett continued talking.

"Scarlett, are you happy? Are you happy after remarriage and having children with a new husband? I know about it. Rumors are everywhere. One lady in Charleston told me during the tea party."

"Yes," she choked the word out.

"I am glad you are."

"Rhett, I am happy in my new life. But in my own way with my children," Scarlett continued in the same indifferent manner, but her hands started to tremble. Rhett noticed that.

At that moment, Rhett realized the roots of aloofness, calmness, coldness, and polite indifference on Scarlett's beautiful face. Resignation to fate was the reason. The question was what happened with her that she changed so much. But on the back of the same resignation to fate Rhett put on the cruel mask and made himself push Scarlett away from him two years ago.

"You are playing my own game, Scarlett."

"What game do you mean, Mr Butler?"

"Don't pretend that you don't understand."

"No," she said in a voice edged with sarcasm. "I don't understand."

"I mean your game of polite indifference. You put this mask on your face and pretend that you are indifferent to everything. In reality, you just resigned to fate by putting this indifference and nonchalance on yourself."

"Maybe."

"What game are you playing, Scarlett?" Rhett's voice resonated loudly.

She flicked an arrogant glance at him, her lips curving upwards in sardonic scoff. "I am not playing, unlike you, Mr Butler."

"You are playing, Scarlett, and you are playing hard in that cursed game of indifference and courtesy."

"Really?" she frowned.

He smirked. "Don't tell me that it is your French courtesy which your dear husband taught you in your blessed matrimony."

"Don't ever take my late husband because he was a true gentleman and one of the best men I had ever known, Mr Butler," Scarlett hissed, her fists clenched and unclenched.

"I am sorry, Scarlett. I didn't mean to insult you. Don't try to maneuver from the subject, Scarlett. What game are you playing? What happened with you? I am not a fool and I see that there is something I need to know," Rhett said calmly, his breathing wasn't smooth.

The silence followed. Now there was such a moment when Rhett was waiting Scarlett to speak herself out, while she still hesitated. In addition, both of them still didn't understand where that conversation was going. Will this conversation be a romantic, sentimental talk or will they begin to accuse and insult each other? Now, just for an instance, words seemed out of place in that room where the silence was like that in the tomb. Striving to still the thudding of her heart, which was hammering so hard as though it had echoed through the silence like a cathedral bell, Scarlett looked at Rhett. But an overpowering silence continued. Only their breathing was awake amid the silence and the stillness.

"Why did you tell Mammy that you love me? I know you lied," Scarlett thundered. Her anger boiled over. She was looking up at him, her eyes as blank as always when she was wearing a mask. However, her voice wasn't steady and calm: it was sodden with anger. "Did you lie to please Mammy on the deathbed? Of course, you have never been a gentleman, Rhett Butler!"

Scarlett asked as she was thinking of telling him the truth now, the truth about the children. But she wanted at first to hear an answer to this question. She knew that she loved him inside in her heart and knew that he most likely didn't love her, but anyway asked.

"Scarlett, I didn't…" Scarlett interrupted him. Rhett's gaze manifested a terrible patience.

"You can lie even on the deathbed! I am not astonished, Captain Butler, because it is just you, and I know you too well." Scarlett laughed out in that devilish manner of this new Scarlett. Fresh anger rose in her body, the anger of hurt pride, feminine vanity, and downtrodden love. Scarlett asked this as she decided to tell him the truth now, the truth about the children. But she wanted at first to hear an answer to this question. She knew that she loved him inside in her heart and knew that he most likely didn't love her, but anyway asked.

"I didn't lie to please Mammy. The truth is that I don't know."

"What don't you know?" A wide grin manifested her indifferent face.

"I loved you for many years, but after Bonnie's death I was dead. During the past two years I started to feel better, but I can feel so little," Rhett paused. He sighed. "I deeply regret that I hurt you so much. And I remembered you not once during last two years. I hope you believe me." His voice was deep, clear, and confident. His speech seemed to be genuine.

Rhett glanced at Scarlett. His dark eyes scanned her from head to tiptoes. The sight of Scarlett sent a little shock down his spine. Her lips were rose-pink and full. He wanted to kiss her in her lips. He wanted to taste her again. He wanted her. He didn't want a short kiss. A handful of kisses hadn't been enough. Her hair was braided and bound up, tight and proper, but her mouth pursed. He perceived it as a sort of hint of impropriety, which made him think of unlacing her from the confines of her mourning gown and unpinning her curling hair. He wanted to make love to her. But Rhett knew that it wasn't possible. It was only in his dreams. At least it wasn't possible now and in the foreseeable future. Nevertheless, he could kiss her. He could allow himself a simple kiss.

Suddenly, Rhett made a step forward to her. He took her in an embrace and kissed her. He kissed her to make her smile and to feel better. He kissed her because he had dreamed about it for the past two years. He kissed her because he wanted her. His lips found her. She exhaled as he did so. Rhett felt it, more than heard it, felt her chest heave under his hands, her lips part beneath hers. His hands came to her side, clasping her waist.

His tongue slipped into her mouth. Under his shirt, Scarlett could feel the hard planes of his chest, the muscles beneath her gloved hands. She forgot about everything that had transpired between them. She forgot that anything stood between them, besides the fabric of his shirt, separating her hand from the thud of his heart. She felt only pleasure from his kiss. She was kissing him back.

Scarlett felt as another caress of his tongue reached hers. His hands drifted up her sides, awakening a deep yearning inside her. And then suddenly reality struck her. It was the day of Mammy's funeral. It was Rhett Butler who had divorced her and who had disgraced her. It wasn't possible that she had answered to his kiss. She had to stop herself. She mustn't kiss him.

Scarlett pulled away. "A shame," she said calmly. "I am shameless."

Scarlett's mind was whirling in numerous thoughts. Scarlett was angry at herself that she allowed Rhett to kiss herself on the day of Mammy's death. And she was also angry at him because she thought that he had no right to do what he did. How could Rhett kiss her on the day of Mammy's death? Did he want to kiss only Scarlett? And did the physical shape of the woman he kissed and held in his arms matter so little to him? Did the time when he kissed a woman mattered so little to him? If that were so, she couldn't act so wildly in his fashion. It would be absolute nonsense, total absurd from her side. Her mother Ellen had lived and had died in dignity, and she would have never kissed a man on the day of Mammy's death. While her mother was so proper, in what grace did Scarlett clothe herself on that mournful day? Scarlett felt ashamed. She stared for a long time at the wall ahead, not having enough strength to look into Rhett's face and in his black eyes in particular. As she recalled her proper mother Ellen, every fibre of her body silently trembled with shame at the memory of her intoxicating kiss with Rhett on the day of Mammy's death.

Rhett cocked an eye. "Why is that so?"

After this question, Scarlett felt an aching bitterness creep over her. In an instant, her heart collapsed and fell in ruins. Rhett didn't see any shame in what he initiated! She knew that he cared for her, loved her perhaps as much as he was capable of loving a particular woman who was very important for him. However, how could he ask such strange questions on the day when Mammy died?

At this moment, she nearly lost her temper, finding in her anger a release for her deepest emotions.

"Today is the day of Mammy's funeral. We mustn't even think about such things," she said. Then she raised her voice. "Don't you know that, Mr Butler? Or do I have to remind you what the day is today?" She spoke the last words through clenched teeth in a cold voice, thinking of what her father Gerald would say the same in the same situation.

"You don't have to remind me what the day is today," he admitted.

Scarlett's heart constricted. How could Rhett be so cruel and so tender in different times, at times even simultaneously? How could he make her feel so warm and so cold, all at the same time? She gazed attentively at him, her thoughts floundering somewhere between fear and despair, but he eyes were still expressionless of her emotions. She had no answer to these questions, no answer even for herself.

She said stonily: "Love is a silly, romantic notion."

"Scarlett, you replied to my kiss."

"I did," she nodded in agreement. She smiled with a melancholic smile. "I did kiss you back because it was pleasant. Just pleasant."

"I don't think so."

"You may think whatever you want," Scarlett declared indifferently, her eyes blank. She raised her chin. "Love, infatuation, and all types of the obsessive behavior associated with it, are an absurd, raw emotion."

"Maybe, but in this case why did I love you?" Rhett said with a slight grin. "I cannot act absurdly."

"You are a devil!" she whispered, torn between laughter and anger. Now when Rhett looked to be good-natured, she felt relief, her body relaxed. Much of her anger evaporated. However, she knew that Rhett could be very different from this calm, polite Rhett and that he appeared to survey the world with air of exclusive, incurable cynicism, so that everything could be expected from this man.

"I would hardly describe both you and me as angels," Rhett mocked and looked her over with approval.

"I agree. Please remember that I am not going to grant my love to you."

"If you can grant me nothing, then at least grant me this," Rhett requested icily. "Stop persisting in this foolish determination to spite me and still stay visibly indifferent."

"I am not going to spite you," she drawled in a bored, steady voice. "And I am indeed indifferent."

"What happened with you?" Rhett asked in a tone that brooked no argument.

"Rhett, I am emotionally dead. You hurt me too much, Rhett. I am dead for everything and everybody, except for one thing," Scarlett prepared herself inside to tell him the truth. She felt breathless as though something within her had driven her flopped over, as though a huge rope was put on her neck and now was strangling her. She drew a deep, but heavy breath, and said: "Everything is very complicated… Life is like a maze with many entrances and exits, but only one of them is correct."

"Dead, Scarlett? Darling, what happened with you? What did Mammy want you to tell me?"

Rhett's passive mask of indifference went down for a while, unsheathing his anxiety and concern. Rhett was puzzled but he saw that the polite blandness and calm nonchalance were replaced by fear and resignation to fate. Her eyes indeed were blank and cold, but she was preparing for something, and he noticed this. He came to her and put his hands on her shoulders, keeping distance from her body. Suddenly, he started to feel tension in his body and desire to hug her and take her small frame in his arms overcame him completely.

"I am dead inside. And nothing will change in this aspect. But keeping a promise is a great honor and responsibility. I am keeping it for myself and Mammy. I promised her to be happy. Rhett, you need to know that when I left the South…"

Scarlett wanted to say that she had been pregnant by him when she had left the South. She wanted to tell him the truth, but was interrupted by the sudden loud noise, which was nothing more than a gunshot. They also heard numerous unfamiliar voices outside. It looked like many people were approaching the house. Then voices grew to shouting and ordering, and then shouting rose to fever pitch. Something was going on outside the house, and it was likely that it had been something dangerous.

"Rhett, what is it? Do you hear the noise and those voices?" The green eyes reflected a genuine surprise.

"Scarlett, I don't know. But I am sure that it was a gunshot," Rhett responded hesitantly.

"This is probably the gang of criminals that attacked the Tarleton plantation recently," she mused.

The time for the romantic, truthful conversation with Rhett was past. Their conversation finished like a ruined romance: important things weren't said, while dangerous things were going to happen. It was as though they had found a quite peaceful temple where they had wanted to talk, to love and cherish each other, but that temple had finally been ruined, and now they needed permission to dig about for buried stones and things. It went without saying, in the circumstances and almost always, that the ruined temples weren't restored for much time after their demolition, and Scarlett secretly hoped that it wouldn't be their case with Rhett and that they soon would find a chance to talk to each other. Maybe, the romance and the sentimental talk, ruined by the gang of criminals, will continue tomorrow, she mused. Now it was the time for adventure and, probably, for death. Scarlett flinched at the thought of death. God, she prayed, please help us to deal with those criminals.

Rhett looked alarmed. "Yes."

"My God!" Scarlett exclaimed.

"I will check. Stay here, Scarlett," Rhett said and headed to the parlor.

Rhett and Scarlett were not the only people who heard gunshot and rushed downstairs. Rhett found Will and Ashley in the living room. Will was with four guns in his hands and gave one to Ashley and Rhett two of them. The voices were somewhere outside, and it was evident that the masters of these voices were waiting the household members to leave the house through the front door.

"I think that those damned criminals are outside."

Ashley nodded. "I agree."

"It is all the weapon I have in arsenal." Will showed on several guns at the table. "Let's go on the front steps. I ordered Suellen to stay upstairs with children in our bedroom," Will added.

At the same time, Scarlett entered the parlor. She swept her eyes over the room, quickly realizing the tense environment around.

"I have two more pistols," Rhett said, showing at his two dueling pistols in the pockets of the trousers.

"What is going on here?" Scarlett questioned as she stopped near Rhett.

"I told you to stay in the library. Now, Scarlett, go upstairs to Suellen's bedroom. Be a good girl," Rhett addressed to his former wife, and his eyes locked with her blazing emerald orbs.

"I am old enough to decide what to do, Mr Butler. I will…" she wanted to object, but was interrupted.

"I ordered you to go upstairs to Suellen. Immediately! Take this pistol for your safety," Rhett said imperatively, looking at Scarlett with evident anger and authority in his eyes.

"Alright, Rhett," she agreed reluctantly, her tongue clamped between her teeth. Not wanting to leave and casting her malcontent glance at Rhett, Scarlett, with a sigh of relief, hurried up the steps to find Suellen, giving to Rhett a glance of dissatisfaction and resentment.

"Ashley, Will, can you please follow me?" Rhett commanded.

"Yes, Rhett," they replied briefly.

Rhett put an index finger on his lips, showing Ashley and Will to keep silent. Walking with a light Indian-like tread, they headed in the direction of the front door of the house. Rhett opened the door, slowly and nearly noiselessly, and looked narrowly into the darkness. He went outside, and Ashley and Will followed him into the darkness to the unfamiliar voices.

What happened next was relatively unexpected. They saw several people with the guns, and one of the criminals fired. The fire-fight began, accompanied by tremendous noise and loud cries of a frightened woman. It was Prissy, a black maid who was with Rhett, Melanie and Scarlett during their escape from Atlanta siege many years ago. Prissy was in her room and opened the window to ventilate the stuffy room when she heard the gunshots. She didn't close the window and was standing near it, paralyzed with fear and shouting hysterically. Rhett silently hoped that Prissy would shut up or Scarlett would make her keep the mouth closed. Prissy was attracting criminals' attention to the house, which was not in Rhett's plans.

Rhett and Ashley rushed down and were lying on the floor at the front steps, using the space of the steps behind high parapet as trenches. At the same time, Will was trying to get to the back of the house to check whether criminals were attacking from the back door. Will was praying in his mind that Prissy would hush up not to cause general panic of women who stayed upstairs in the house. A heavy fire of shot was continued with few and short pauses. Most of the shots came from the front side of the house and the red road to Tara.

One of the criminals found his way to the front steps and boldly gave the door a yank, but in the darkness he didn't notice Rhett and Ashley on the floor. Ashley, who saw him earlier than Rhett did, swiftly rose to his feet and jumped on the man from the back. The attacked man turned around and hit Ashley harshly. Another gunshot followed, and Ashley immediately dropped on the floor, leaving a huge puddle of red blood on the front steps. The blood, the result of the wound, pounded in Ashley's ears for some time, but his pulse was becoming quieter and quieter, and finally his heavy eyes closed.

Rhett reacted immediately and fired, but, unfortunately, it was too late for Ashley. With a loud scream of a dying animal crossing the Styx, the criminal awkwardly fell on Ashley's lifeless body. The blood was streaming down slowly, from higher to lower steps. Rhett quickly checked Ashley's pulse on his wrist and then on his neck, but there was no sign of the heart pumping the blood – Ashley's heart stopped. Rhett realized that he was most likely dead. Ashley Wilkes was dead.

Rhett's hard was pounding harder and harder at this thought. Ashley Wilkes was dead. Rhett swept his eyes over his body and concluded that the bullet got Ashley through his stomach, which was a deathful, severe wound for a poor blonde man. This was the end of life of the honorable gentleman Ashley, Rhett's former competitor who destroyed his marriage with the only woman he had ever loved. Rhett noticed dolefully that Ashley was killed defending Tara and Scarlett. He was thunderstruck with the realization that Ashley was dead, but there was no time to stop on his internal musings.

Staying on the front steps, Rhett seemed to gather his whole powerful frame compactly together. He saw a blurred shadow of another man approaching him from the right. Despite having experience of participation in a fire-shot during his past adventures in Cube and in California in the time of gold rush, Rhett felt a cold shiver along his spine when this shadow transformed to a real man in front of him, a man who was ready to pull the trigger. Rhett glanced at him and shot forward. The criminal dropped on the steps, but suddenly another shadow appeared on the wall of the white house. Realizing that the gun was unloaded, Rhett drew another dueling pistol from his belt, and several shots whistled close to him, one of them reaching his left shoulder at its surface. Rhett glanced forward and sent a bullet toward the pursuit – a shadow. There was a loud human cry and then silence. Rhett sighed heavily as he had to kill two men in the ongoing shoot-out. He looked sideward on his shoulder, touched it slightly, and asserted that the bullet wasn't in his body and passed through his body or at surface. Not feeling any pain, Rhett tried to ignore the wound and clotted blood on his palms.

The time was passing slowly. Rhett heard that Will was calling for him, and he instantly rushed to the back of the house, where he saw Will surrounded by two criminals. Both Will and Rhett fired. One of the criminals dropped on the ground, apparently dead. Another one was wounded, and his cries and curses followed his fell. Rhett bent down to this criminal and took his pistol from his hands. Will was also wounded in the right shoulder.

"Will, how are you? You are wounded, aren't you?" Rhett asked worriedly.

"I am fine, Rhett. Let's go to the front door. I think we are done with them. I have already asked Pork to go to sheriff in Jonesboro and to call for the doctor. Pork left the house around ten minutes ago."

"Did he make it to the stables? Let's drag this rascal with us. We cannot leave him here," Rhett commented.

"Yes, he did. I accompanied him to the stables. I had to kill two of them and Pork killed another one by knife. It is the shedding of blood," Will said quietly, looking ahead at nothing. His eyes were turbulent.

"Prissy is mad. Damn her! Damn her!" Rhett said in disgust. Rhett grasped the wrists of the wounded criminal in order to drag him to the house.

"Rhett, I will help you. Wait," Will interjected. He stopped down and tightly gripped the criminal on his forearm. Now they were dragging this man together.

"Thank you, Will. I hope Pork will manage to urge the sheriff," Rhett's face hardened as he looked at criminal - a dark-skinned man with lips pressed tightly together, his face jiggered with scars, his half-opened eyes were burning with hatred and lust for blood. Rhett smirked as the criminal moaned in pain and closed his heavy eyes. "What a dyed-in-the-wool murderer. Will, look at him."

"He looks like a notorious murderer and a criminal," Will responded with hatred in his voice.

"Indeed, Will," Rhett said.

"Where is Ashley? Rhett… Do you hear the cries? It is Suellen…" Will asked after a pause while they were going to the front of the house.

"Yes, I do hear them… Ashley is there… He is most likely dead," escaped Rhett's lips, his voice slightly shaking.

"Ashley is dead?" Will's eyes grew wide.

"Yes, he can be dead. We should check what happened on the front steps. Let's go there," Rhett said.

As the last word left Rhett's lips, another gunshot followed. Frightened Will and Rhett increased their speed in order to get to the front staircase. They faced lost all traits of color. As they were dragging the wounded criminal, it wasn't so quickly to get there. A fear surged through their bodies as a terrible idea overcame their minds. However, nobody knew what they would see there.

At the same time, in the house, Scarlett was trying to calm down Suellen, Prissy, children, and other servants. Scarlett was the only woman who didn't lose her self-control and composure. Dilcey wasn't in a great hysteric, but still was panicking – there was not much help from her. They all were in Suellen and Will's bedroom where Scarlett commanded everybody to go after she found her sister and children in the room. She decided that gathering all of them together in the same room would ease her task to watch children and console panicking women, including Prissy and other servants.

Suellen was sitting on the floor with children who snuggled close to her. She was numb and speechless because of the fear that captured and paralyzed all her body. She stared in the emptiness of the dark room and didn't move. Suellen was unable to console children in her shocked condition. Scarlett was furious because Suellen was always ready for clashes and poison comments in relation to Scarlett, but then it comes to helping herself and children in extreme situations, she was so helpless. It was Scarlett who was telling four small girls that the terrible noise outside would cease soon and it was alright. Scarlett was talking with the girls tenderly in her sing song voice and persuaded them not to cry loudly and kissed each of them in turns.

When Prissy resumed crying hysterically after the last two gunshots, her hysterical cries were more than enough for frightened children. In a despair of the tremendous noise, but more because of Prissy's cries and entreaties to help her, one of the girls, Lucie, the smallest, left the room and was running downstairs. The small girl didn't know where she was going, but hoped that she will find the place in the house there the gunshots and Prissy's cries would not be heard. She made her way downstairs and went to the kitchen, climbing under the large kitchen table.

"Dilcey, please try to console Prissy," Scarlett demanded imperatively.

As Scarlett was absorbed in children's comforting and Dilcey was dealing with frightened Prissy, they didn't notice that Lucie had left the room quietly. Dilcey didn't succeed in comforting Prissy as Prissy cried out even louder in despair. Irritated up to her fingernails, Scarlett approached Prissy and took her about her shoulders. With all her strength, she dragged crying Prissy to the corner of the room, stopped there, and began to violently shake her.

"Useless piece of luggage, shut up immediately! You fool! Shut up!" Scarlett was hissing at Prissy and shaking her for her shoulders.

Scarlett slapped Prissy across her face twice with such strength that Prissy dropped her head in powerlessness and felt dizziness in her knees. She put the palm on her mouth and in numbness looked at Scarlett. Prissy's eyes were frantic and wandering in horror, but the purpose was achieved – now the darkie was keeping silent. Scarlett stepped aside from frightened Prissy and looked at Suellen who was sweeping her wandering eyes over the room.

"What are you looking for, Sue?" Scarlett inquired calmly.

"Lucie is not here. Scarlett, did you see her?" Suellen asked in fear.

"Yes, I cannot see her. I will check in all rooms. Watch children," Scarlett said with alarm in her voice.

"I will help you. Dilcey, please stay with children and this foolish Prissy," Suellen mumbled.

"Yes, Miss Suellen," Dilcey replied.

"Dilcey, keep an eye on Prissy, please. She must be silent," Scarlett added.

Dilcey's face went crimson. "Yes, Miss Scarlett."

Suellen and Scarlett checked all the rooms upstairs, but didn't find the small girl. They went downstairs and checked in the living room, parlor, as well as in the kitchen, not thinking that Lucie was sitting under the table. Therefore, they missed her when they were in the kitchen and headed back to the living room and then to the parlor. Lucie was so frightened that ignored the calls for her. Scarlett and Suellen were afraid that she went outside of the house, which was very dangerous for a small girl. The whiteness of their faces deepened into pallor, and even in the darkness they looked ghostly pale.

"I will check on the front steps," Suellen said to Scarlett.

"No, I will do it. It is dangerous. Stay here," Scarlett answered and looked at Suellen with determination.

"It is my daughter and I will find her by myself," Suellen told Scarlett angrily, showing her upper hand even in the extraordinarily dangerous situation.

"Sue, stop it. It is neither time nor place for hatred. We will do it together," Scarlett countered.

Suellen's eyes sparkled in the semi-darkness of the room. "Fine, Scarlett."

Suellen went to the front door, opened it, and went outside. She started calling Lucie in despair that she had lost her daughter. Scarlet followed her, attentively listening what was going on around them. Scarlett raised her eyes and looked around. Today the darkness was almost complete, and the clouds in the sky hid the moon. Scarlett held her breath, feeling the danger closing round her like a clenching hand, and she gazed with painful presentiment at the front steps. She realized that now they were under the fire-fight.

"Lucie, Lucie! Where are you? Come to me," Suellen called under whizz of bullets. "Lucie, Lucie! Come to me!"

"Lucie, where are you?" Scarlett cried out.

"Lucie, my dear, come to mother! I am here," Suellen screamed loudly, but no reply followed.

Scarlett found Ashley's lifeless body on the steps in the puddle of blood and was shocked and immobilized for a second. Absorbed in her thoughts about her daughter and continuing to call for her, Suellen missed another man who was standing close to the front steps and participated in the current fire-fight. Scarlett noticed the shadow of criminal on the white wall of the house. She heard the heavy breath of that man, and suddenly she saw the hideous face, hairy like the face of some huge anthropoid. He was very close to them and was aiming with the pistol at Suellen. Scarlett saw the black muzzle of a pistol gleaming in the criminal's hand.

Now Scarlett had to do the only thing she had in her mind. She hoped that her attempt wouldn't prove fatal to both – Suellen and herself. "Suellen! Suellen!" she cried out. With a sinking heart, half frightened by the criminal, half pushed to move by the danger, she stepped forward to her sister.

Scarlett made a movement towards Suellen, capturing her from the back, snuggling to her tightly, and forcing them both to drop on the steps. They fell on the left side from the front door, in several steps from Ashley's body. Another gunshot suddenly followed, and no cries were heard after. Then the puddle of blood appeared near Suellen and Scarlett, increasing in its size rapidly.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

**Scarlett's restless oblivion and Ashley's funeral**

When Will and Rhett got to the front staircase, the picture they saw was quite far from what they could fantasize. They witnessed the criminal and Ashley's bloodless bodies. What drove them to their sanity was not Ashley, but the bodies of two women, the upper one being Scarlett. They also saw a huge puddle of blood close to them. Blood drained from their faces.

Having realized what happened and forgetting about the wounded criminal, Rhett rushed to Scarlett and Suellen. He leaned down and turned around Scarlett's body. He saw a large spot of red blood higher her abdomen and almost under her right breast. Rhett felt that she was hardly breathing. He checked her pulse that was very weak and hardly noticeable. Thanks God that she was not dead. Rhett continued to call for her, but she was unconscious. Rhett's heart collapsed as the picture of shot Scarlett made his blood outflow in a full tide. He heard a strange whistling in his ears.

"Scarlett, do you hear me? Scarlett, Scarlett…" Rhett was calling in a horse voice, his face deathly pale.

"She doesn't hear you," Will's voice spoke aloud.

"Scarlett… My darling… Don't leave me…"

Leaving the wounded and moaning criminal on the ground, Will marched to Suellen and took his wife in his hands. He quickly examined her body: she wasn't wounded, but her eyes were tightly closed, her jaw clenched. She opened the eyes in shock. She was dumbfounded and motionless.

"She… covered… me by herself… I was looking… for Lucie… She disappeared…" Suellen was stammering and said it slowly in a dead voice, with hollow, sightless glance of her eyes.

"Will, please call for the doctor. It must be done urgently," Rhett instructed in a hoarse voice. Rhett cats a quick look at two spouses, a look of an unpronounced fear and anxiety.

Will's mind prodded to action by the feverish urgency of Rhett's words. He replied: "I will call for him, Rhett."

"Please, take care of that scoundrel on the ground," Rhett snapped negligently.

"I will do it, Rhett… Don't worry and be with Scarlett. Suellen, go to the house. I have so more deal here," Will said. He released Suellen, stepped aside from her, and bent down to the criminal. He grasped him tightly for his shoulders and began to shake him. The criminal moaned from pain, but Will didn't care. He hissed though his clenched teeth: "I should have killed you, sonofobitch. Damn you! Damn you! A simple arrest is too simple punishment for such scoundrels and murderers like you."

Rhett took Scarlett in his large hands and carried her upstairs to her old room. Never, even in his wildest dreams, had he seen that Scarlett would be shot and would be so close to her deathbed. She was young and healthy, and she never was sick, excluding the fall from the staircase, which Rhett will never forget. Rhett was afraid that she would die and he would never see her again. In her room he cut her corset by the knife in order to release her chest and let her breathe freely as there was no time to unlace the corset. Rhett's hands were in her red blood, and he quickly estimated that her wound should have been quite serious. Rhett's hands were trembling under the thought of losing her, and his heart began to pour the blood in a full tide through his veins, harder and harder.

Rhett silently prayed for the doctor to come immediately and to God to save Scarlett. Having put her body carefully on the bed and then cunningly undressed her, Rhett dashed downstairs, taking two steps for one. He needed to ask Dilcey to help him and to know when the doctor would arrive. He saw Suellen with Will, surrounded by their children, in the parlor and the sheriff with his people. Having seen Rhett, Will stepped forward to him.

"Will, when will the doctor arrive? It is very urgent. Scarlett's wound is dangerous," Rhett mumbled under his breath, "Send for the doctor, Will!"

"The doctor is coming. And Ashley is indeed dead… Unfortunately…" Will said in horror.

"Have you properly examined him?" Rhett snapped aloofly as all his thoughts were with Scarlett.

"Yes, I did, Rhett. He doesn't breath," plunged from Will's lips.

"Poor man," Rhett pronounced so slowly as though he was struggling not to swallow his own tongue.

"God, please help Scarlett. She saved my life," Suellen paused in her appeal to God and continued, "We found Lucie. She was in the kitchen… She was so frightened…"

"The sheriff and his people are checking the neighborhood, but it seems that we are done with them. Rhett… he asked for you… I mean the sheriff…" Will said.

"I don't care for them. Will, talk to the sheriff, please… I need the doctor or I will kill somebody else. I am coming back to Scarlett's room," Rhett nearly screamed, his voice husk and shaking.

"I will talk to him, Rhett. The doctor will arrive soon," Will forced words to come from his lips.

Rhett was waiting for the doctor upstairs in Scarlett's room. He was looking at her beautiful, fragile body and ghostly pale face. He was mesmerized by the picture, which took all his breath from him. He felt as though life was leaving him. No, he couldn't lose her. He would better be dead by himself.

Rhett settled himself in the chair near Scarlett's bed and took her hand in his large one. He started to place gentle kisses her on each of fingers on her right hand and kissing her palm. Then he rose to his feet and kissed her in her red lips and on her forehead. Rhett sank back in the chair, and his head dropped to his chest. Unshed tears started to form in his dark eyes and were streaming down his swarthy face screwed up in heartache.

When Doctor Fontaine arrived at Tara, Suellen was running to him from the front steps.

"Oh, Doctor Fontaine, I am so glad to see you," she cried out. "We need you here."

"Is it about the gang of criminals?" the doctor inquired anxiously. He walked closer to Suellen.

Suellen gave a half nod. "Yes."

Doctor Fontaine's voice wasn't steady. "What happened?"

Suellen stared at Doctor Fontaine and blinked rapidly. "It is Scarlett," she announced. "She has been shot."

"Oh God!" the doctor exclaimed. "Let's go to Scarlett."

As Suellen felt nervous, her breathing accelerated. "You must save Scarlett!"

Suellen accompanied him to Scarlett's room upstairs. The doctor spent around two hours with Scarlett. Having examined her, he said that the wound was very dangerous and that she lost a lot of blood, which could ultimately result in her death. The doctor extracted the bullet from her immobilized body and put the bandages on the wound. He also examined Will and Rhett's wounds, which, fortunately, were only of a surface nature, and put bandages on their wounds.

Suellen glanced at the doctor. "How is Scarlett, doctor?"

"Will Scarlett survive? Please tell us the truth, doctor," Rhett said in a steady voice.

"I am very sorry, but I am not sure Scarlett will survive," the doctor declared.

"Oh God!" Suellen groaned.

Rhett numbly stared ahead. "Why do you think so?" His words were forced out to come from his mouth.

"She lost a lot of blood. Now she is having high fever that worsens the situation. We need to break down the fever," Doctor Fontaine said sorrowfully to Rhett and Suellen, who also was in the room.

"Thank you, doctor. How can I help her?" Rhett asked the doctor quietly and glanced at him and Suellen with the look of rage at himself and fear.

"You cannot help her. She may be delirious. If she wakes up, give her these pills to ease pain. Mr Butler, you are her husband, aren't you?" the old doctor asked.

"Yes, he is her husband," Suellen answered instead of Rhett.

"Doctor, please, save her for me. Money is not a problem. I cannot live without her. Please, save her!" Rhett implored. He was looking away as he spoke. "She must live… She must smile and laugh as though nothing had happened." His voice was very quiet.

"Doctor, please, save my sister. Don't let her die!" Suellen pleaded foolhardily. Her voice reached a high, nervous pitch. "Save her, doctor!"

"I am doing everything I can," Doctor Fontaine assured.

Suellen's gaze followed the doctor. She appeared to be considering whether to pursue him with more questions. Then she said humbly: "I know. I am sorry."

"I will come here tomorrow. Pray to God for Scarlett, Mr Butler and Mrs Benteen. Scarlett has always been strong and healthy and she can make it through. Let's hope," doctor answered irresolutely, standing at the doorway, and left the room. Truthfully, he wasn't sure that he would be able to save Scarlett.

Rhett accompanied doctor Fontaine downstairs to the parlor and returned to Scarlett's bedroom. That night he was praying and asking God to forgive him for all his past sins and transgressions, for all the bad and unpleasant things he did not only to Scarlett, but to all the women he had ever known.

Doctor Fontaine also examined Ashley's body and confirmed his death occurred as a result of a dreadful wound in his stomach. Ashley's body was supposed to be transported back to Atlanta next day in the morning. Suellen decided to send India Wilkes the telegram about Ashley's death tomorrow. She didn't know how to tell India about, but was more worried about Scarlett's state. On the early morning of next day, Pork embarked Ashley's body in the wagon and headed to Atlanta.

The police confirmed that all the gang of criminals had eventually been disarmed. The wounded criminal was arrested and eventually sent to the hospital under the guard. His wounds weren't serious, and he had to answer in law for what the whole gang of criminals had done. Moreover, several other criminals were caught in the neighborhood and arrested, and the sheriff publicly swore that all the criminals would be strictly punished.

Three days passed, and at Tara nothing changed. Scarlett was still on or near her deathbed. She hasn't awakened yet and still had high fever, but was no longer bleeding from the gunshot wound. She was delirious and recognized nobody. She was wandering mentally somewhere in the past.

Rhett refused to leave Scarlett's side and in the night was sleeping either in the chair or on the floor close to her bed. Suellen used several blankets and a couple of pillows to construct a bed for Rhett when he refused to sleep in his own room in order not to leave Scarlett. Rhett didn't eat and was only sitting with Scarlett, kissing her hands and fingers, mumbling something unclear, and waiting for her awakening. He wanted to see her opening eyes and asking for him. He needed nothing but a whisper from her beautiful lips that he kissed so many times.

Now, when Rhett was so close to losing her, a strong tide of terrible shame and guilt overcame his body, heart, and soul. He realized that he loved her and never stopped loving this stubborn, selfish, and seductive belle of Georgia. He felt guilty for all his cruel actions in the past, for treating her badly and pushing her away from him, for divorcing and disgracing her, and leaving her high and dry at first in Atlanta and then in Charleston after the night of passion and love. He was afraid that she would die before he managed to tell her that he still loved her and worshiped her. He loved her more than himself and his own life, as his heart said to him in that lamentable minute. He didn't care about her former husband and any money in the world, her children born in the last marriage, whom he assumed to be not his, but her last husband's. He inferred that he would love her in richness and poverty, sickness and health until his dying day. He cursed violently and called himself in the worst expressions. Rhett continued kissing her palm and murmuring words for forgiveness.

Each day Rhett was drinking whiskey in Scarlett's room. When Will and Suellen were soon out of their three-months stock of whiskey, Rhett started drinking wine and soon the household was running away of wine stock as well. Much to Will and Suellen's surprise, inebriation didn't overcome Rhett's body, and he was always sober as his pain and fear to lose her didn't give his body and brain to become intoxicated. Suellen and Will were afraid for Rhett's sanity, especially one evening when Suellen found him crying on Scarlett's fragile frame and asking for forgiveness. Shame, self-disgust, despair, and hope for forgiveness claimed Rhett's heart to the complete exclusion of all other thoughts.

"Scarlett, please forgive me! I made you go through this ordeal. You were so strong, but I broke you… Forgive me… It is my entire fault," Rhett whispered in a sing song voice.

The door to the room where Rhett was sitting was ajar. Scarlett's bedchamber was adorned with hand-painted wallpaper, bright exotic birds frolicking amidst colorful flowers. Suellen ordered to refurbish the house a year ago, and Scarlett's old bedroom no longer was as she remembered it before her departure from the United States. In the corner near the window, the room was elegantly appointed with a gilded hall table, upon which sat a pair of Chinese vases, devoid of flowers, were standing. Three matching gilded chairs were upholstered in bright turquoise. The floor was a chequerboard of black-and-white marble. Even the fireplace was made in the bedroom.

The room was chilly, as though someone had allowed the fire in the fireplace to go out. Rhett was sitting near Scarlett' bed, his eyes focused on her slim form under the covers. Rhett felt that it had turned cold in the room, and it awoken him from his slumber. He stood up and approached the fireplace. To his surprise, the fire had not died out at all. It was all set to be lit. He found the tinderbox and soon had a flame licking across the lumps of coal. It was gradually becoming warmer in the room.

Rhett sank back into the chair near Scarlett's bed. His thoughts, as if having a will of their own, turned back to Scarlett, and he imagined taking her in his arms, tasting her lips, sliding his hands over her skin, and her final awakening. However, he knew that kisses won't help Scarlett to awaken – it was not a fairy tale. Scarlett was sick and only the professional doctor could save her.

Distracted in his thoughts, Rhett didn't hear how Suellen entered the room.

"Rhett, please you must have a rest." Her tone was low and soft.

"I am fine, Suellen." Rhett didn't look at her.

"I know that you haven't been sleeping," Suellen objected. "Please, try to sleep. I will look after Scarlett."

Rhett turned to Suellen and stared at her. "Do not insult my capability of nursing Scarlett, Suellen. You will wound my male vanity." It was an awkward mock. Rhett looked into Suellen's eyes, now glittering with unspent tears.

Suellen's heart wrenched for him. "You must be in great pain," she whispered.

"I am."

Suellen flinched. "And so am I."

"Suellen, I won't leave her bedside. I cannot do it," Rhett whispered despairingly. He raised his head and gave to Suellen a look of torment and despair. There were small tears oozing his deep-black eyes.

"You need to rest. Otherwise, very soon you will need a doctor," she insisted. Her hand fluttered. Her voice was sodden with sadness.

Rhett took in a ragged breath. "I am fine," he said shortly in an unemotional voice.

Looking at this strong, handsome, crying man, she eventually collapsed in quite, hot tears as desolation reached its peak. At that second her despair was more than her heart could bear and she spelled out loudly "Oh God!"

"I don't care for myself, Suellen. I want Scarlett to live. This is the only thought haunting me now."

Rhett's answer tumbled at her. His voice sounded so far away as though he had been buried alive while Suellen was still on the ground.

"I understand." Suellen chocked with words.

Suellen's eyes fixed at Scarlett on the bed. She swallowed her sobs forming in her throat. Tears were also streaming down her tired face. She wiped her tears and twisted her handkerchief helplessly in her hands. Then she swallowed again.

Rhett was still staring at Scarlett. "Suellen, you may leave. You may have something to do downstairs," he presupposed.

"I am leaving," she declared.

"Alright."

"Rhett, be calm," she murmured. "Our troubles will vanish soon."

Rhett didn't answer as he wanted to laugh hysterically. Once she may have believed that troubles were what other people experienced, but he realized some time ago that it was different for him and Scarlett. Now it seemed trouble would follow him and Scarlett to the end of their days.

"I will return in an hour," Suellen added.

Somewhere behind him a door slammed, and Rhett blinked. It was Sullen who had just left the room.

It was a time for Suellen O'Hara Benteen to have a look on her life from the new side. Suellen felt deep guilt and disdain to herself for her awful treatment of her blood sister, sister who ultimately saved her life. Yes, she saved Suellen's life, the life of the sister who hated her and didn't lose any moment to insult. She wanted Scarlett to live and ask for forgiveness, similar to as Rhett was asking in his feverish state of mind. In fact, Suellen no longer had disdain and hatred for Scarlett. Something changed in her heart and soul after Mammy's death and Scarlett's actions during the attack of criminals. Suellen was also deeply shocked by Ashley's death as it was clear that his son Beau now was an orphan and it was a question who would take care of him. Suellen even felt guilt for Ashley's death. The idea of Scarlett and Ashley's death was the most horrible nightmare she could ever have. Suellen was afraid of Rhett Butler as she saw how he loved Scarlett and was frightened that if her sister dies, Rhett will kill himself. She didn't want more tragedy to happen for the Butlers as they have already been through so much blood. She prayed frantically for Scarlett to survive, for Rhett not to go crazy, and for Ashley to have peace in Heaven with his beloved wife Melanie.

On the third day, Doctor Fontaine, who visited Scarlett every day after the accident, said that it would be better to transport Scarlett to Atlanta because only Doctor Meade was able to help her. Doctor Fontaine didn't have the drugs Scarlett was so desperately in need. He recommended contacting Doctor Meade urgently. Doctor Fontaine announced that in Scarlett's particular case, Doctor Meade would be of much better help, with his higher professionalism and experience of dealing with gunshot wounds, which he gained during the war, being one of the major doctors in the huge hospital of Atlanta, central in Georgia.

As a result, next day in the early morning, Will, Suellen, Prissy, Pork, Rhett, and Scarlett were on their way to Atlanta. They had to use two wagons: one for Scarlett with blankets and pillows inside on the bottom of the wagon to make Scarlett lie down as comfortable as possible and the other wagon for others. Suellen decided to accompany them and help Rhett take care of Scarlett. Rhett was with Scarlett each and every minute during the journey and tried to ease her transportation as much as he could.

Scarlett's transportation was immensely difficult. The wagon with Scarlett was moving slowly and stopped frequently. Suellen, Pork, and Prissy were in the second wagon. By the end of the day, they saw Atlanta on the horizon, and everybody felt great relief. Scarlett was supposed to be delivered to Doctor Meade's house because the Butlers old house on the Peachtree Street was empty for many months now and not ready to live in. Will sent the urgent telegram in advance for Doctor Meade. Rhett also sent telegram to his mother in Charleston explaining what happened to Scarlett and that he would be in Atlanta with his former wife for as much time as it was necessary.

Doctor Meade and his wife were shocked when they opened the door of their small house and saw Suellen O'Hara Benteen near the door and Rhett Butler carrying his former wife to the house. Rhett made his way to the bedroom which Mrs Meade prepared for Scarlett. Mrs Meade sent her thanks to God that she at least had time to prepare Scarlett's bedroom in advance after they received Will's telegram. Later they saw tired Will Benteen, Pork, and Prissy, who were also invited inside the house.

Having examined Scarlett, Doctor Meade said that the situation was relatively unstable and unpredictable in terms of the outcome because Scarlett seemed to be under high fever again which she could not make through for the past six days. Doctor Meade told Rhett and Suellen that he would use new special antipyretic medicine which would probably be effective in this specific case. He didn't make any promises.

"Doctor Meade, please save Scarlett. I cannot carry on without her…" Rhett asked.

"I will do everything I can." Doctor Meade replied.

"I will pay any money, will give you everything! Save Scarlett!" Rhett half pleaded, half ordered. "Please, make her return back to life."

Doctor Meade glanced at Rhett, two spots of color rising to his cheeks. "Mr Butler, I will try to help Scarlett. I will do everything possible to save her. It is, nonetheless, all I can say now. I have no experience to tell you otherwise and misguide you."

"Doctor Meade, we will do everything to help you take care of Scarlett. Well, if it is possible, both Rhett and I want to stay in your house… I am sorry for asking…" Suellen muttered numbly under her breath.

Doctor Meade glanced from one to the other. "Mrs Benteen, you and Mr Butler can stay here."

Suellen sent to him a grateful gaze. "Thank you, Doctor Meade."

"Thank you," Rhett nodded.

Both Meades asked about the accident at Tara and were thunderstruck about the story. They felt deeply sorry for Mammy's death and Scarlett's poor health. The news of Ashley's death, which has been spreading through Atlanta during the past days, hit both Meades especially hard. But what amazed them the most was the story Suellen told them about Scarlett's behavior in an attempt to save her by covering Suellen with her body. It was like an earthquake for the mind of Meades as they could not believe that Scarlett O'Hara can save somebody, if only herself and money, in this way!

Doctor Meade and Caroline Meade were spellbound Rhett Butler's treatment of Scarlett as Rhett was spending nights at the old doctor's house and slept on the floor in Scarlett's bedroom. Later Mrs Meade prepared for him a small bedroom used by servants, in which he could sleep for some time to get to Scarlett after he awakes. After Will returned back to Tara to children, Suellen was helping to take care of Scarlett and was sleeping in another small stuffy bedroom, the one which was previously occupied by the dead son of the Meades. The small house was very similar to how it looked in the war times when sometimes the old doctor took soldiers to his house from hospital. Pork and Prissy had to stay in the nearest hotel paid on the money Rhett gave them.

Atlanta was bathing in gossips and stories about the accident at Tara. As usual, the main heroes of the gossips were Rhett Butler, Scarlett O'Hara, and Ashley Wilkes who was dead. The attack on Tara was discussed everywhere, either in the street by the scandalmongers from the Old Guard or in the saloons and Belle's establishment. The news that Scarlett was dying at the Meades' house with Rhett nursing his former wife exploded in the brains of the inhabitants of Atlanta. It was something unbelievable for them.

Ashley's funeral became another sad event in hellish Atlanta. The funeral happened later than usual, on the fifth day after his death and next day after Scarlett was brought to Atlanta. The reason for it was that sheriff and his people took Ashley's body for their own inspection as they were investigating the case with the gang of criminals. Like on Melanie's funeral, the entire city came to Atlanta cemetery to give farewell honors and blessings to dead Ashley, Melanie's husband. Lots of people were whispering that Scarlett and Rhett became the reason of Ashley's death. However, this rumor was publicly refuted by India Wilkes, Mrs Meade, and Henry Hamilton on the funeral when Mrs Elsing said aloud that it was Scarlett and Rhett Butler who should be blamed for the tragedy.

"Oh my God, poor Beau! At first Melanie died, and now Ashley is dead… God help their son Beau! This is Scarlett and Rhett Butler who are responsible for this tragedy!" Mrs Elsing declared loudly and burst into hysterical cries.

"Mrs Elsing, it isn't true. Tara was attacked by the gang of criminals who were terrorizing other plantations and farms in Georgia. Ashley was killed in the accident. It is a tragedy for both Wilkes and Hamilton families. Scarlett and Rhett aren't responsible for this accident," Henry Hamilton proclaimed to the whole funeral procession.

"Rhett Butler and Scarlett O'Hara killed Ashley! He shouldn't have gone to Tara. He went there to her," Mrs Elsing accused again and added, "Rhett Butler should be happy now when Ashley is dead."

"Mrs Elsing, please hush up. It isn't Scarlett and Rhett's fault," India interjected.

"No, India, darling… You are in the greatest grief of grieves now. You don't see the truth when it is so clear and under your nose," Mrs Elsing parried.

"Mrs Elsing, it is just fate. Ashley's death is a tragedy, and we all are suffering, but don't say what is not truth. Scarlett helped our family so much after Melanie's death. Ashley, Beau, Aunt Pitty, and I were living on her money," India Wilkes left the crowd and approached Mrs Elsing who was standing in front of the funeral procession.

"India, you aren't yourself. You don't know what you are saying," Mrs Elsing exploded.

"Ashley went to Tara on Mammy's funeral and not especially to Scarlett. Tara was attacked in the evening after the funeral," India answered firmly.

"What India is saying isn't falsehood. Scarlett regularly deposited money on Beau's bank account in the past two years and helped Ashley run sawmills despite living on the other continent," Uncle Henry smiled at India and looked with condemnation at Mrs Elsing, silently cursing her as one of the oldest scandalmongers in Atlanta.

"I have heard that Scarlett saved her sister's life. I didn't expect it from her. She seems to have changed and grown up… But her former husband, Captain Butler is a scalawag… He should be happy because he murdered Ashley indirectly," Mrs Merriweather interjected.

"Captain Butler spends nights nursing Scarlett in my house. I haven't seen a man who cares so much for a woman, eminently his former wife," Mrs Meade purred. "Poor Ashley! Rest to his soul."

"Of course, he nurses her, but in the night he visits that disgusting house in Atlanta downtown!" Mrs Merriweather proclaimed in a high voice, her eyes shooting fire at Mrs Meade and India.

"Ladies, let's leave this topic of scope, please… We are on the funeral," Grandpa Merriweather countered and sighed heavily. "Poor Ashley… I could have never imagined that I would live more than this fine man. And poor Beau doesn't have mother and father. Oh my Lord!"

"Captain Butler should be blamed for this tragedy! He has always been around Scarlett when she lusted for Ashley. I suppose he took his revenge," Mrs Elsing continued her hysterical outburst.

"Mrs Elsing and Mrs Merriweather, immediately stop this charade on the funeral," Henry Hamilton commanded, his voice permeated with disapproval. Henry shot a dragger look on both old matrons, and they stepped down. "Ashley's death is a tragic coincidence."

"Rhett Butler didn't murder Ashley. Ashley was shot in the fire-fight. Mrs Elsing, it is sorrow that makes you say such wrong things. You will regret about it later. Ashley, rest your soul…" Mrs Mead defended Rhett and looked at Mrs Elsing in anger and conviction.

When Mrs Elsing and Mrs Merriweather's evaporated, the most incredible happened - Rhett Butler and Suellen O'Hara Benteen were recognized in the funeral procession at the cemetery. Rhett and Suellen left the crowd and put on Ashley's grave a huge basket of red roses like the one Belle ordered for Rhett to pay his honor for Melanie Wilkes.

On the farewell postcard with the flowers, India discovered "_To our dear Ashley who died defending the O'Hara family. The O'Haras and the Butlers are in profound sorrow and pain for your loss. Eternal memory and rest to your soul. Suellen, Rhett, Scarlett, Will._" The contents of the farewell postcard became well known in the whole town and served a new subject for gossips that were tightly enmeshing the city like a thick cobweb.

In a week after arrival to Atlanta, Rhett was sitting near Scarlett's bed and waiting when for her to call him. She was delirious under high fever and in her oblivion called for mother, father, Bonnie, Melanie, Annabelle, Isabelle, and Blanche, which puzzled Rhett.

As Rhett's gaze fixed on Scarlett and he took in her body and face, his breath was stolen by her beauty. Even in her sickness and restless oblivion she looked earthly and gorgeous. Her long jet-black hair sparkled from the fire in the hearth and lamps that had been hastily lit by Rhett. The rest of the room faded into greyness, like the rainy day, but Scarlett appeared bathed in a warm glow, as though all the remaining light in the room was as drawn to her as he was. God, how Rhett loved her and how desperately he wished her to be awake and recover.

"Mother… Mother, wait for me… please," Scarlett whispered.

"What, Scarlett, my darling… I am here," Rhett said her and tenderly kissed the palm of her right hand.

"Mother… I am coming … to you… and to Melanie," Scarlett muttered. She continued her journey in the feverish mindset.

Rhett leaned over her and kissed her forehead. His black eyes flashed with impatience, but he lowered himself into the chair near the bed.

He glanced away. "Scarlett, honey, please wake up for me… Don't go to your mother! I need you here!"

"Isabelle… Blanche… I want them…" she mumbled in her feverish oblivion.

"Scarlett… who are they? Calm down, my dear," Rhett took her hand and kissed her. He held the palm of her hand against his hard cheek.

"Bonnie… Mammy…. don't leave me," she pleaded.

"Scarlett, darling, how can I help you?" Rhett leaned down to her, very close to her face, and whispered.

"Isabelle… Blanche…" her lips produced very quietly.

Rhett leapt to his feet and leaner over her body. He bent his head down and again kissed her forehead, his heart beating faster. "My love, my only love," he whispered.

Scarlett wasn't calling for Rhett, but he didn't care. He only dreamed her to awake and to get better. He asked himself who were Blanche and Isabelle. He recalled that Scarlett had desperately wanted to see them. There were moments when Scarlett half opened her emerald eyes, but at those moments she didn't recognize people, her brain befogged with pain and sickness. Fear of her possible death made Rhett's heart beat frantically inside his chest.

One evening, Mrs Meade persuaded Rhett to sleep in the bedroom because he was exhausted and couldn't stand vertically, his hands were shaking. She appealed to Rhett for the necessity to rest for Scarlett's own sake, and, being completely done, Rhett made himself leave Scarlett's side. Mrs Meade stayed with Scarlett. Soon she saw that Scarlett's eyes opened slowly, and she looked at her in pain.

"Scarlett, darling, you are awake! It is wonderful! How are you feeling?" Caroline Meade said joyfully in a honeyed voice.

"I am … I am… Suellen… Rhett… Rhett…" Scarlett muttered under her breath in a very low voice.

Scarlett didn't understand whom she had seen in front of her. She didn't know that Mrs Meade had spent nearly three hours near her bed at that evening. The only thing Scarlett had desperately wanted was to say the truth about her sweet secret. Probably, she was afraid that she would die and it may become too late to reveal the truth.

"Suellen is fine. You saved her life. I am proud of you, my dear. Rhett was with you all the time when you were unconscious. He will be back soon," Mrs Meade said sweetly, happy to see Scarlett awake.

"Anna… Annabelle… Annabelle de Robillard… in Paris… if I die… Rhett… I love you…" Scarlett lamented.

Then Scarlett fell into her restful oblivion again. Blood was streamed down her face, from her nostrils, to her lips and then down her neck. Mrs Meade was shocked. Scarlett's awakening appeared to be only a lull before the dreadful storm.

As Mrs Meade saw the blood, she immediately stormed out of the room and called for Doctor Meade. Rhett heard her cries and woke up. He headed directly to Scarlett's bedroom. Suellen also rushed there.

"Doctor Meade! Doctor Meade!" Caroline Meade was calling. "Doctor Meade!"

"What happened?" Suellen cried out as she saw Mrs Meade running down the staircase.

"What happened?" Rhett's voice raised an octave. His voice betrayed his fear.

"It is Scarlett…" Mrs Meade murmured. She looked at Rhett and Suellen in shock.

At that time, Doctor Meade entered the living room and approached the staircase. "Caroline, what is going on?" he questioned.

"It is Scarlett…" Mrs Meade babbled. "You must come to her right now."

"I am coming," Doctor Meade snapped. He rushed upstairs. Mrs Meade and Suellen followed him.

Rhett's voice turned so low it vibrated inside his chest. "What happened?" he repeated as he followed Mrs Meade upstairs.

Mrs Meade's shoulders were trembling. "I don't know… There was blood on her face…"

"Oh my God!" Suellen cried out. Her face paled.

"Jesus Christ," Rhett muttered. His hands shivered. He stared at Mrs Meade and Suellen, so distant, his black eyes so filled with pain and sorrow that they could not endure his gaze.

"What are we going to do now?" Suellen's voice actually shook.

But Suellen was not the only one overcome with emotion shock.

Mrs Meade extended her hand. "We have to wait outside the room until Doctor Meade leaves the room."

Rhett's voice was a masculine stride of grace and power. He tried that his voice sounded steady. "Well, an agreement then. Let's wait."

Doctor Meade was examining Scarlett for around half an hour. After this he left the room. Looking at Rhett, he sighed heavily and said that Scarlett again had fallen into restless oblivion again and that the progress, which had been achieved in turning down the fever, had reversed. Doctor Meade said that chances of Scarlett's survival were rather slim. That statement made Rhett, Suellen, and Mrs Meade's hearts ache. Rhett was in despair, while Suellen and Mrs Meade started to pray God aloud.

Being in the living room, Rhett approached the table, took the bottle of whiskey, and poured out himself a glass. He awkwardly sank on the nearby sofa and put his head in his large hands. He wanted to forget and turned to his old habit of drinking to dull sorrow and pain. The rest of the evening Suellen spent with Scarlett, while Rhett was drinking whiskey in the living room. The Meades didn't condemn him as they had observed his tremendous internal strain and pain on his face in the last days. Rhett looked very tired with bloodshot eyes and hollow cheeks, and he was very different from that handsome, forever-mocking, arrogant Rhett Butler, whom everybody in Atlanta was accustomed to see in the streets. The Meades were sympathetic to this flustered man.

Mrs Meade approached Rhett, putting hand on his shoulder, and he opened his eyes, looking at her with his blank eyes with unshed tears. She understood that he was crying for Scarlett. Mrs Meade and Doctor Meade were staring at Rhett with pity and comprehension on how this man appeared to love his former wife. Never could they think that such a man as Rhett Butler could love his wife so deeply and unconditionally. They admired and respected him for this.

"Scarlett is dying… I killed her… I killed her… She said that she was dead inside… on the day of Mammy's funeral… She wanted to tell me something… when we were attacked… I even didn't have a chance to tell her… that I love her … more than myself and life itself," Rhett was crying in his drunken abyss.

"Mr Butler… Before Scarlett's condition worsened, she had awoken. She said that…" Mrs Meade was interrupted.

"What did she say? That she hates me? I know she hates me. I killed her. But I was dead after Bonnie's death… I divorced her because I thought that she had loved Ashley Wilkes, who is now dead. But I was mistaken, and she loved me two years ago… I lied to her that I didn't love her… I used her as a whore and left her alone in Charleston, running from her to numerous scarlet women whom I never loved… And I killed her love... I divorced her because I was a fool… I am a murderer… I killed Bonnie and Scarlett whom I loved more than myself and everything, but I killed them…" Rhett paused and lit a cigar. He inhaled deeply, threw the cigar on the floor, and took half-empty glass. He sloshed whiskey in his throat and chuckled, his black eyes absolutely blank.

"Mr Butler, please, calm down… Let's pray to God for Scarlett to live…" Mrs Meade's voice trailed off.

"Good God! Now Scarlett hates me. I am too late to tell her that I love her. I loved and love only her… My Scarlett…" Rhett was mumbling to

The old doctor and his wife were frozen in simultaneous shock and bewilderment from what Rhett has just said. Rhett wasn't thinking what he was saying and wanted to pour his pain and sorrow, which were eating his heart during the past several years, more accurately, since Bonnie's death. Rhett's mind traveled back to the past days.

"Captain Butler, please listen to me. Scarlett said that she loves you," Mrs Meade tried to console broken man. Rhett's voice made her heart beat shrink as she felt his pain and grief.

"Scarlett, please come to me… Don't go… What?" Rhett started to realize the sense of her words.

"She also said something about Annabelle de Robillard and about Paris. I don't understand it… I am sorry," Mrs Meade said in vague hope that it would appease him.

"She said that she loves me? Loves me? I am sure that she was delirious," Rhett said in disbelief.

"She was awake. And after she said this she lost conscience," Mrs Meade answered and smiled softly at him, then added, "She said this, Captain Butler. She will be fine. She is strong," Mrs Meade turned away to compose herself.

"Captain Butler… Rhett, please calm down. Don't lose your courage," Doctor Meade encouraged him.

"Scarlett will make it through," Mrs Meade said in an attempt to console Rhett. "Please, go upstairs to your room and try to rest, Mr Butler."

The rest of the evening was spent in a routine kind. Rhett didn't listen to Doctor Meade and continued to drink in the living room, being finished with two bottles of whiskey by the end of the evening. In the end, Rhett was severely drunk and unable to come to his bedroom by himself. Doctor Meade and Pork had to take Rhett's trembling body upstairs, which was not easy even for two men, given Rhett's masculine-built frame. Carrying Rhett upstairs took all their breath away from these two men. They carefully put Rhett on the bed that was quite small for his large frame as before the war the room was occupied by Doctor Meades' son who was killed in the battle for Atlanta. Doctor Meade covered Rhett with two medium-size woolen blankets – one on Rhett's chest and one on his legs. He cursed the fate that sent to Rhett Butler so many tragedies to survive through and left the room. Later Pork left for the hotel.

At the same time, Suellen was watching Scarlett and silently asking her for the atonement of her sins. The threat of Scarlett's death swept through her, and she felt drained of all emotions, excluding only one – hope for Scarlett's recovery. As Suellen saw Scarlett in the bed, ghostly pale and so slim, her heart pumped the blood through her veins in pounding surges. Strength was coming back to her when Scarlett was calling for their Ma and Pa, Mammy and at times even Suellen.

"My dear sister, please you must live! You must live for Rhett, for your daughters, for me, for all of us. I love you. I hated you so much… Please, forgive me..." Suellen was talking to Scarlett as if her sister had heard her words.


	26. Chapter 26

**Act II**

**Chapter 26**

**Rhett's proposal and his fiancée from Charleston**

Two so-called proper ladies were discussing Scarlett and Rhett's relations at the Butler house on the Battery in Charleston. They were _Silvia Ferdinanda Albertson Dawson_, Rhett Butler's fiancée, and _Rosemary Geraldine Butler_. Rosemary has just done unbelievable: she ransacked Rhett's private things in his bedroom and in the study. Fortunately for both ladies, she managed to discover some compromising facts of Rhett's biography. Both ladies were pleased and remained in elevated mood upon the discovery. They thought that they had a trump card in the game and the battle with Scarlett O'Hara.

"Rosemary, after all what you told me about Scarlett and Rhett, I feel that he is with her now. He loves her and not me. I understood it after that damned dinner, but now I have a clear picture what your brother feels," Silvia said.

"Rhett is just trying to resist himself in his desire not to think about Scarlett. But I want him to marry you, not to return to her. I will help you," Rosemary answered.

"How can you help me, Rosemary?" Silvia asked with interest in a shaking voice. "I want to be with Rhett because I love him… I adore him… He is the man I have always dreamt to be with and have children with."

"You see that Rhett seems to have a bastard son from a lady who is running a famous whorehouse in Atlanta. Remember the letter to that lady, Belle Watling," Rosemary began.

"Yes, Belle Watling. The boy is around fifteen and lives in New Orleans," Silvia elaborated.

"Correct, Silvia. We should use this on behalf of you," Rosemary purred in a honeyed voice. "We should open this secret to Scarlett. I am sure she doesn't know about it."

"Rosemary, my dear, you are worried about this boy, aren't you? He can take the Butler's money from you if Rhett claims him," Silvia asked.

"Rhett will never claim him. It is a scandal, you understand, darling. Rhett wants to restore his reputation in Charleston and in the whole South. So he will never do it. Silvia, we must tell nobody about this black spot in Rhett's biography. Only Scarlett must know," Rosemary tried to ease her concern.

"What are we going to do next? Should we learn where Scarlett lives and send a letter to her?" Silvia asked.

"Yes, we should. If she ever comes to the States, we will visit her and open her eyes to real Rhett. But I have heard from a relatively reliable source that Scarlett has been seen in Atlanta recently. I am sure Rhett can meet her. His departure was too unexpected and urgent, yet strange," Rosemary said.

"Besides, Rhett was excited about the trip. He is with her now," Silvia said sorrowfully. "I would love to have a look on this lady. According to the rumors, she seems to be beautiful and rich."

"Darling, she is a shame of her own family and has unladylike manners," Rosemary replied omnisciently. "She is rather extravagant."

"What do you mean, Rosemary?"

"Scarlett is not like we are. She was running a store and a lumber business, which is so unladylike," Rosemary answered and smiled sweetly. She reiterated: "Darling, she isn't a proper lady."

Silvia's eyes grew wide. "Running a lumber business and a store?"

"Yes, Silvia. You know how many gossips were spreading about her when she lived in Atlanta. And what Scarlett did to my brother… It is so disgusting… Her love for Ashley Wilkes… Rhett married her when he knew that she had loved Ashley Wilkes. I wonder how my brother could have married such a trashy woman," Rosemary ended her long speech with disgust and scorn in her low voice, while her face hardened.

"Anyway, Scarlett is my competitor, and she is dangerous," Silvia hissed.

"She can be very dangerous," Rosemary agreed.

"I want Rhett. I want to get married to him," Silvia wailed, her face screwed up in false pain. She lied and lied skillfully. "I love him, Rosemary. I cannot let him go back to her."

"Don't worry, darling. I want Rhett to live in Charleston with his family and have a proper wife. It will be for his own good. We will win," Rosemary smiled in a sweet manner to Silvia who responded with even a sweeter, more hypocritical smile.

Silvia smiled sweetly at her. "Thank you, Rosemary."

"You know, darling, I think we must visit Scarlett in Atlanta," Rosemary said thoughtfully.

"You think so, don't you?" Silvia asked.

"I am sure that we must do that," she said.

Silvia winked at her friend. "Then let's do that."

At the same time in Atlanta, during the whole night, Rhett was tossing on the bed. It was a restless night for him in the aftermath of heavy drinking after the worsening of Scarlett's condition. In the morning he awoke abruptly: one instance he was buried inside a cocoon of sleep, and the next instance he opened his, his every nerve alive, his heart striking a staccato beat against his breastbone. His head was heavy – it was a usual hangover. As he remembered what had happened yesterday with Scarlett, a strong nervous dread rattled in his head, sending shots of energy into his blood, into his muscles and limbs. He had to get up and know how Scarlett was doing. She couldn't be dead. Not his Scarlett.

Rhett sprang from the bed. He reached for his trousers on the chair and drew them upward in swift tugs. His limbs protested the movement. It was hardly surprising, after such an evening and a night. His hand closed around his white satin shirt and lifted it from the back of the chair. A button was missing from the collar, but he didn't care. Then he strode to the door and whipped it open. He made his way downstairs and called for Mrs Meade and Doctor Meade.

"Mrs Meade! Doctor Meade!" Rhett cried out. "Mrs Meade! Doctor Meade!"

"Mr Butler, you have already got up," Mrs Meade greeted him. She appeared from the parlor. "How are you?"

Rhett rubbed his cheek. "I feel terrible."

Mrs Meade smiled heartily. She wasn't going to scold him as she realized how much pain had flooded Rhett's burnt-out heart. "I can imagine."

"How is Scarlett?" he questioned. "Please don't tell me that she is dead."

"Mr Butler, don't even think so!" Mrs Meade clapped her hands. "She will live. She will make it through."

"What is your husband saying? Where is he?"

"Doctor Meade is at hospital now. He checked on Scarlett several time during the night. She is still having fever, but we hope it will be broken soon. Thanks God, there was no more bleeding."

"Where is Suellen?" Rhett asked in a soft voice.

"Suellen is sleeping now. She spent the whole night with Scarlett."

Rhett touched his forehead. "I will check on Scarlett now."

"Don't worry, Mr Butler," Mrs Meade warned. "I have been staying with Scarlett since Suellen went to bed. I just went downstairs to have a cup of tea. I will come back to her room now," she paused and gave an encouraging smile to Rhett. "As for you, Mrs Butler, I strongly recommend you to have breakfast now. It is ready. You only need to ask my maid Jane. You can find Jane in the kitchen."

Rhett shook his head. "I want to be with Scarlett."

"And you will be with her soon," Mrs Mead stated crisply. "But you must have breakfast now. You need a cup of coffee, probably even more than one. Coffee will cheer you up. You must be strong now for Scarlett's sake."

He drew his hand through his hair. "Thank you for your good care, Mrs Meade. I am sorry for yesterday's evening. I know I was very drunk," he paused momentarily. He glanced at the old woman with a silent apology and discomfort at his yesterday's behavior. "I am terribly sorry."

"Good God! You have nothing to be sorry for, Mr Butler." Mrs Meade smiled at him. "I understand everything."

"Thank you, Mrs Meade."

"Come now, Mr Butler," she continued. "You are going to the kitchen to have breakfast and then you will return to Scarlett's room. I am going to Scarlett now."

The day was spent in a routine kind. Scarlett was still in her oblivion, and Rhett, Suellen, and Mrs Meade changed each other in Scarlett's room. Next days were spent in the same kind. Time was passing slowly. In a week, Scarlett's fever was broken, and no more bleeding was observed. She was gaining strength gradually, and everybody was anticipating her to awake. Rhett resumed his old practice of staying at Scarlet's side as much as he could, helped by Suellen and Mrs Meade. Soon Doctor Meade was relatively optimistic about Scarlet's recovery and smiled to himself, watching Rhett's impatience, anxiety, and concern for his former wife's health. Now, the mood in the house wasn't as gloomy as it used to be a week ago.

Rhett wanted to tell Scarlett that he loved and loves her. When Mrs Meade told him what Scarlett said when she was awake, he felt his blood to boil with life and hope to feel peace and happiness again. Rhett realized that it was Scarlett who gave him peace and tranquility and was driving him to feeling that so-called "the core point of life." Only with her love he could feel free and bold, able to rise above the temporality and caducity of human existence and laugh at it. Yes, he will tell her that he loves her when she wakes up and he will ask her to marry him again. He didn't care about her living in France and having children from another man, as he assumed. He will accept her with all her life, her wishes and deals if she loves him. He will apologize for all what he had done in the past. He will do everything for her. He cannot lose her now.

Rhett also questioned whether Scarlett's promise to Mammy was to tell him that she still loved him. And why Scarlett mentioned Annabelle de Robillard in talking about her love for him. He had many questions to her, but only after love confession to his precious Scarlett.

In four days after Scarlett's first awakening moment, accompanied by dreadful bleeding from her nose, at last Scarlett opened her green eyes and found herself in the unfamiliar bedroom. She saw Rhett sleeping in the chair and, smiling to herself, called for him. "Rhett, what is it with me? What happened? Where am I now?" Scarlett babbled and closed her eyes.

Rhett rushed to her bed. "Scarlett, darling, you will be fine, my dear. You are awake.

She gave to him a slight nod. "Yes, I am."

"How do you feel?"

She stared at him, her green eyes sparkling with unshed tears. "It hurts a little… But I am fine… Where am I?" she whispered.

"You are in Atlanta at Doctor Meade's house. You were shot during the attack of these goddamned criminals. We had to take you to Atlanta as only Doctor Meade could help you, darling"

"Rhett, Suellen is alive? Did you find Lucie?" Scarlett asked in a weak voice.

"Suellen is fine, Scarlett. She is here with me. She was taking a good care of you, my pet. We found Lucie... She is fine..."

"It is good. I was afraid she was shot… Rhett… And Ashley, Will?"

Scarlett drew in a steadying breath. "Will is fine. But Ashley…"

"Say it, Rhett," she demanded in a fierce whisper.

"Ashley was shot by the criminal. I am sorry, Scarlett…" Rhett uttered and traced his right hand gently down the jaw line of her beautiful sleepy face.

The tears broke loose from her green eyes. "Ashley is dead?"

"Yes, he is. I am sorry."

"God's nightgown! So much blood in my life! Innocent blood… Poor Beau…" she said, numbness overcoming her.

The pain inside Scarlett grew until it vibrated, ready to snap. She blinked her eyes, hard. She hated the way this tragic news could make to desire weeping. With just a few words she was ready to cry herself to death. But she was too weak and she needed strength. She couldn't allow herself to panic now. Not now. She wanted to live and to recover. She felt terrible pain that made her heart collapse and took away her breath, but she wasn't ready to give up and be defeated. She will make it through. She was accustomed to pain, and she will survive even this time.

"Beau is with Henry Hamilton and India Wilkes now."

"India Wilkes will take care of Beau. Poor boy…" Her voice still raw with pain, and yet oddly calm. The pain was inside – in her heart and soul.

He nodded indefinitely. "I am sorry for what happened with Ashley."

"You are not guilty that you are alive while he is not," Scarlett said. Then she looked at Rhett. "Rhett, you look as though you were in hell."

"Yes, my darling. I was in hell when you were unconscious. I had to sleep on the floor, in the chair near your bed, and in the room for servants with the bed too small for my large frame," Rhett said. He let out a cheerful laugh. Then he smiled happily and genuinely at Scarlett's intensive glance. He didn't find any aloofness in her eyes. There was no fire and passion, but horrible blank expression was gone.

"Rhett, take your rest. I want you to sleep," Scarlett asked.

"Scarlett, I want to be with you," he retorted.

"Rhett, please sleep for me. Do it for me…" she insisted.

"Scarlett, I want to tell you something…"

Scarlett looked at Rhett. He looked so humble, so contrite, so vulnerable, as if he was holding out his heart toward her, cradled between his two broad hands. "What is it, Rhett?"

"Forgive me for everything. I love you, my sweet love," Rhett felt his pulse rising and heart hampering and jumping out of his chest. "My Scarlett, I love you."

"Rhett…" she breathed.

"I am not lying. I love you. I lied to myself, but I love you. I told you that I don't know when we were in the library. But I realized that I love you so much when I was so close to losing you," Rhett told to bewildered Scarlett with returned blank expression in her eyes.

"Rhett, I don't know… I cannot feel…"

"Marry me, Scarlett. I will do everything for you," Rhett said confidently. He separated the words, as if to emphasize their meaning.

He took Scarlett's right hand, squeezing her gently. He kissed her palm and fingers, but when he raised his head, he was taken aback by the same indifference and resignation, which he observed on his former wife's face all the time at Tara.

Scarlett swallowed heavily and glanced over him in the ceiling. "I told you I am dead… I cannot feel…"

"You can feel and you will, my pet. I promise you, and I always keep my word."

"Rhett, I cannot… I am dead…" she snapped. "I don't know…"

"You can, my dear. I couldn't, but I was running from myself. I love you. I know you love me. You are just too stubborn to admit it. And you are afraid of doing the first step. I am so sorry, Scarlett."

"Thank you, Rhett. I am sorry too." She didn't know why she said that.

Rhett dismissed her hand and headed to the door. "Please rest. I will tell Suellen to come here," he said at a doorway.

The green eyes met the black. She was looking at him with hope. "Rhett, please don't go."

Rhett stopped and glanced over his shoulder, his face showing recognition of what she asked. "I am here." He turned back and came back to her bed.

She was biting her bottom lip. "Give me more time."

Rhett smiled. "I can give you as much time you need, darling."

"Don't go… Give me your hand," Scarlett said and smiled, blankly but with understanding. She felt relief and hope, compounded by her fear and disbelief in miracles she was so accustomed to. "I don't know. I cannot feel. I just cannot feel."

Rhett took her hand in his large hands and squeezed it. He bent his head and tenderly kissed her palm. "You have all time you need. I won't press you. I am always at your disposal," Rhett replied and smiled genuinely. Then he kissed her on her forehead.

Scarlett was getting better and better each day. Suellen was happy for her sister and desperately asked for forgiveness. She felt obliged to Scarlett for her brave actions and sincere desire to save her sister's life. Scarlett was happy to finally have a truce with Suellen as she was fed up with their war, as well as with death and blood around her. Suellen was also pleased with their final reconciliation, and bitterness and apathy, which have been filling her heart completely since the war, started to decay.

Scarlett and Rhett's relations were still very complicated. However, aloofness and indifference, though still attributable to Scarlett's behavior relative to Rhett, have eased considerably. Her glances at Rhett were no longer perfectly blank, and he at times saw a glimmer of something new for him. It was not love, hate, or indignation, but rather abashment and anticipation for something. Rhett knew that Scarlett was awaiting and, perhaps, thinking about how to treat Rhett. She was very amiable with him, at times even excessively polite, but never told him that she loved him. However, she always asked him to stay with her for some time and looked disappointed if he was leaving her. They were talking about lots of different things, as it was in the first year of their marriage. Scarlett's fondness of Rhett was strengthening every day, and Suellen, who was observing them, smiled in anticipation when Scarlett would tell Rhett her sweet secret she had already managed to discover.

The rumors continued spreading. The Old Guard was awfully astonished when they realized that Scarlett saved Suellen's life, especially recalling the sisters' mutual hatred after Scarlett took Frank from Suellen many years ago. Rhett Butler's constant presence in the Meades house left a spacious room for gossips as people were guessing what sort of relationship this estranged couple had developed between them. The old doctor and his wife were frequently asked about the status of their relations and how Scarlett treated Rhett, but they tried to stay away from gossips and only smiled mysteriously receiving another question of curious townspeople.

These days became the misfortune for Belle Watling. She was laughing at herself hearing a new gossip about Scarlett and Rhett. Finally, she resigned to face that pushed Rhett to Scarlett for the millionth time in the years, Belle thought to herself. She was happy for Rhett, but felt resentment and was crying for her poor son Robert who would never know his father well. She also resigned to the final loss of Rhett Butler as a man.

"I wish you happiness, Rhett, darling… I hope she will be alive and love you again," Belle whispered into silence of her suite.

Around two weeks have passed since Scarlett, Rhett, and Suellen arrived at the Meades house. Scarlett remembered her promise to Mammy and, in the light of Rhett's recent confessions and apologies she started to feel deep and ever-gaining momentum taste of guilt to Rhett. Besides, she was feeling balanced and peaceful now when Rhett was always near her and always so nice. She loved him, but it was love mixed with meekness and fear, so she was waiting for further signs from fate and Heaven. One in the afternoon, Scarlett was very thoughtful, while Rhett was sitting on her bed and telling her the story about his adventures on gold diggings in California. Much to Rhett's surprise, she appeared to be far away from him in thoughts and interrupted him:

An instant's hesitation, and then Scarlett said: "I gave an oath to myself to keep silence. But I cannot do it anymore. I will talk tonight, Rhett."

He raised his brows expectantly. "What do you mean, my dear? I am at your disposal tonight, my pet," Rhett smiled softly.

She stared at him. There was a hint if some melancholy in her voice. "Tonight, Rhett."

"Agreed, Scarlett."

"I don't hate you. In fact, I love you. I loved you even when you were so cruel to me."

He braced his hands on his hips. "Scarlett, I was such a fool," he said sadly.

"But I am dead. And my love changes nothing," she replied and shut her eyes.

"Scarlett, being dead and loving simultaneously means that you are running from yourself," Rhett commented, with hope and, apparently, in triumph, to hear what she has said. The thrill of coming close to their reconciliation filled his body with warmth and desire for her to touch her and kiss her.

"Don't pressure me, Rhett Butler. You may start hating me if you know the truth… Tonight…"

"My pet, I cannot hate you. Scarlett, take your rest."

She bent her head. Eyes narrowing, she laughed mirthlessly. "No. You can hate me."

His black eyes turned up to her like a pair of anxious cornflowers. "Never, my love."

Rhett left Scarlett's bedroom and went to the living room, where he met Suellen. In the anticipation of the evening, Rhett decided to visit Belle to have a drink as he didn't see her for a while and left the Meades house in a good mood and tranquility. At the same time, Suellen was heading to the central telegraph of Atlanta to send the telegram to Scarlett's house in Paris and to _Countess Annabelle de Morville_ about what happened with Scarlett.

However, not always dreams come true. The grotesqueness of the situation was that Rhett Butler forgot about his life at Charleston and his fiancée who wasn't ready to give up so easily and break their engagement. Pandemonium was approaching the newly signed truce between Rhett and Scarlett as two proper ladies from Charleston decided to outthink Rhett and twist him around the finger. Rosemary Butler intended to have better understanding of Rhett's life and checked lots of his personal things in his study and bedroom when he was away. She found Scarlett's letters to him, his letters to Belle Watling with references to their son Robert, and lots of other papers, which helped them in their villainous plan. After receiving Rhett's telegram about what happened to Scarlett, Rosemary decided that the time for the realization of her and Silvia's plan had come.

A carriage stopped near the Meades small house at the end of the Peachtree Street. Two women got outside the carriage and knocked the door. One of them was a black-haired tall lady, extremely thin and dark-skinned, and the other one had brown hair, blue eyes, and normal body complexion. They both had the sweetest smile ever possible to imagine. They both were plain and didn't have an eye-catching appearance. They came inside the house. The first lady was Rosemary Butler, a proper lady from Charleston who hated her former sister-in-law so much that was ready to deprive her own brother of happiness, knowing that he actually loved Scarlett. She was accompanied by Silvia Dawson, who was engaged to the infamous Rhett Butler.

"Good afternoon, ladies. May I help you? Whom do you need?" Caroline Meade asked, standing at the doorway.

"Good day. I want to see Scarlett O'Hara. Is she here? I was told so," a lady with sweet smile said.

"I will ask Scarlett if she wants to see somebody. She was resting. How should I introduce you?"

"Tell her that her friend Silvia from Charleston is here to see her," Silvia smiled, stepping into the house.

Mrs Meade left the parlor and soon got back, showing Silvia to go upstairs. "Scarlett will meet you. Follow me, please. I will show you Scarlett's room."

"Thank you, Mrs Meade," Silvia said in a sweet voice.

Silvia tucked her shawl about her shoulders and followed Mrs Meade as the old woman was making her way upstairs to Scarlett's. Rosemary was waiting foe her in the parlor. Silvia nearly danced into the corridor and up the staircase. Her body hummed with confidence, with purpose, as if in that single visit she was going to restore power to her once lifeless limbs. As they approached the door of Scarlett's room, Mrs Meade retired to her own room, leaving Silvia alone. Silvia knocked at the door, and a melodic female voice said that she could come in. For an instance she stood outside, a look of anticipation and excitement crinkling the corners of her face. Then she came inside.

Silvia swept the room with her hazel eyes, catching every detail. Her eyes stopped at a young beautiful raven-haired woman in the bed. She was slim and very pale, but she was so beautiful that Silvia's breath was taken away for a second. The lady's green eyes locked with her hazel, and Silvia felt her knees trembling.

Silvia's mouth opened and then closed. Then opened again as she finally spoke. "Hello, Miss O'Hara. I am sorry for intruding, _Madame_ _Scarlett de Robillard… de Bréval_."

Scarlett looked at her interrogatively. "Good morning, Miss Silvia. I am sorry, but I cannot remember you. Have we ever met?"

"My name is _Silvia Ferdinanda Albertson Dawson_. I am Rhett Butler's fiancée from Charleston," Silvia hissed through clenched teeth as outrage and resentment overcame her.

"Who are you? I am sorry…" Scarlett trailed off.

Scarlett shut her eyes for an instant, gathering her composure. She needed patience. She needed composure. In this case she will be able to treat Silvia indifferently and politely. It was her weapon against that woman in front of her. Every movement counted. If Scarlett were to win now, she had to have her every wit and coldness at her disposal. She had to put on the one of the greatest performances of her life. She will do it, she mused. She inhaled and opened the eyes. She stared at Silvia.

"I am Rhett's fiancée, and our wedding is scheduled for March. Don't pretend that Rhett didn't tell you."

"I know nothing about your marriage with Rhett. How can I help you, Miss Dawson?" Scarlett said coldly, and not even a muscle shivered on her face.

"I wanted to ask you to keep your dirty hands off my fiancé. He is done with you and just wants to use again, as he did in the past. He likes using you for his own satisfaction. But you are nothing for him. He loves me and told me this many times," Silvia continued with sweet smile.

"Such a well-mannered lady," Scarlett grinned. Her green eyes narrowed to slits and turned jade green. "Well, you can take Rhett Butler, Miss Silvia. I don't have my hands on him." A loud, tearless laugh escaped her mouth.

"I don't believe you. You are a snake!" Silvia felt at loss.

Another waspish giggle followed. "I am a snake? Really?"

"I know you want another child from him. But this child will be bastard because he will marry me. He is mine! Another bastard… similar to that one in New Orleans… he is Rhett's son with Belle Watling."

"Please, you can have Rhett. You have blood oath from my side, Miss Silvia," Scarlett snapped nonchalantly.

"I hope so, Madame. I will fight for Rhett if I need," Silvia admitted.

"You have my blessings for marriage and successful childbirth. Now leave," Scarlett ordered with authority and smiled devilishly. She didn't want to show her real feelings to Silvia.

Scarlett's aloofness and her hell-like, hair-raising smile made Silvia so taken aback that she stepped away from Scarlett. She was shocked to see how beautiful Scarlet was despite being sick and even more terrified by her calm polite indifference and courtesy. It seemed like she didn't care about what Silvia had said. Her competitor was a strong player, as Silvia mused. Never before had she seen a person who is able to talk in an excessively nonchalant, cold tone. Nobody could do this so skillfully and in a natural manner, except for her fiancé, Rhett Butler.

"Thank you, Madame de Bréval. Take care," Silvia was at the doorway. Two ladies left the Meades house quickly in triumph, as they thought.

"Goodbye, Miss Silvia," Scarlett's reply followed.

Silvia gave to her a pestilent smile. "Goodbye, Madame."

After Silvia left her bedroom, Scarlett's face lost its blandness and blushed. She didn't feel pain or rage, and there was no emotional outburst or cries. Nothing like it followed. Rhett appeared to have a son from Belle, and Scarlett was determined to know whether it was true. She remembered that Rhett told her in the past that he used to visit New Orleans very often to take care of the boy to whom he was legal guardian. Scarlett was prone to believe Silvia. She was also thinking about her daughters, Blanche and Isabelle, who would have become bastards if _Marquis Mathieu de Bréval_ hadn't propose to her. What a heaven-sent proposal it was for her at that time. Scarlett became completely indifferent in her thoughts and resigned to her fate of not being with Rhett. Distant physically or emotionally from Rhett, being reserved and remote, removed and estranged was what she wanted so frantically now. She just thought that she again was a fool to believe him. What a brute he was in substance! Rhett Butler was a lowdown cad, skunk, and incorrigible man!

In the evening, when happy Rhett went to Scarlett in anticipation to see her smile and sincere greetings, he again had to face a creature of coldness with icy expression on the indifferent face. It was again polite indifference and courtesy. Did they only pretend to quit the games? What did happen with her? Rhett was shocked. He didn't want to continue a cat-and-mouse game without any ultimate winners. He was tired of everything. He was frustrated and felt dismayed.

"Scarlett, my darling, what happened? How are you? I have missed you," Rhett asked carefully.

Scarlett stared at him with a coldly lethal smile that could cut flesh. "You missed me? Are you sure, darling?" she scoffed. "I am perfectly fine. You don't need to worry."

"Yes, I am sure, Scarlett."

Her eyes were vague, vacant. "Who knows," she purred in a care-free manner.

"For God's sake, Scarlett, please tell me what you wanted to tell me tonight."

"A fool searches for a greater fool to find admiration," Scarlett said apathetically.

"What happened, Scarlett? Darling, tell me. Why are you so alienated from me?"

"Rhett, I am sorry, but I am a little sad because I remembered the old day time, my mother and my father," she said with smooth politeness.

Scarlett lifted her eyes to him and smiled. It was again the same devilish smile. There was again the blank expression in her emerald eyes that turned so jade green now. It was an unusual color of her eyes, which Rhett wasn't sure to remember from the past. Rhett staggered back in horror from her aloofness. Did jade green color of her eyes mean her aloofness? Rhett didn't understand his former wife anymore and couldn't predict her actions.

His brain was paralyzed for a moment. Normally Scarlet's eyes were pale green without a touch of hazel, starred with bristly black lashes and slightly tilted at the ends. When she was furious, her eyes may temporary change their color from pale green to dark green. In usual state her eyes were pale green.

As Rhett's brain resumed working, Rhett recalled that her magnificent eyes could indeed temporary change color to jade green, but earlier it happened very rarely. Scarlett's eyes turned jade green in the past when Scarlett had been doing something new for her and it was very hard for her. The color of her emerald eyes also shifted to jade green when she was artificial and restrained in her emotions and when she had to put too much effort to play a role. The latter usually didn't happen with her in the past as she had always been herself and her emotions were very easily readable from her face. But it was the old Scarlett. Scarlett changed within those years she was in Europe. She learnt to hide her emotions and to wear that mask of polite indifference and courtesy, French courtesy. Did the Robillards teach her that game? Or did she teach it on her own? Or did Rhett teach her to behave as a polite stranger? He didn't know, but felt that it was he who had taught her this lesson.

Jade green color also meant Scarlett's true passion, vehement and wild, which Rhett had observed in full force and effect only twice – throughout the night in Charleston when he had left her in the early morning and put the sighed divorce papers on the bedside table and throughout the night of Ashley's birthday party when he had forced himself on her and she responded to his endearments. Both nights he was overindulged with alcohol and the fact that her eyes had turned to another tone slipped from his mind. But now he remembered it.

Unfortunately, now her eyes were jade green not because of her passion and desire for him. Now they were so jade green because she had to put too many efforts to hide what was troubling her. It wasn't difficult for her to play in the game of polite indifference at Tara, but it was very difficult for her now. What did happen with Scarlett? Why was it so for her now?

Scarlett continued smiling like a devil. "Why are you staring at me so?"

"Scarlett, what did you want to tell me?" Rhett inquired. He decided to be very careful.

"Rhett, It is so complicated. It is very complicated," she answered. Some warmth came back in her jade green eyes. She managed to somehow put this warmth on her face to mask her anger and disdain.

However, Rhett saw that something was different. The blood in his veins was frozen for an instance as he glanced at her cold smile. "Darling, I know. It will be alright."

"Maybe yes maybe no."

"You wanted to keep your promise to Mammy. You can be happy, my pet. Tell me what you wanted," he asked again.

"Rhett, I like you when you are nice," Scarlett said with a marble-hearted expression on her face. Her eyes changed color and were now green, as usual.

He smiled at her. Looking at how her eyes changed color, he concluded that she had relaxed. "I can always be nice if it is what you like in me."

"I doubt it."

His brows arched as a half moon. "Why?"

"I am just stating the fact, given our past experience."

"Scarlett, I agree that you have foundation to doubt it." Rhett sighed heavily and shut his eyes.

Scarlett was strained. "I have many facts to doubt it." She clenched her jaw, the muscles of her face tightened. Her voice droned on at the back of his consciousness. "But it all is so complicated. Inwardly I am dead…"

Rhett's black eyes flashed. He gave to her a caressing glance. "Scarlett, my dear, you are not dead… It will be alright over time, my pet. You and I will make it alright."

Scarlett was grateful to God she was able to disguise the real reason for her nervousness. She didn't have any right to be candid with Rhett so far. She had to wait and see. Talking about something like the cold weather and the pleasure of the simple food was what she could allow herself to talk with him. In the meantime, these simple topics could ease in the air between them. Anyway, it would be a dangerous ease, the kind she had sought so hard to avoid until now when she nearly died after being short by the criminals.

She turned her head away from Rhett. She couldn't make out his face, but she could feel the weight of his eyes, drenching her with the intensity of his a gentleman never tells emotion. That magnetic allure of his, pulling at her, drawing her under his spell, was very difficult to resist. But she was able to do it. She was making a difficult performance.

She squeezed her eyes shut. "No, you won't. And neither will I."

"Why, Scarlett?" Rhett asked.

She shook her head as though in disbelief. "It is very simple. I wouldn't be so sure that we will succeed."

"I promise," Rhett said and kissed her in her lips. He decided not to pressure her. He will wait, he mused. "I can promise it. You know I always keep my word."

"On the contrary, you are splendid only at talking and promising, but not at keeping your word in reality. How the devil do you learn to promise so naturally and don't keep your word?" She spoke lightly, quizzically, and her insult even didn't sound as a scoff.

His voice was firm and sure, his eyes did not betray any hint of his suspicions. "I didn't keep my word to make you happy in our first marriage. I know."

"It sounds as if it really matters." She let out a chilling laugh.

Rhett forced a blurred smile at her. "It matters for me, Scarlett," he spat. Then he turned around. Spinning on his heel, he headed for the door, his footsteps steady and confident.

"I am glad it matters," she said in a softer voice.

"It matters," he repeated. "I assure you." And then he opened the door and left.

Scarlett was healing and getting better every day. In accordance with her plan, she wanted to leave the States approximately in a week, next Monday, because otherwise she would be unable to spend Christmas with her children. It meant that on Saturday she would leave for Charleston, while now it was Tuesday. When she told Rhett that she was leaving, he offered her to leave together to Europe, but she responded that it would be better to postpone their joint trip. She explained that she needs to come home before Christmas and promised to keep in touch with him. Each time he asked about what they would do, Scarlett remembered about Silvia Dawson and Rhett's son from Belle. She felt angry and hurt, but, having a strong self-control over her emotions, which proved to be a very good tool for her, she managed to somehow mask her anger. She didn't believe Rhett any more. She couldn't trust him.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

**Leaving Atlanta behind: meeting with Belle and reconciliation with Suellen**

Scarlett was lying in her bed when Rhett entered the bedroom. She was abstracted in her thoughts and didn't remark as he came inside. Rhett felt anxious and concerned. He didn't understand what was on with his former wife.

"My pet, what are you hiding from me? I see that you are trying to pretend that nothing happened, but even this mask doesn't help you. I know you too well," Rhett demanded Scarlett to answer.

Scarlett turned her head to face him. "I told you that everything is fine. In substance, nothing befell," she responded and smiled playfully.

"What is brothering you now? I am no fool to believe you despite the fact that you are play-acting very well for everybody, but not for me, Scarlett."

She held her breath. "Nothing bothers me, Rhett." She was stubborn as usual.

"I know you too well. Is it connected with your life in France? Or did you hear any gossips that made you upset, my pet?" he asked mildly, understanding that she hides something. He hoped that it were not the rumors regarding his life in Charleston.

Scarlett took a deep breath. She was keeping her hard truth inside, and it harmed her, harmed her heart and soul. She narrowed her eyes and touched her temples as nervous tension strengthened. As she began to speak, her voice sounded rather steady. "I am fine and nothing happened. Rhett, please don't pressure me. In this case my temper won't boil."

Rhett's black eyes flashed. "I don't want you to be a martyr."

Scarlett took in his words and felt a myriad of sensations sweep her body, but didn't think to show her true sensations. Feeling too disjointed to talk to Rhett, she averted her eyes. "And I am not," she assured.

"I don't think so," Rhett contradicted.

Scarlett watched in silence as he continued to stare at her without even blinking. "You may think whatever you like and want," she declared.

"I see that something is tormenting you deep inside." He was bored with the conversation. It was time for him to leave her alone. He didn't want to make a scandal.

Scarlett raised her voice. "I said I am fine." A clear hint of finality was evident in her voice.

Rhett headed to the door. He looked back over his shoulder and said tonelessly. "I am glad you are fine, sweetheart." With that he slammed the door behind him.

As Rhett left, Scarlett was laying in her bed, reliving every minute of their conversation. She felt anger at him and even guilt as she hid her emotions from him. This combination of feelings in her heart made her turn her head into her pillow and weep. She wanted to scream out her frustration, but she couldn't do it as she was in the Doctor Meade's house. After a long, long moment, she gave a savage curse. She felt like something was strangling her. Her tears dried and she looked at the wooden ceiling.

"Some oaths should be forgotten," Scarlett whispered into silence. "I took an oath to protect the secrets of mine. Sorry, Rhett and Mammy. Go to your illegitimate son with Belle," she mused in her mind, not aloud. "You used me like a whore. You have always being lying to me. How hypocritical you are - having the fiancée in Charleston and talking to me about love and proposing me! Rhett Butler, I will teach you a lesson for all your deception and my humiliation. I give blood oath that I will teach you. I should also learn about his attitude to children. I remember that he wasn't ready to risk his heart again. But how many children you appear to have! Your illegitimate children, Rhett Butler! Damn you, Rhett Butler."

Rhett saw that something had changed, but he couldn't understand exactly what had happened and she hadn't responded to all of his questions. However, not willing to pressure her and to lose her, he was very cautious, attentive and polite. He just decided to wait and see. And, of course, he couldn't imagine what Scarlett was planning. Rhett didn't contact Silvia and didn't know what Silvia and Rosemary visited Scarlett in Atlanta. He decided to talk to Silvia once he gets back to Charleston, although he didn't know how he would do it. For now it looked like he had two fiancées.

Scarlett also needed to visit Henry Hamilton and India Wilkes. She was shocked by Ashley's death and felt guilty for it. Before her visit to Henry, she transferred more money on Beau's account from her account in the Bank of Savannah. She also visited her store to check it in order to transfer the right for the store on India Wilkes.

"Who will be Beau's legal guardian now, Uncle Henry? Is it India Wilkes?" Scarlett asked.

"Yes, Scarlett. You are right. I have already prepared the necessary documents. We are deeply shocked by Ashley's death. Poor Wilkes family! In the first place, Melanie died, now this accident with Ashley… Beau is an orphan now…" Henry Hamilton responded sorrowfully.

"Uncle Henry, I am completely blown away. I feel guilty because he was killed at Tara when those damned criminals attacked us. Damn them! Damn Georgia's police that couldn't have arrested them before they attacked us!" Scarlett said in a shaking voice. Her sorrow was clearly written on her face.

"Scarlett, it isn't your fault. Please don't say so. Both India and I, together with Mrs Meade, contested the rumors about it publicly during Ashley's funeral," Henry Hamilton said sorrowfully.

"Thank you, Uncle Henry. I am sorry that I didn't attend Ashley's funeral," Scarlett added with gratitude for Henry's support.

"You were sick. Don't worry, everybody knows about it. I am glad that Rhett and Suellen attended the funeral," the old lawyer said. His voice was edged with unhidden gratification for the fact.

"Uncle Henry, I was thinking about the mills… Please, try to sell the mills and deposit the sale proceeds on Beau's account," Scarlett's voice resonated again.

"I am doing it now. I can sell the mills next week to one Yankee from Philadelphia who is expanding his business. He offered a good price for the deal, despite the poor state of the business after Ashley's mismanagement for many years," Henry looked at Scarlett attentively, asking in his gaze for the approval of the ongoing deal.

"I don't mind selling them to Yankees. Nobody will be able to run them now. This is the best decision," Scarlett stared at Henry with agreement to proceed to the deal.

"Thank you, Scarlett. How do you feel? Rhett told me what happened with you. I also know that Doctor Meade saved you," Henry stated inquiringly.

"I feel much better now. Mrs Meade and Doctor Meade are so pleasant people! I like them and feel obliged to them, Uncle Henry."

"Scarlett, how are your relations with Rhett? He was very happy when I saw him last week," Henry barked.

Scarlett raised her chin. "With Rhett everything is very complicated. Frankly speaking, it has never been easy between us."

Henry Hamilton gave to her a look of understanding. "I know, Scarlett. Rhett Butler is a very unusual man, like you are a very unusual lady."

"Probably, you are right, Uncle Henry."

Henry smiled at her. "I am right, young lady."

"In addition, I am a widow again. I will be fine, don't worry," she said, looking away from Henry as her train of thought went to Silvia Dawson and Belle Watling.

"As an old bachelor, I can confess that you both are quite a dramatic couple. I hope it works out for you," Henry wished wholeheartedly.

Scarlett stared at him. "We will see, Uncle Henry. Rhett doesn't know what he wants in his life. He seems to lose himself. I am off to Europe on Monday."

"Thank you for the money for Beau. I also think that it is a great idea to give India your shop. She will be able to receive regular income and take care of Beau. Thank you, Scarlett," Henry Hamilton hugged Scarlett.

"It is alright. I love Beau and will take care of him. I gave my word to Melanie," Scarlett said and embraced Henry again. She liked the old lawyer and his support.

Scarlett visited Beau and India and gave to her sincere condolences for the loss. India was delighted to see Scarlett and didn't blame her for Ashley's death. India also was very grateful to Scarlett for the money she provided for Beau on his bank account and for the transfer of the ownership of the store to her. India and Scarlett agreed that in the summer Scarlett would take Beau with her in Europe. Two former enemies reconciled, and both were happy with it.

Scarlett also visited the Oakland Cemetery. She visited Melanie, Ashley, Frank, Charles, and Bonnie's graves. How many people she lost in her not long life! Near Bonnie's grave she spent a lot of time talking to her and asking for forgiveness for not being a good mother to her blue-eyed angel.

"Bonnie baby, my precious angel, I remember you and will always love you. Forgive me for being such a bad mother to you. It is my cross for the whole life… I love you… I also love Blanche and Isabelle… It is so pity that you cannot see your small sisters. I promised you to be a good mother to them. I am keeping my word. Thank you, God, that I have my precious daughters!" Scarlett said to herself near Bonnie's grave. "Rhett, you are not with me here. We lost our Bonnie… Baby… We love you with your daddy…"

"Dear Ashley, you were a real gentleman whom I loved as a friend and brother. Forgive me for causing your pain when I rejected your marriage proposal. Forgive me for bringing you at Tara to attend Mammy's funeral. I will take care for Beau. I promise. Sleep peacefully," Scarlett mused near Ashley's grave.

Scarlett went to Melanie's grave. She leaned over the grave and shut her eyes. "Melanie, my dear friend, I love you. You were the best friend I have ever had. Forgive me for being late to recognize it. I remember my word to you. Beau will be fine, I promise," she said in her mind.

Scarlett came to Frank's grave. "Frank, please forgive me if you hear me now and if you can. I am very guilty for taking you from Suellen. You loved her and not me. I took advantage of your money. I made you unhappy," she mused.

Next she approached Charles Hamilton's old grave. "Charles, excuse me for being such a foolish girl to marry you only because I was jealous of Ashley. Forgive me for making you unhappy if I did it. I know you loved me, but I didn't appreciate it. I used your love against you, and I didn't love you, and then you died. If you hear me, please forgive me. Sleep peacefully," she speculated in her mind.

It was Friday when Rhett said that he had some deals to do in Savannah and would meet Scarlett in Charleston on Saturday. Rhett wanted to make a surprise for Scarlett. Now he could leave her for one night as she felt much better. In fact, Rhett was happy, despite seeing that something was strange in Scarlett's behavior.

It was a real luck for Scarlett, and she decided to use it. Scarlett realized that if she visits Belle Watling on Saturday morning, before she goes to Charleston, Belle won't have time to contact Rhett. As a result, she found herself in the downtown of Atlanta in the early morning of Saturday. She went directly to Belle's establishment and asked a girl on the first floor, Flore, for her mistress.

Scarlett smiled. "Good morning."

"Good morning," Flore said.

"I need to talk to Belle Watling," Scarlett spelled out loudly for the girl.

"Miss, it is so early. It is Saturday. Besides, are you sure you aren't mistaken in the address?" the girl asked in astonishment, looking at Scarlett from her feet to the crown.

"No, I am not mistaken," Scarlett said in a dry tone of voice. She raised her chin. "I need to meet Belle."

"How can I introduce you to her?"

Scarlett fixed her eyes at Flore's face. The corner of her bottom lip twitched in not quite a smile, but the shadow of one. "Please tell Miss Watling that my name used to be Scarlett O'Hara Butler," Scarlett announced loudly, her eyes sparkling with challenge.

"Alright, Miss. I will ask Belle."

"Thank you very much."

"Please, wait here." Flore looked dumbfounded when she heard the visitor's name. Scarlett knew that Rhett always visited this brothel and expected that Rhett's surname would have such a deep-toned effect.

The girl returned and accompanied Scarlett to the second floor directly to Belle's suit. When Scarlett entered the room, she saw Belle who looked sleepy and astonished. The tense audible silence followed when two women looked at each other intensively, emerald eyes with challenge and Belle's brown eyes with frank curiosity. Belle met Scarlett in her red silky morning dress which she managed to somehow put on very quickly after Flore had knocked at the door and had reported that such a special visitor was waiting downstairs. Belle studied Scarlett's appearance and admired her fashionable flowered-trimmed muslin _Dolly Varden dress_, with a flowered polonaise overskirt gathered up and draped over a separate underskirt. She also appreciated the beauty of Scarlett's flat, forward-tilting, broad-brimmed straw hat trimmed with flowers and ribbons of blue, red, dark-blue, and dark-green colors. She noticed that Scarlett was pale and very slim, which she attributed to her recent sickness, and, glancing at her with all her scrutiny, Belle smiled as she comprehended again that it was impossible to forget such a woman.

Soon Flore returned. "Mrs Butler, Miss Watling is coming," she said.

"Thank you," Scarlett responded.

Belle stood in the doorway. She heard the voice once that diamond was nothing but coal that had been compressed for many years. She could feel her own heart withering to blackness, slowly turning into cold cinder. She wasn't sure if she should enter the room or stay behind. What did Scarlett want from her? Why did she come in this early hour to her establishment? In the meantime, Belle knew that she had to meet her because if Scarlett was visiting her today, it meant that something serious and urgent had made her come. Belle inhaled and stepped forward into the room.

Belle forced a smile. "Good morning, Mrs Butler." She paused in uncertainty.

"Good morning, Miss Watling," Scarlett said humbly. "It's good to see you."

"Sorry, I don't know your new name. How do you feel? I heard the rumors in the town about what had happened with you," Belle broke off the silence.

Scarlett inhaled. "I hope I am not intruding into your plans. My new name doesn't matter. I am perfectly fine. Thank you."

Belle's brows knit in an expression of concern and uncertainty. "Why did you come here?"

"I have a question to you," Scarlett started. She decided to get right to the point, her eyes becoming of deep-green color in anticipation.

"What kind of question, Mrs Butler? I am at your disposal, but I am very surprised," Belle blinked sleepily, fixing her brown eyes at Scarlett's face. She took a step towards Scarlett.

"Where is your and Rhett's son? Is he in New Orleans?" Scarlett said with authority, yet indifferently, even excessively indifferently, Belle admitted for herself.

Belle bit her lip and stepped back in fear. She closed her eyes in concern. "Who told you about?" Belle mumbled. She was shocked. She didn't expect Scarlett to come and ask such questions. She and Rhett kept their secret for many years, and nobody seemed to know about it.

"It doesn't matter. Is it true? Has Rhett claimed the boy? How old is he?" Scarlett asked again.

Belle's mouth stopped. Her lips worked, but no sound came out. Finally she produced something unclear and relapsed into silence. Then she muttered numbly: "Mrs Butler… I am…"

"I know the truth, and I simply need confirmation from you. No need to deny. No need to persuade me to leave. I simply need a confirmation." Scarlett turned her face up to his, her green eyes glinting.

"Does Rhett know that you came here today?"

"No, he doesn't," Scarlett said in his cheeriest tone. "He is not in Atlanta now."

"I see."

"Miss Watling, I came here not to insult you," Scarlett reassured Belle. She observed that every tissue and muscle of Belle's body was strained beyond endurance. "Please, don't be afraid of me."

"I… understand…" Belle stammered.

"Where is your and Rhett's son?" Scarlett pressed on. "Is he a boy whom Rhett visited in New Orleans?"

There was no need to deny. The only that was left for Belle was to reveal truth. Belle stayed silent. Her spirit seemed to withdraw into her body, and the silence grew. For a minute nobody spoke. Belle knew that she had to tell the truth. "Yes," Belle finally said. "My son Robert lives in New Orleans."

"How old is the boy?"

"He is fifteen years old."

Scarlett let out a sigh. And then she cast Belle a look of understanding. "He is a young man," she said.

"Yes," Belle nodded.

"Is Rhett his guardian?"

"Yes," Belle again nodded.

"Does the boy know that Rhett is his father?"

"No," Belle shook her head in negative response. "You know that Rhett cannot claim my son."

"Cannot claim his own son, can he? What a lowdown skunk he is!" Scarlett exclaimed coldly and looked at Belle with sympathy. "Miss Watling, I understand you even more than you can imagine. Rhett always sleeps with women and runs away, like it happened with me after Ashley's birthday a long time ago when he forced himself on me and I got pregnant. But I lost the baby when I fell down the stairs. You should know this. I presume Rhett told you a lot about our life."

"I remember this story. Please, accept my personal condolences to you for your loss."

"Thank you, Miss Watling."

"I don't demand Rhett to claim my son," Belle babbled faint-heartedly.

"Rhett is a man, and he must be responsible for his own actions, but he is not. He disgraces himself as a man. Not a gentleman, because Rhett has never been and will never be a gentleman. But as a man," Scarlett mused, her eyes shooting determined fire.

"Mrs Butler, I am sorry. You shouldn't have known about my son," Belle said.

"Why shouldn't I have known?" Scarlett's lips twisted sardonically in a semblance of smile. "Is it so because Rhett Butler doesn't want me to know?"

Belle gave her a half shrug. "Please, don't blame Rhett. He loves you. I know this for sure."

"Rhett doesn't know what love, respect, and responsibility are. His love is too much related to mortification, mocking, devil-may-careness, and other negative things. His self-esteem and ego are evidently too great to love somebody. He is just such a cad to people who care for him. I know that deep in your heart you agree with me, Miss Watling."

"Mrs Butler, I am sorry…" Belle was too effortless in her talking that Scarlett had compassion to her.

"You don't need to apologize for what you aren't responsible. I will tell Rhett to claim the boy. He will do it. I promise you to do my best for it. Now I will see myself out," Scarlett's eyes narrowed and changed color to jade green, revealing her determination and condemnation of Rhett's actions.

"Thank you, Mrs Butler. However, you don't need to ask Rhett."

"I will let him know what I think about this matter."

"What should I tell him?" Belle asked as she forced herself to compose and relax.

"You may not tell Rhett that I was there. It is up to you."

"I will have to confess that you had come here."

"Miss Watling, I won't tell Rhett about my visit," Scarlett said. "But I will tell him to claim the boy and I will insist on it." Scarlett jerked back from Belle and was now standing at the doorway.

"Mrs Butler, there is no need to demand Rhett to claim Robert."

Scarlett let out a tired sigh. "I will do it," she parried. "I am leaving Atlanta today. Take care of yourself and your son, Miss Watling."

"Thank you, Mrs Butler. Take care too," a faint smile flashed on her blushing cheeks as Belle knew that in fact Scarlett had a strong influence on Rhett. Belle admitted that, perhaps, Rhett would claim his own son. She began to respect Scarlett.

"Goodbye, Miss Watling," Scarlett said. She turned around and left the room.

Scarlett left Belle's establishment and returned to the Meades house to have breakfast. However, before the breakfast, she hurried back to her own room and wrote a letter to Annabelle to send it in France before leaving for Charleston.

_My dearest Annabelle,_

_As you know from my telegram that Suellen sent to you several days ago, an accident happened at Tara and I was very sick. Now I feel much better. I will tell you in details once I arrive in Paris. By the way, we reconciled with Suellen, and I am really happy about it._

_I am boarding the ship in Charleston on Monday. I will write you once I reach England._

_Rhett told me that he still loves me and proposed to marry me. However, as I know from the sources of high reliability, he has a fiancée in Charleston and in March plans to marry her. Rhett Butler is playing a game, but I will also play._

_Besides, he has a son with Belle Watling, a boy of fifteen years old. Belle confirmed me it in person._

_He has always lied to me. What a brute and scoundrel! I still feel something to him, but somebody should teach him a lesson. I will do it. But at first I will try to understand what his thoughts are about having more children. I don't trust him._

_Thank you for the herb powder you gave me. It may be useful._

_I love you and children. I miss you all so much. Hug and kiss them for me._

_Yours faithfully with all my warmth in heart and soul,_

_Scarlett_

At the breakfast, Scarlett warmly greeted both Meades and Suellen who decided to stay with Scarlett up to her departure for Charleston. Scarlett bought flowers for Mrs Meade and left for them a banking check for a tidy amount of money. At first they rejected her money, but Scarlett persuaded them to take it, stating that they could use a part of it for the patients in the local hospital. Scarlett was as capable of tricking people as usual. In reality, she wanted the Meades to take money not only because she felt grateful to them, but also because she knew that Mrs Meade would tell all old cats of Atlanta that Scarlett instructed them to use a part of the money for poor patients. Scarlett liked grand gestures from her shoulder to others, and it was just because she was the same old Scarlett somewhere deeply inside. Indeed, some things never change.

"Mrs Meade and Doctor Meade, I would like to thank you both for all your help. You saved my life," Scarlett said frankly and smiled softly.

"Scarlett, darling, it is all right. You have nothing to thank us for. It is our pleasure. You have grown up. You became a great lady," Doctor Meade commented with a smile.

"Thank you, Doctor Meade. But don't exaggerate. I have never been a proper lady like my mother Ellen," Scarlett objected playfully with a broad smile. "She was a true Robillard."

"A true Robillard, Scarlett?" Suellen laughed outright and continued rather audibly, "I am happy to know that a typical Robillard lady is always beautiful, even exotically beautiful; bold and cool, even bellicose; extravagant and always widely spoken about. You and Annabelle are the best examples of the Robillard ladies. And the ideal husband for such an inimitable lady is a well-known dandy, a renegade, and the Devil incarnate."

Suellen laughed again, and, to her surprise, the Meades joined her sister. Scarlett returned the smile, sincere and warm, and added: "No, my darling, our mother was the true lady, while Annabelle and I are… well… much bolder examples of a lady."

"Something like this," Suellen looked at her sister with a good deal of agreement in her eyes, and said breathlessly: "I agree, but it is not quite the whole story."

"Yes, there is also a story about the ideal husbands for such ladies. In other words, Sue, you mean gentlemen who are Lord Byron's prototype. Or, maybe, you mean Beau Brummell's adherents, don't you?" Scarlett raised her brows, her green eyes sparkling with the mixture of childish fervor and inoffensive irony, even boredom. Yes, she indeed changed because in the past she was incapable of any irony – she simply didn't understand it. Scarlett smiled and licked her dry lips.

Suellen raised her browns. "Who is Beau Brummell?" she inquired, not being embarrassed.

"My dear, it is the pure English prerogative to know about this gentleman. Mr Brummell was an iconic figure in Regency England and a friend of the Prince Regent, later the _King George IV_. He was the epitome and the arbiter of men's fashion. Together with Lord Alvanley, Lord Mildmay and Lord Pierrepoint, Beau Brummell was dubbed "_the Dandy Club_" by Byron," Scarlett elucidated, thinking that Rhett Butler was an ideal example of such a man.

"Scarlett! Scarlett!" Suellen exclaimed as she couldn't imagine that the old Scarlett knew such details about the ton of England. "I cannot imagine you somewhere else, apart from Europe – London, Rome, or Paris. You have changed so much!"

"Perhaps, darling, perhaps," Scarlett smiled enigmatically.

"I join your sister in her conclusions, Scarlett," Doctor Meade agreed. "You have changed very much."

"Everybody changes," Scarlett continued gently. "Honestly, now I also cannot fantasize myself somewhere else, excluding Europe. Europe is so different from the Old South, and I discovered that it suits me better. I got accustomed to society balls, charity events, and dinner parties in London and Paris; to Brighton with its sea air and Bath with its baths and other health-support measures; to my favorite South of France, Toulouse in particular, with its energy, masquerades, and flower parties; to sunny Southern Italy, especially Naples, and a little pompous Rome. I will possibly alter in the future, but it is so now."

"I understand you, Scarlett," Suellen nodded. She didn't verbalize that Scarlett liked Europe on the back of less strict society rules and standards: the Meades didn't need to hear this openly. "You are Marquise de Bréval, darling. Sorry for asking, but which title is higher in ranking – the Marquis or the Count?"

"In general, in both England and France, in descending order of hierarchy, we have the Duke, the Marquis, the Earl in England and the Count in continental Europe, the Viscount, the Baron, and then baronets and knights, as well as some other non-hereditary titles," Scarlett said in a tone that struck joy and interest into everybody's veins.

"And who are the Robillards?" Mrs Meade asked merely.

"The history of the Robillards in France is very sophisticated. The Robillards have three major branches. Suellen and I are related to the Robillard-Bréveaux branch," Scarlett began and smiled.

"Oh!" Mrs Meade breathed.

Suellen glanced at her. "Really? Three branches?" Her eyes widened. "How is that possible?"

"It is possible," Scarlett replied, "just because it is France. The Robillard-Bréveaux branch holds the title of the Count. Our grandfather Pierre's cousin Jean-Baptiste is _13th Count de Bréveaux."_

"I would love to meet our French relatives one day," Suellen supplied.

"You should visit me in France, my dear," Scarlett smiled at her sister and looked at the clock on the mantel on the wall.

"Let's see and plan," Suellen sighed.

"Where are you going after Charleston? Is Captain Butler accompanying you? He appears to care for you so much. Honestly, we have never seen a man so caring and nursing his wife," Mrs Meade exclaimed.

"We will see. I am departing for Charleston today and Rhett will meet me there. On Monday I will be off to Europe," Scarlett answered.

"Don't worry about the gossips in the town. We didn't answer any questions of the lay audience," Mrs Meade added to warn Scarlett's possible inquiry.

Both Meades and Suellen decided not to ask more about Rhett. Suellen wanted to ask the question she had in her mind in private to Scarlett. She went to the train station with Scarlett to accompany her on the train to Charleston. Scarlett kissed Suellen and Mrs Meade and left the house.

On the train station, Suellen hugged Scarlett and started the farewell conversation.

"Scarlett, thank you so much for all what you have done for us, especially for me," Suellen purred in a honeyed voice. There was no acid in it – everything was genuine. "Will you ever forgive me for my cruelty and horridness to you? I treated you so badly."

"I have already forgiven you. I love you, Sue."

"I love you too, Scarlett."

"I know that we weren't on good terms, but I always loved you. Please, forgive me for taking Frank from you," Scarlett answered and smiled softly to her sister.

"Thank you for everything. Scarlett. Will respects you so much, and my children adore you," Suellen told her sister in a honeyed voice.

"I must confess I don't blame you for our father's death. It was just a riding accident. I am sorry for saying those hateful, tormenting words to you, Sue."

"Thank you, Scarlett," Suellen replied, her eyes beaming. "It is such a great relief to hear these words."

"For me as well."

Suellen sent to Scarlett a quizzical look. "Sorry for the question in advance. What will you do with Rhett?"

Scarlett swallowed the accompanying sigh. It sat like a lump of indigestible gristle, deep in his belly. "Darling, Rhett is a very unique person." Her fingers of the right hand constricted around her left hand.

"I understand. I wish you good luck with him. He seems to love you."

"We will see what the outcome will be," Scarlett said, her voice husky. "Perhaps, he loves me. Perhaps, he doesn't love me. You don't know the whole story."

"Scarlett, I saw your daughters. They are beautiful have some resemblance with Rhett in their appearance. I told nothing and Will did the same, but will you tell him? He has the right to know."

Scarlett embraced Suellen tightly. "Thank you for keeping silent."

"Will you ever tell him the truth, Scarlett?"

Scarlett stared at her sister for half a minute before she spoke. "I will reveal the truth eventually, but in the convenient moment. I will think about it later."

Suellen cast a sympathetic glance at Scarlett. "I understand you, Scarlett. When we learnt that Rhett Butler had divorced you, we were more than shocked."

"Suellen, you shouldn't be shocked with my divorce. This is just Rhett Butler," Scarlett scoffed.

"But there had never been any divorce in South Carolina before he divorced you," Suellen said in confusion.

Scarlett only laughed bitterly. "Sue, if you are saying so, then you don't know Rhett Butler. If he wants something, he gets it. If he must breach the rules and it suits him, he will do it."

Suellen shook her head, confused once more. "I don't know whether it is positive or negative."

"Sue, I also don't know at times."

"I see."

"Oh, Sue, I am so happy that we are talking in such a civilized manner now." Scarlett smiled heartily. Her voice was edged with softness and tenderness. "Why couldn't we understand each other earlier?"

Suellen smiled back and shrugged. "Perhaps, it is because we had to live through so many difficulties that changed us and made us stronger. And as we changed, we became able to understand each other."

"I think you are right," Scarlett agreed. "I don't think that three years ago I was able to understand you, Sue."

"And three years ago I wasn't able to forgive you for taking Frank Kennedy from me. After Frank had married you, I thought that the sweetness of life would be missing for years. However, I reconsidered this circumstance."

"And why is that so?"

"It is because I love Will."

Scarlett smiled. She felt as happiness slashed through her heart. "Really?"

"Yes, Scarlett."

"I am so glad to hear it."

"You know that when I married Will, I didn't love him. For me he was one of those numerous soldiers who arrived at Tara one after another."

"It was terrible time, Sue."

"I still remember how Will arrived unconscious across the saddle of a comrade. He was acutely ill with pneumonia. When we put him to bed, we feared he would soon be buried in the ground. And later Will began working with us at Tara."

"Will helped me so much at that time," Scarlett mused. "A large part of my burdens at Tara shifted from my shoulders to Will's shoulders."

"You also worked as a slave. And if not for you and later for Will, I don't know how we could survive," Suellen admitted.

"Oh, Sue," Scarlett breathed.

"It is true," Suellen replied. "And then I got married to Will because he wanted to stay at Tara, you got married to Frank, and I couldn't leave with a man who wasn't my relative. So I became his wife. And throughout all these years, Will had been so protecting, so caring, and so understanding that I grew to love him. This helped me to realize that had I got married to Frank, I would never be as happy and secure as I am with Will now."

"You don't know how much your words mean for me, Sue."

"Thank you, Scarlett. Now I just hope that your relations with Rhett Butler won't become more complicated."

Scarlet shrugged. "Only God knows what will happen between me and Rhett."

"I wish you all the best, Scarlett," Suellen wished sincerely.

"Thank you, darling." Scarlett returned a brilliant smile. "Sue, you should visit me in France."

"This is a wonderful idea!"

"Yes, it is. I will write to you," Scarlett said.

"Agreed," Suellen replied and smiled.

Scarlett looked at her pocket watch she extracted from her French silky purse. "Well then, I must go now. Otherwise I will miss my train."

Suellen hugged her sister. "I wish you a safe trip, Scarlett."

After farewell hugs and kisses with Suellen, Scarlett boarded the train for Charleston. During her trip, Scarlett was thinking about what to do. Now she knew that Rhett had kept in secret the existence of his son from Belle Watling from everybody, even Scarlett. She also questioned how Silvia Dawson could know about it and was sure that Rhett couldn't tell her about. Perhaps, she just ransacked Rhett's bedroom and his study in Charleston and thought something among his personal things because she should have had an access to the Butler house. In the meantime, Scarlett was not interested in how Silvia discovered this secret. Her impromptu visit to Belle Watling proved that Silvia didn't lie. The fact was that Rhett was lying to her and everybody for a long, long time. He claimed to love her, but he didn't trust her.

Another thing was that after Rhett Butler had proposed to Scarlett, he appeared to have two fiancées in different cities and living on various continents. Rhett claimed to love Scarlett and asked to marry him again, having a lady to whom he was officially engaged in Charleston. Moreover, this lady came to Scarlett in Atlanta, and it was evident that she wasn't going to leave Rhett. Rhett's behavior wasn't honest relative to both Scarlett and Silvia, but she didn't care for Silvia. Silvia jeered at Scarlett deliberately that Rhett used Scarlett as a whorehouse Madame, which hurt her very much, although Scarlett managed to mask her anger and frustration she felt during the conversation with Silvia. Now Scarlett was confused how Rhett's fiancée could learn about such a shameful disgrace Rhett put on her. However, it didn't matter, Scarlett mused, because the fact was that Rhett had betrayed her again.

Rhett was lying to her in so many things. And a lie begets a lie, she thought. Scarlett didn't want to live in the marriage of falsehood and hypocrisy. She wanted to trust Rhett if she decided to reunite with him. She knew that she loved him, but she didn't want to have a sort of love Rhett seemed to offer her. She didn't know what to expect from him and what she had to discover about his past or present in the future. Scarlett and Rhett were alike in many aspects, but the difference was that Scarlett was a blackguard with responsibility and honest to another scoundrel if she was in league with him. Rhett seemed to be so selfish and was playing the hog with her. Scarlett wanted balanced and predictable marriage and love and to know that she won't be betrayed tomorrow by her inamorato. Scarlett couldn't forgive him for the piles of deception he disseminated in their life.

Scarlett arrived in Charleston and, having stepped off the platform, hired the carriage to get to the harbor. When she was told that there was a ship tomorrow, on Sunday, instead of Monday, she decided to depart from Charleston on Sunday instead of Monday. She made almost all her luggage be delivered to the ship in advance, right from the train station. In one suitcase she put the things she needed just for one night. Then she went to Charleston Grand Hotel and checked in the luxury suite. On the reception, she left the note for Rhett Butler and went back to her room number.

Scarlett also remembered her promise to Mammy to be happy. She was ready to tell Rhett about the children, but she wanted to know that he wanted these children and more children with her in general. She recalled that in the past he told her that he was not ready to risk his heart again, for the third time. Now, Scarlett intended to ascertain that Rhett, who proclaimed to love her vehemently and unconditionally, was ready to dispose himself for the family.

Rhett arrived in Charleston from Savannah the same evening and went directly to the hotel. He was very happy that he was finally meeting Scarlett and all the more in the hotel. Rhett had secretly hoped that the night would end in Scarlett's embrace. He spent some time with Scarlett alone in Atlanta when she was healing from the gunshot, but he wanted more. He wanted her holding her sides, her smile wide, her eyes bright. Rhett wanted Scarlett physically with a fierceness that astounded him. She was so lovely and so beautiful and so alluring, and he desperately wanted her, regardless of any other circumstances in his life, first and foremost his engagement to _Silvia Ferdinanda Albertson Dawson_. He will be able to break his engagement to Silvia later, he mused.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

**Scarlett's memories about London – introduction to _Queen Victoria _and the British royal family**

Scarlett and Rhett had a late dinner in Scarlett's master suite. When Rhett proposed this idea, she didn't object. Rhett was happy, and they were talking about a lot of things from the past, including Bonnie, their marriage, and their feelings. Scarlett avoided talking about her new life in France, and Rhett didn't pressure her. She was a little strained and was keeping quite distant from him. Rhett noticed this, but didn't pay much attention because he was sure that it was due to the fact that she was nervous before the night. He wanted to spend the night with her because much time had passed since they were together last time.

Scarlett was sitting comfortably in the armchair, while Rhett settled himself and unceremoniously stretched his long legs along the sofa. A half-empty bottle of white dry wine was standing on the table near the sofa. Scarlett decided in favor of French meal and ordered wine-poached salmon with black truffles, some French cheese, oyster soup, lettuce salad, as well as lemon crepes and honey cakes for desert. The full bottle of Moët et Chandon, the finest French champagne, was also ordered by Scarlett.

Outside the window, afternoon was settling into evening. The faint glow of sunset echoed in a thin line to the east. As one of the windows was ajar, the cooling air rushed into the room, making Scarlett's skin pucker beneath the thin fabric of her dress. By nighttime it would be quite chilly. She would have to wear her shawl of India cashmere or something warm. Maybe, Rhett will warm her with his body? She didn't know. Scarlett's mind traveled back to the time when her lips had met Rhett's as if they belonged there. She remembered the way his body had bracketed hers, strong and solid. God, she wanted him, especially now when they were alone in the hotel suite.

Scarlett studied her long-estranged husband as he reclined with his head propped on one hand nibbling honey cakes. He was so handsome with his jet black hair and laughing dark eyes, his tanned wide masculine face with those full sensuous lips. Gazing at him, she acknowledged that she loved him in a way she had never loved Ashley or any other man. Her feeling to Ashley was an illusion of love, which she created in her imagination. If someone had presumed to ask her why she imagined loving Ashley, she could have listed a string of perfectly good reasons – staying in her childhood, desire to have what she couldn't have, fantasy, and at last aberration. With Rhett, she could not say why she loved him, only that she did because he was her Rhett.

"Let's open the bottle of champagne," Scarlett proposed. "It is one of the finest French champagnes."

"Why Moët et Chandon?" He rose to his feet and approached the table. He opened the bottle and poured two glasses for himself and for Scarlett.

"I daresay because it is produced from the most flavorsome grapes from Cramant, Le Mesnil, or Bouzy," Scarlett explained as she accurately took her glass and sipped champagne. "Besides, it has been the best-selling brand in Europe for the past century. _Queen Victoria_ in England, _King Vittorio Emanuele II_ in Italy, _Emperor_ _Franz Joseph I_ in Austro-Hungary, many French nobles and many nouveau riches, and the beau monde of Europe tend to buy it for their cellars."

"I see that you lived in France," Rhett mocked, also sipping champagne. He took her hand and brought it to his lips. "This champagne is the best I have ever tasted. I usually ship from France either Moët et Chandon or Louis Roederer."

"I would say it is more about the influence by the Robillards and then French influence in general."

"Not too bad," he returned thoughtfully.

"I trust so."

It was insane, Rhett thought. How badly he wanted Scarlett. Yet starting from the moment she had walked into the living room of the suite where he had been waiting for her, he had had to concentrate on her words to stop remembering how wonderful every inch of her body felt beneath his fingers. Scarlett's face was the picture of bemused pleasure and satisfaction as they discussed such trifles as French champagne brands. Her intense sincere delight in talking about such things pushed everything else from Rhett's mind, and he completely concentrated only on Scarlett, especially her face and her body. Watching her smile and enjoyment, Rhett felt a vigorous tenderness sweep through his body. He would do everything to keep that look on her pretty face, he thought. Then he laughed with silent mockery at himself.

Scarlett cast a sideway glance at him. "Why are you laughing? Has something happened?"

"Nothing, darling, nothing," he answered.

She shot him an under-the-counter glance. "Nothing?"

"It is just that I am happy to have you now so close to me."

She sipped champagne. "Oh, I see."

"You have been so far from me for such a long time."

His words made Scarlett remember that he had divorced her. She flinched. "I don't regret. I like Europe."

"I understand that you have quite solid positions at the French high society," Rhett said.

"You are right, Rhett. I am always invited even to the balls at the mansion of _Marie Esme Patrice Maurice de Mac-Mahon, 1st Duke de Magenta and the President of the Third Republic of France,_" she announced proudly. She stared at him and smiled. "Annabelle and I celebrated the last New Year there."

Rhett smiled light-humouredly at her. "I see that the Robillards are very influential in France."

"I wouldn't say so. The Robillards are a notable part of the French high society. It has been so for a very long time. Many of the Robillards had been the courtiers at _Napoleon III's_ court before the defeat of _the Second French Empire_," Scarlett explained. She looked at him, and saw a pure interest in his black eyes. So she went on. "Annabelle was a lady-in-waiting at _Napoleon III's_ court. To sum up, I am invited at many parties of the highest rank because of the old nobility and the high esteem of the Robillards in France."

"What about your deceased husband?" Rhett asked.

"My late husband _Marquis Mathieu de Bréval_ was in the entourage of _Napoleon III_. He was a prominent counselor at the Ministry of Arts. He even participated in the renovation of Paris under _Baron Haussmann's_ plan," Scarlett announced.

"How interesting," Rhett said. In reality, he was jealous of Scarlett's late husband, even if he was dead.

"Mathieu also was a connoisseur of art, and there is a huge art gallery at his mansion on _Rue des Blancs Manteaux."_

A smiled flickered on his lips. "Is it in the aristocratic district of Paris - in _Le Marais?_" he questioned.

"Exactly."

A wide grin appeared on Rhett's face. "Of course. Many noble people live in _Le Marais."_

"I like this district as it is so old, so noble, and so fashionable," she parried. "There are a lot of beautiful buildings there."

Indeed, _Le Marais_ was a historic, long aristocratic district of Paris, which hosted many outstanding beautiful buildings of historic and architectural importance. It spread across parts of _the 3rd and 4th arrondissements_ in Paris, on the right bank of the Seine. From the 13th century to the 18th century and especially after _the Royal Square_ was designed under _King Henri IV_ in 1605, _Le Marais_ was the French nobility's favorite place of residence, being a very expensive area to live. French nobles built their urban mansions there, including _the Hôtel Saint-Pol_, _the Hôtel de Sens_, _the Hôtel de Sully_, and many others. The Harlay-Champvallons, _Marquis Mathieu de Bréval's_ family, had been residing in their magnificent mansion in the Baroque style on _Rue des Blancs Manteaux_ for more than four centuries. After Mathieu's death, Scarlett continued living in his house and had no plans to change the place of her residence. She liked the location and the district.

Rhett chuckled. "I could expect to hear that you are talking in that way."

"I am delighted that you think so. I might assume that you are also staying at the hotels in _Le Marais_ when you are in Paris," she teased him.

"Perhaps, it is so," he answered. A cryptic smiled illuminated his face. "Have you ever been presented to _Queen Victoria _and to the British royal family?" He jumped to another subject.

Scarlett smiled eagerly. "Yes, I have. The Duke of Aylesbury has introduced me to _Queen Victoria_ at _Windsor Castle_."

"The Duke of Aylesbury?" he questioned.

"Yes," she returned. "What are you asking?"

A vague smiled hover over Rhett's lips. "Oh, I am sorry. I forgot that he is also one of the French Robillards. I remember that he has a complex double-barreled surname. I have met him on some parties and balls in London."

"Aylesbury's mother Constance was one of the French Robillards. His full name is _Philippe Justin Robillard-Arden, 8th Duke of Aylesbury_," Scarlett said.

"Now I remember," Rhett said thoughtfully.

Scarlett laughed merely. "I was presented to _Queen Victoria_ in the middle of April 1875. I have just ceased my mourning for Mathieu. It was magnificent."

Scarlett's mind traveled back to the magnificent evening when the Duke of Aylesbury introduced her to _Queen Victoria_ and other members of the British royal family. It happened in April 1875, before the official reception at _Windsor Castle_. Aylesbury sent Scarlett a notification about the event two months in advance, asking her to prepare the special gown and to be sure that she would be ready for the meeting in accordance with the etiquette of _Queen Victoria's_ court. He instructed her not to make her gown very extravagant and make the neckline medium-cut or high-cut. Annabelle didn't accompany Scarlett in her trip to London as she was visiting her son René in Normandie. Annabelle had already been introduced to _Queen Victoria_ many years ago and didn't need to accompany Scarlett.

As usual, in London Scarlett was staying at the Marchmont Hall in Mayfair. She arrived in London in a week before the event and spent the whole week, preparing for her introduction to _Queen Victoria_. She was trying her dress numerous times. She was also exercising the movements with the long train of her gown she decided to choose for the event. _Marguerite Marie Gabrielle de Robillard de Bréveaux, Duchess de Ventadour_, also helped Scarlett to prepare for that event, practicing moving with that long train of the evening gown and making a gracious curtsey.

On the day of that special event, Scarlett spent the whole day, up to five in the afternoon, trying her dress and her jewellery. As she was done with the fitting, the Duke of Aylesbury, his eldest son _Jasper Alastair Robillard-Arden, the heir apparent to 8th Duke of Aylesbury and_ _10th Marquess of Wycombe_, and his son _Morgan George Robillard-Arden_ arrived to collect Scarlett from the Marchmont House on Albemarle Street. Scarlett and Marguerite were waiting for them in the grand hall of the house. As Aylesbury and his sons Jasper and Morgan walked into the room, Aylesbury and Jasper smiled broadly, while Morgan laughed merrily, as all of them appreciated Scarlett's appearance.

Scarlett looked breathtakingly beautiful. She was wearing the French evening gown made from emerald brocade, with the long train, and the V-shaped, decent and medium-cut neckline. The long train of the gown was trimmed with Chantilly lace and some light green thread. The front of the dress was embroidered with a modest number of small, Peruzzi cut diamonds. The light green gauze sleeves were funnel-shaped, with a certain amount of fullness at the shoulder, which gradually diminished as they reached the wrist. It was an airy design of the sleeves. Scarlett's arms were covered with the wrist-length silky emerald gloves trimmed with one row of diamonds across the whole length of each of the gloves. She was also wearing the Marquise cut emerald jewelry set, consisting of the glittering necklace with ten medium-sized emeralds and the pair of the elegant earrings with two small diamonds. Scarlett's raven hair was arranged in the Victorian style - in an updo collected at the back of the head and complimented by two loops of hair leading from the front of the hair to this arrangement at the back. The gown wasn't indecent, but it wasn't made in the pure Victorian fashion. At the same time, it was more modest than those gowns Scarlett was often in the French high society.

As they were looking at Scarlett, she also looked at each of them. Each of them was in a lush splendor of the evening attire, highly formal and ceremonious. Everybody was wearing the black tailcoat, the black waistcoat, the black trousers, and the white shirt. Aylesbury and his son Jasper were wearing the shirts trimmed with wide strips of white Venetian laces, which wasn't typical for the Victorian male fashion. In addition, there were two tiers of ruffles cascade down the front on their shirts, above the waistcoat, with matching frills at each cuff, having an air of French fashion of the 18th century. Morgan's shirt was more usual and formal, without any laces and ruffles. Everybody was wearing the puff tie, Aylesbury and Jasper black and Morgan jade green, accurately tied above the collar of the shirts. The Duke of Aylesbury looked every inch the powerful, rich, infamous Duke of Aylesbury. His sons also looked like typical noblemen.

"Scarlett looks very lovely, doesn't she?" Marguerite said. "At the court today won't be anything like it, and next week everyone will want exactly the same design of the dress."

Jasper laughed. "Scarlett, you look very beautiful. You will be a trendsetter today."

Aylesbury smiled. "Indeed, Scarlett would be one of the most beautiful ladies at _Windsor Castle_ today," he remarked.

Morgan shook his head in agreement. "I am sure that's he would be the most beautiful today," he said, his jade green eyes sweeping over Scarlett's perfect image.

Scarlett smiled. She felt embarrassed under their extensive gazes. "I thought I owe everything in my appearance only to my charm."

"Scarlett, please don't pretend to be so modest. It is not in your character," Marguerite remarked carefully. Then she smiled at Scarlett.

"And there are Christopher and Jacob?" Scarlett asked about Aylesbury's two other sons.

"Christopher and Jacob will join us right at _Windsor Castle_, as well as my wife Lady Georgette and my friends," the Duke of Aylesbury explained. "Christopher and Jacob are going together with my wife."

Jasper looked at the cloak on the mantle, his black eyes fixing on the angle of the hands of the cloak. "I think we must hurry up if we want to arrive at _Windsor Castle_ on time. The way there will be rather time-consuming."

"I agree," Morgan nodded.

"We must go now," Aylesbury said.

"Scarlett, good luck," Marguerite wished. "Please, find my son Patrick there and tell him that I am not satisfied with the amount of time he spends at home. He is always at various parties," she said with a derisive smile.

"It seems that our dear Lord Marchmont will never change," Jasper noted.

Morgan shrugged. "Jasper, he will change once he finds a lady whom he loves." Then he laughed. "Besides, we are also not an ideal pattern of decent gentlemen." He winked at his brother.

The Duke of Aylesbury laughed. "I daresay that all three of us are rather indecent gentlemen."

Marguerite blushed. "Oh God!"

Aylesbury gave an apologetic glance to Marguerite. "I am sorry if I sounded insensitive and blazen."

"Your Grace, please find my son at _Windsor Castle_. I know that he will be there," Marguerite asked.

"I will, your Grace," the Duke of Aylesbury said to Marguerite. Despite the fact that they were second cousins, Aylesbury always addressed to Marguerite by her title – _Duchess Marguerite de Ventadour_.

"We will be bored on the way to _Windsor Castle_," she continued, looking at each of her companions in turn. "I have so many things to remember - what to say and what not to say. Basically, I must think what not to say. If I were in the ordinary dress, it would be probably better."

The Duke of Aylesbury broke into a thrill of laugh, Jasper and Morgan smiled warmly. Marguerite only shrugged.

As Aylesbury's laugh faded away, a cheerful smile stirred his lips. "Scarlett, it is only for the best that your dress is not so typical for _Queen Victoria's_ court."

Morgan winked at Scarlett. "Scarlett, don't forget that his Grace the Duke of Aylesbury and his lordship Lord Wycombe have their own nostalgia in fashion to the 18th century." It was a hint on Jasper and Aylesbury's love for shirts with waistbands trimmed with laces and with high lace collars.

A faint smile flitted across Jasper's face. "Thank you, my dear brother."

"I feel a little nervous," Scarlett noticed.

"Don't worry, Scarlett," Aylesbury said in an appeasing tone. "If I see the slightest sign that you got lost and , I will help you. I will distract the attention on myself."

"Thank you, Aylesbury," Scarlett said with gratitude.

Morgan smiled. "You see, it is a sign of the true gentleman," he mocked. "All of us will fall on the sword for you."

"Oh," Marguerite breathed. She laughed. "Morgan, you are always such a witty gentleman."

"Let's go," the Aylesbury commanded. He looked at Scarlett. "Scarlett, I said that I will see that everything will be fine," he added. "I will do everything that is necessary," he assured again.

Scarlett smiled a slow, dazzling smile, and it was as though rays of sun flooded the room. "Thank you, your Grace," Scarlett said. "I am ready."

"You are welcome, Scarlett," Aylesbury said.

"Good luck, Scarlett. You will be fine," Marguerite said as they were leaving the grand hall.

The Aylesbury's black carriage was waiting for them near the Marchmont house. As they settled on the comfortable seats inside the carriage, the door closed and the carriage began to move. At that moment they were going from Albemarle Street in Mayfair in central London to _Queen Victoria's_ official residence - _Windsor Castle_. It was quite a distant way.

_Buckingham Palace_ had been the royal residence before 1861. It was originally known as Buckingham House, which was built for the Duke of Buckingham in 1705. In the future, it was acquired by _King George III_ in 1761 as a private residence for _Queen Charlotte_. At that time, the palace was known as "The Queen's House." Finally, _Buckingham Palace_ became the official royal palace of the British monarch on the accession of _Queen Victoria_ in 1837. _The Buckingham Palace Garden_ was the largest private garden in London.

_Queen Victoria_ married _Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha_, who was her first cousin, in 1840. Suffering from chronic stomach troubles, _Prince Albert_ died in 1861. The Queen had to live through a dreadful, overwhelming calamity that left her with a heavy, broken heart. _Queen Victoria_ loved her husband dearly, and her marriage to _Prince Albert_ was a marriage of love, not the convenient marriage, which was such a widespread phenomenon in the high society. The Queen was an energetic, passionate young woman who delighted in the company of artists, musicians and performers. The Queen also wanted her children to marry for love and even allowed the marriages that weren't very convenient for the British royal family. An example was the marriage of her daughter _Princess Louise_ to _John_ _George Edward Henry Douglas Sutherland Campbell, the heir apparent to the Duke of Argyll and the Marquess of Lorne_, who was a usual noble man, not of royal blood.

As she widowed in 1861, _Queen Victoria_ was so grief-stricken that she withdrew from any public life. She left Buckingham Palace and began residing at _Windsor Castle_, _Balmoral Castle_, and _Osborne House_. For many years, Buckingham Palace was seldom used, and even neglected, while life at _Windsor Castle_ was blossoming. As a result, the evening reception, where the Duke of Aylesbury was going to introduce Scarlett to the British royal family, was scheduled to happen at _Windsor Castle_ in the English county of Berkshire.

In the reign of _Queen Victoria_, _Windsor Castle_ was a symbol for the British Empire, and it was used as such. _Windsor Castle_ was a hub for numerous state and diplomatic visits, which were held in many of its reception rooms. _Windsor Castle_ was a mix of royal and private family life. It was in _the Private Apartments_ in _the Blue room_ that _Queen Victoria_ first laid eyes on _Prince Albert_ when he was at _Windsor Castle_ in 1839 and later got married to him. In addition, Prince Albert died in the same apartments it in December 1861, in the same room where _King George IV_ and _King William IV_ had also died. Life at _Windsor Castle_ was divided into two parts: it was the everyday life in _the Private Apartments_ and the occasional event in _the State Apartments_.

The way to _Windsor Castle_ was indeed bored. Scarlett was happy then they finally arrived in Windsor village in a couple of hours. Although _Windsor Castle_ was only twenty four miles from Central London, Scarlett felt as though half a day passed.

From the window of the carriage, Scarlett was observing what was going on outside. It was an amazing sight. Approaching _Windsor Castle_, Scarlett noticed long lines of carriages moving through the Windsor village, while others were moving in the opposite direction. _Windsor Castle_ combined the features of a fortification, a palace, and a small town. In its essence, it was a pattern of the Georgian and Victorian design based on a medieval structure, with many Gothic features. All the roads were crowded with people watching the parade of carriages. Scarlett heard the shrill sound of trumpets and weapon shots. Approaching the courtyard, Scarlett saw another line of carriages, traveling in the opposite direction.

"I feel like a princess," Scarlett said.

"It is a good description for you, Scarlett," Jasper admitted. "Princesses must be nice ladies, and I am afraid that you will outshine all other ladies today."

Aylesbury laughed. "I am sure that it will be so."

Scarlett smiled at them. She couldn't resist that smile. She liked all of them – the Duke of Aylesbury and his sons Jasper and Morgan. "Please don't embarrass me," she demanded. The answer to her words was joyful laugh.

The carriage stopped and the door opened. It was time to go out of the carriage, into the street. Scarlett felt a shiver along her whole spine. She felt very nervous. She was going at the left side of the Duke of Aylesbury's arm. Morgan and Jasper were following them behind. Aylesbury began to explain the design of _Windsor Castle_ to Scarlett.

As they went outside, _the Upper Ward_ of _Windsor Castle_ was lying ahead of their eyes. Scarlett saw many major buildings of the castle, which were enclosed by the upper bailey wall, which formed a central quadrangle. _The State Apartments_ run along the north of the Upper ward, with a range of buildings along the east wall. _The Private Royal apartments_ and _the King George IV Gate_ were located in the south part of the castle, while _the Edward III Tower _was in the south-west corner.

"We are going to _the State Apartments_," the Duke of Aylesbury declared.

Scarlett heard that Jasper and Morgan were talking about something, mentioning the names, many of which she didn't know. The Duke of Aylesbury was keeping silent for a while. He was going ahead with a confident, medium-paced gait, allowing Scarlett to follow him at a normal pace.

They passed _the Upper Ward_ of _Windsor Castle _and entered_ the State Apartments._ Scarlett swallowed hard, looking around at many people dressed in elegant, expensive clothes. Many of those people were numerous courtiers, and many of them were ministers and parliamentarians. Scarlett felt absent-minded and scared. Then she felt a hand on her elbow and looked up at the Duke of Aylesbury's face.

"You look very alarmed," the Duke of Aylesbury said softly. "Scarlett, please try to relax. It will be alright."

Scarlett smiled at him. "I hope so, Aylesbury. I don't look cautious, do I?"

A smile illuminated Aylesbury's handsome face. "Let's pretend that it is so."

"I am afraid that they will say me to get out. Nobody is waiting for me at _Windsor Castle_," Scarlett said.

"They will never say something like that," Aylesbury contradicted. "Don't forget that I am also here."

Scarlett shook her head. "Your Grace, you brought me here, and it is enough. All the rest is up to me."

"I wouldn't say so," Aylesbury said with a smile.

They were slowly passing through a multitude of a superb and unrivalled sequence of rooms, which were the finest patters of the late Georgian taste. These were the rooms decorated the Classical style, the Gothic style, and the Rococo styles. There was also what Scarlett didn't see in France as some rooms were decorated elements of the Jacobethan style in places. In Scarlett's opinion, the most luxurious rooms were made in the Rococo style that represented her favorite sublime extravagance and elegant whimsicality. Several rooms in the Rococo style included many original pieces of _King Louis XV decorations_. They passed _the White, the Green and the Crimson Drawing Rooms_, which included many trophies – carved, gilded wooden panels illustrating weapons and the spoils of war, many of which were with Masonic meanings.

"Now we are going to _the Queen's Presence Chamber_ on the first floor. This room is designed in the Baroque style with its gilded interiors enriched with florid murals," the Duke of Aylesbury enlightened.

"Your Grace, thank you very much for this explanation," Scarlett said.

"You are welcome, Scarlett." Aylesbury smiled at her. "Scarlett, look around. There is a fine mixture of the interior style in the castle."

"Oh, I see," she replied.

"In contrast to France, you can discover a new style at _Windsor Castle_ – the Jacobean style," he said.

She didn't know what it was. "What is it?"

Aylesbury smiled encouragingly. "The Jacobean style is the style in which the Сlassical elements predominate over the Gothic elements. I would say that it is the mixed Renaissance revival style that became popular in England from the late 1820s. It also has certain elements of the period from _Queen Elisabeth I_ who lived in the 16th century. It is a sort of _an Elizabethan revival_."

"I see," she said thoughtlessly.

"Later I will show you some buildings of that style." Aylesbury smiled good-humoredly. "Scarlett, please try to relax. We are going to present you to the Queen, not to behead you. I feel how tense you are. Don't be so scared."

"I don't know how Annabelle was talking to _Napoleon III_," Scarlett said.

The Duke of Aylesbury smiled. "Annabelle was talking to him as to everybody. She was also talking to _Queen Victoria_ in the same manner as I introduced her at the court in 1865. She looked confident, but was also inwardly scared."

"I will do my best. I promise," she pledged.

"I know this." He only nodded.

Soon Scarlett, Aylesbury, Jasper, and Morgan approached in the grand staircase of _Windsor Castle_ - _Anthony Salvin's Grand Staircase_ in the Gothic Style. Next they had to go to _the State Apartments_. The staircase was also overcrowded. A part of the crowd moved up on one side, while the other part went down. It seemed as though nobody had moved, but it was normal.

"I am sorry that is so overcrowded. It is always so here before the evening receptions," Aylesbury said.

"Thank you for letting me know, your Grace," Scarlett said.

They had to spend around fifteen minutes on the stairs, trying to ascend _Anthony Salvin's Grand Staircase_. As they finally reached the first floor, they entered _the State Dining Room_, which also was overcrowded.

"Why are there so many people?" Scarlett asked.

"Because of the official Queen's reception," he said shortly.

The procession moved slowly through the two rooms. As they moved into the next room with fewer people, Scarlett sighed with relief. Aylesbury's black eyes fixed on his friends – the Duke of Lauderdale, the Earl of Effingham, the Duke of Leeds, the Duke of Sutherland, the Marquess of Salisbury, the Earl of Shrewsbury, the Earl of Lanesborough, the Earl of Dudley, and Baron Montagu of Beaulieu. Many of them were with their wives and the children. Jasper and Morgan, who were following Scarlett and the Duke of Aylesbury, went to Lauderdale and Effingham, namely to Lauderdale's eldest son Stephen and Effingham eldest's son Edmund as Stephen and Edmund were they friends.

Scarlett and the Duke of Aylesbury entered the room, many females and their escorting men stared at Scarlett, ladies with envy and fascination and men with admiration and desire. Scarlett and Aylesbury stopped near a group of people in order to greet his friends. Aylesbury took his arm from Scarlett's elbows and shook hands with his friends. Scarlett noticed how those noblemen were looking at her, especially the Duke of Lauderdale, the Marquess of Salisbury, and the Earl of Shrewsbury. Lauderdale's steel grey eyes stared hungrily at Scarlett's bosom and delayed for a moment on the low neckline of her gown, then scanning her from top downward. Salisbury and Shrewsbury also stared at Scarlett, then at Aylesbury, apparently silently asking him why he was accompanying Scarlett to the Royal residence. Salisbury and Shrewsbury were accompanied by their wives, of course not as pretty as Scarlett was. Anyway, it seemed that their eyes were impossible to leave Scarlett. Scarlett only sighed. At least Lauderdale, who obviously desired her, wasn't married. But others were married, she mused.

Scarlett was happy when they left that group of people and walked ahead. Jasper and Morgan didn't follow them. She saw many ladies-in-waiting and simple noblewomen in their expensive gowns trimmed with ribbons, laces, and usually with long trains. The necklines of the gown were not cut low, being rather high and medium-cut. The ladies were chatting and gossiping. Scarlett smiled, as that sight made her calmer and even happy. Aylesbury and Scarlett continued going ahead through several rooms in the Baroque style. Scarlet considered the Duke of Aylesbury to be her knight, ready to fight the dragon for his protégé. Scarlett gave a sideways glance to Aylesbury and noticed how calm and indifferent he looked. Of course, he was in his usual, familiar environment, as always dispassionate and emotionless. She had already learnt that Aylesbury had been able to control his emotions even in the most embarrassing situations, as in public his black eyes always betrayed nothing more than boredom and mockery in particular situations.

As the Duke of Aylesbury and Scarlett entered _the Queen's Presence Chamber_, Scarlett finally saw _Queen Victoria_, the middle-aged lady in the strict velvet dress of dark grey color, a crown on her head. Scarlett looked at her and realized that in her youth and adulthood the Queen was very beautiful. In 1875, the Queen turned fifty six. She had brown, mainly grizzled hair. Her eyes were startlingly blue. _Queen Victoria_ parted her hair down the center, looped it around the sides, and secured what remained in an updo, which was known to be the so-called Victorian style. During all her life, she was known to be particularly fond of that hairstyle.

_Queen Victoria_ was sitting in the velvet red-gold throne. Several of her daughters – eighteen-year-old _Princess Beatrice_, twenty-seven-year-old _Princess Louise_, twenty-nine-year-old _Princess Helena_ – were standing at the left side of the throne. In addition, several maids of honor were standing hear the Princesses and _Queen Victoria_.

As the Duke of Aylesbury and Scarlett were waiting in the queue to be greeted by _Queen Victoria_, the Duke of Aylesbury was periodically whispering some details about the British royal family into her ear. He smiled and bent his head. "Scarlett, look there. Three ladies on the left side of the throne are very young _Princess Beatrice_, _Princess Louise_, and then _Princess Helena_," he whispered.

"_Princess Beatrice_ is very young and quite beautiful," Scarlett murmured.

Aylesbury gave a slight nod. "She is the youngest child." Then he smiled. "_Princess Helen_ has always been the least attractive among the members of the Royal family. However, _Princess Louse_ was always considered to be the most beautiful of the princesses, in addition being a very talented artist," he added in a half whisper. Obviously, nobody heard them.

Scarlett smiled. "I noticed."

_Princess Louise_, born _Louise Caroline Alberta,_ was also known as _the Marchioness of Lorne_ by her marriage to _John_ _George Edward Henry Douglas Sutherland Campbell, the heir apparent to the Duke of Argyll and Marquess of Lorne._ Despite the severe opposition from the members of the royal family, _Princess Louise_ fell in love with the Marquess of Lorne. Even not wishing this union, but wanting her children to marry for love, _Queen Victoria_ consented to the marriage. The marriage took place in March 1871. The couple often appeared at _Queen Victoria's_ court.

_Princess Helena_, born _Helena Augusta Victoria_, was _Princess Christian of Schleswig-Holstein_ by her marriage to _Prince Christian of Schleswig-Holstein_. _Princess Helene_ lived in England together with her husband who was a younger son of a reigning duke, and thus the absence of any foreign commitments allowed him to reside permanently in Great Britain, which used to be _Queen Victoria's_ primary concern when she was looking for a husband for _Princess Helena_. As _Prince Christian_ agreed to live in England, the Queen agreed to permit that the marriage would go ahead.

_Princess Alice_ was married to _Prince Louis of Hesse_, a minor German royal, the nephew of _Grand Duke Louis III of Hesse_. Since her marriage, she had been residing in Darmstadt in Hesse. Therefore, _Princess Alice_ didn't appear at the court on the everyday basis.

_Queen Victoria's_ eldest child, _Princess Victoria_, born _Victoria Adelaide Mary Louisa_, became German Empress and Queen of Prussia by marriage to _German Emperor Frederick III_. Of course, she wasn't living near her mother in England.

The Duke of Aylesbury again leaned his head down to Scarlett. "Look at the gentleman in the black tailcoat who is standing at the right side of the throne. He is _Prince Albert Edward, the Prince of Wales._"

"Oh! There are so many stories about his leisure time," Scarlett murmured.

One of the ladies-in-waiting looked at them in confusion. She didn't understand what they were talking about and stared at them, her eyes piercing the beautiful couple.

"Shhh, Scarlett. I want to be here in ten minutes and not to be thrown away from here. Let's talk later," Aylesbury warned.

"Oh!" Scarlett parted her lips.

"Look ahead and smile," Aylesbury instructed.

Scarlett's green eyes registered the man they were talking about. He was the eldest son of _Queen Victoria_ - _Prince Albert Edward_, the heir apparent who held the title of _the Prince of Wales_. As the eldest son in the British royal family, he automatically became _the Duke of Cornwall_ and _the Duke of Rothesay_ at birth. As a son of _Prince Albert_, he also held the titles of _Prince of Saxe-Coburg_ and Gotha and _the Duke of Saxony_. During the long reign of _Queen Victoria_, _Prince Albert Edward_ was largely excluded from political life of the country. Therefore, he had no other alternative as to become to personify the fashionable, leisured elite. _Prince Albert Edward_ and his wife _Princess Alexandra of Denmark_ lived at the Marlborough House, which was their residence in London. They entertained on a lavish scale. Moreover, the Prince of Wales also lavished his affections on many other objects – his numerous mistresses and pretty English and French actresses.

Aylesbury bent his head to Scarlett's ear and whispered that not all sons of _Queen Victoria_ were there. Another couple was absent. They were _Prince Alfred_, born _Alfred Ernest Albert_ and known as _the Duke of Edinburgh_ from 1866, and his wife _the Grand Duchess Maria Alexandrovna of Russia_, the only surviving daughter of _Emperor Alexander II of Russia._

_Prince Arthur, the Duke of Connaught and Strathearn, _was the seventh child and the third son of_ Queen Victoria_. He served as a lieutenant in the British Army, traveling in various parts of the British Empire. At that moment he and his family were in British India.

_Prince Leopold_, born _Leopold George Duncan Albert_ and known as _the Duke of Albany_, was the eighth child and fourth son of _Queen Victoria_. In 1875, he turned twenty two, but unfortunately he had weak health, being sick with haemophilia, which significantly increased the risk of his early death.

People came to the Queen, bowed and squatted in curtsies. Scarlett saw several very young girls, aged between sixteen and twenty. And Scarlett had to put an effort in order not to smile at them – it was so evident that the meeting with the Queen was a sort of a terrible challenge for those girls, who were frighteningly young. Scarlett remarked that nearly all of them were wearing modest dresses in ivory, white, or other light colors, which made they look romantic and even sentimental for her early youth when she was the sixteen-year-old belle of three counties. But Scarlett was not as young as those girls were. She was different from them, and she didn't know whether it was for the best or for the worst. At least, she wasn't going to pretend that she was the same like they were.

The Victorian period was known for its attention to very high morals, as inspired by _Queen Victoria_ and her deceased husband _Prince Albert_. _Queen Victoria's_ court was very decent and followed very moral standards, in contrast to many other European courts, especially _Napoleon III's_ court, the court of moral decadence, sybarite life, and extravagance. Of course, there were still many men and ladies who were leading sybarite life, but the number of them was significantly lower than that in Georgian period.

During that period, the usage of cosmetics decreased significantly. Even cosmetics for women were considered to be immoral, and there was a thought that only women of dubious morals would use cosmetics. But that doesn't mean that ladies stopped using them altogether. Well-off ladies used very little cosmetics and in very natural tones. The ideal of beauty to achieve was that of a delicate, feminine, fragile woman, with a pale complexion and with long curls.

Scarlett knew that, like in past historical periods, even in the Victorian era a pale complexion was a sign of nobility. She was lucky to have her magnolia-white skin that made her shine as a brilliant. Scarlett also learnt that a woman's hair was considered her glory and her treasure in Victorian England. Therefore, women very rarely cut their locks and often applied false hair to their mane to make it fuller. Scarlett's raven hair was long and glossy, and in that aspect she wasn't different from others.

Looking around the room, Scarlett noticed that noblewomen tried to do everything possible to achieve that ideal of delicate, fragile beauty. Scarlett had already noticed that at other balls and parties in the ton of England. But Scarlett didn't look so. On the contrary, she looked delicate and feminine, very feminine, but she didn't look fragile. And she wasn't going to look in that way. She had never been fragile – she had always been a stubborn survivor, and nothing could change that. In addition, she didn't look simple as there was an air of some enigma around her. The above wasn't attributable to the fact that she managed to wear the mask of polite indifference in public to hide her pain and general depression. Probably, it was an effect of many tragedies she had to survive through.

Scarlett was afraid that she wouldn't look like other ladies at _Queen Victoria's_ court. However, the Duke of Aylesbury assured her that her unconventional appearance, her exotic beauty, and the strength written on her face would produce excellent result. Scarlett only hoped that Aylesbury was correct.

As the ladies and gentlemen were bowing and squatting in curtseys, _Queen Victoria_ smiled at them and at times said a few words to those people near her. Her daughters were only staring ahead at the procession of people, at times whispering something to each other. Her son _Prince Albert Edward, the Prince of Wales_, just nodded as people were bowing and curtsying, his eyes studying women's dresses and faces, as well as their faces. Scarlett watched the picture around her in admiration. The ceremonious procession was gradually moving and the time when Scarlett and Aylesbury would be greeted by the Queen was approaching fast.

"Rhett, it such a nervous moment for me," Scarlett exclaimed. "Although it is not in my character, I was really frightened."

"I can imagine, Scarlett. Please tell me what happened next," he asked, his white teeth luminescent as he smiled.

She nodded and smiled. "Alright."

* * *

_I would be very grateful if you let me know what you think about this chapter. The episode when Scarlett is presented to Queen Victoria was added here only recently. I just don't want to describe the British royal family later. In Act IV Scarlett will meet them again._

_Reviews are very much appreciated. __Thank you!_


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

**Scarlett's memories about _Queen Victoria's _court and night of passion with Rhett**

And one moment there was no one before the Duke of Aylesbury and Scarlett. Scarlett felt her heart pounding harder and harder. She just began to realize that she was _the Queen's Presence Chamber_ at _Windsor Castle_. She was afraid that she would do something awkward and spoil all the evening. She had to admit that she also felt embarrassed in front the members of the British royal family, so noble and so famous. Just smile and look ahead, she instructed herself.

Scarlett looked at _Queen Victoria_ and then her eyes fell on the Duke of Aylesbury. She distinguished a conspiratorial gleam in his black eyes as he smiled at her and then glanced at _Queen Victoria_. Scarlett sank into a gracious, even theatrical curtsy, a curtsey that was deep, deep, even deeper than anyone could have done. Scarlett felt that everything was like falling asleep as though it was unreal, including a middle-aged woman on the throne and large mirrors on the both sides of the reception room. Everything reflected the splendor around: luxurious decorations of the room in the Baroque style, colorful and elegant female gowns, shimmering diamonds, and glow of glittering light of chandeliers.

As Scarlett straightened from her curtsey, she saw that _Queen Victoria_ was smiling. She also saw that _Prince Albert Edward_ looked at her with appreciation and devotion. It was evident that he liked her as a woman, considering her to be very attractive. Several Princesses also smiled warmly. Then Scarlett noticed that there was an atmosphere of silence in the room. It was so quiet, as if the world held its breath and everybody had disappeared somewhere.

_Queen Victoria_ smiled. "Your Grace the Duke of Aylesbury, I am very happy to see you today," the Queen said. "We are happy to have you in London with us after so many years spent in British India."

The Duke of Aylesbury bowed very low to the Queen. "Your Majesty, I am very happy to be here today. I am also delighted to see so many members of the royal family at _Windsor Castle_ today," he said in a steady, sonorous baritone.

"And this is the charming lady that was so widely discussed in the ton of England," _Queen Victoria_ assumed.

Scarlett felt as though she would be blown away right on the spot. Her heart was hammering very hard, nearly jumping out of her thorax.

"This lady is one of the French Robillards, your Majesty. May I present _Catherine Scarlett Athénaïs de Robillard de Bréveaux, Marquise de Bréval_," the Duke of Aylesbury announced. "She is my distant relative," he supplemented.

"Madame de Bréval, we are delighted to meet with you at our court," the Queen answered and smiled.

A feeling of great relief slashed through Scarlett. Her heartbeat slowed to more or less normal. She was confused and bewildered, barely able to utter, but anyway relived. "Thank you, your Majesty," she said with gratitude, her pale green eyes beaming.

"We will be glad to see you again at our court," the Queen said softly. Her voice was a caressing murmur.

"Thank you very much, your Majesty," Scarlett said gently. Then she made another elegant curtsey.

Scarlett realized that that was the signal that her presentation to the Queen was nearly over. She murmured words of thanks and started to back away. However, _Princess Louise_ took a step forward, before Scarlett moved back. Scarlett stood rooted. She looked up at the Princess.

"We are very excited to see you here, Madame de Bréval. A lot of people have told me that you are a unique lady. I see that they were right," _Princess Louise_ commented. Then the Princess returned to her sisters who were standing rooted at the left side of the Queen's throne.

Scarlett murmured words of gratitude and acknowledgement. She made another curtsey. The Duke of Aylesbury bowed. She knew that she must have been satisfied with that, although she had numerous questions. But she couldn't have asked them at that moment – not in front of the British royal family and when the crowd of people was behind. As Scarlett and the Duke of Aylesbury were halfway to the exit, _Prince Albert Edward_ stopped them. Scarlett was astonished as she didn't see that he left his place at the right side of the throne.

The Duke of Aylesbury bowed low to _Prince Albert Edward_. "Your Royal Highness, I am happy to see you again."

"Your Grace, I wanted personally to greet Madame de Bréval at our court. Thank you for making this introduction," _Prince Albert Edward_ said.

Scarlett dared to look into the Prince of Wales's eyes. Her cheeks were flushing as she was feeling embarrassed by such a sign of the personal sympathy from _Prince Albert Edward_. "Your Royal Highness, thank you for your kindness," she said humbly. Then she made another beautiful curtsey. As she rose from the curtsey, she saw that the Duke of Aylesbury and _Prince Albert Edward _were smiling at her.

"You are welcome, Madame de Bréval," the Prince replied.

Scarlett was ready to make another curtsey, but she felt the Duke of Aylesbury's hand at her right elbow. And that hand squeezed her hand, signaling to keep silent.

"Thank you for your benevolence, your Royal Highness," Aylesbury said in a sonorous voice.

"I would be happy to see Madame de Bréval at one of my private parties at the Marlborough House, of course, if Madame de Bréval is in London," _Prince Albert Edward_ declared.

Scarlett and Aylesbury exchanged glances, and she again saw that conspiratorial glance in his black eyes. Scarlett decided that she would keep silent and look what Aylesbury would respond.

"Your Royal Highness, we will be happy to attend. We would like to thank you for your invitation," Aylesbury responded in an official voice. His voice was edged with gratitude. And then he bowed, again very low.

Scarlett felt that her cheeks flushed even more. She was afraid to say anything as she didn't want to spoil everything. She wasn't sure that it was a reality. Probbaly, it was only a dream and when she opens her green eyes, everything would be gone - _Queen Victoria's_ approval, as well as the benevolence sign of _Princess Louise_ and _Prince Albert Edward_. "Thank you, your Royal Highness," she murmured. She managed a wide smile.

_Prince Albert Edward_ also smiled. "You are welcome, Madame de Bréval." Then his gaze drifted to the Duke of Aylesbury. "Your Grace, I would love to see your sons at one of my parties at the Marlborough House. I hope I will have a chance to see them today during the official reception."

Scarlett recalled that the Duke of Aylesbury said that Jasper and Morgan had been in the group of favorites for _Prince Albert Edward_. They often attended his parties at his residence and used his benevolence to their own benefit. Like _Queen Victoria_, _Prince Albert Edward _liked the whole Robillard-Arden family.

A good-natured smile illuminated Aylesbury's face. "I will tell Jasper, Morgan, Christopher, and Jacob about your desire. Thank you very much."

Scarlett was so stunned that she was blindly following the Duke of Aylesbury through the sea of people. The voices around her became at times quieter and then suddenly louder. As she raised her head, she realized that _Prince Albert Edward _was no longer close to them. She still felt a hand at her elbow, and it was Aylesbury's right hand. She looked at his handsome face and saw a smile lurking in the corners of the mouth.

Aylesbury bent his head closer to Scarlett. "Scarlett, it is well done," he assured.

A never-ceasing myriad of various feelings transfixed her heart. She glanced away and sighed. As she looked at him again, he continued smiling. "Did it indeed go fine?"

"It was excellent," Aylesbury said. "I am proud of you, Scarlett."

The Duke of Aylesbury led Scarlett through several more rooms, and then on _Anthony Salvin's Grand Staircase._ The descent down the staircase was as slow as the ascent up the stairs. They were again in the crowd. Some time passed, and it was as though it had lasted forever. Scarlett silently cursed that crowd of people. She noticed that many of them were going not to the grand hall, but to one of the reception rooms on the ground floor. Scarlett supposed that they were supposed to attend the evening reception.

As they entered the room, they again saw a crowd of people. Aylesbury's black eyes inspected the crowd and fixed on his wife _Georgette Anne Robillard-Arden_, _the Duchess of Aylesbury_, as she was talking to _William Walter Legge, 5th Earl of Dartmouth_, who was rumored to be Lady Georgette's new lover. Aylesbury smiled at his wife. Lady Georgette noticed her husband, but averted her gaze, instead staring at Lord Dartmouth.

Scarlett remarked that Georgette looked younger than her actual age. In 1875, she turned forty four, but she looked between thirty five thirty nine seven years old. Georgette was a very slim woman, despite having six children. She was quite a tall woman. Her eyes were strikingly blue, while her hair was dark brown, glossy and obviously long. She was a very beautiful woman at her age. Yet, she looked very feminine, even excessively feminine, and there was nothing innocent in her. Her appearance was very provoking and very seductive.

Scarlett's eyes registered an extravagant magenta rose velvet evening gown, with the long train and with the very low neckline, cut as decently as Scarlett could have ever imagined. It was cut lower than the necklines on many of Scarlett's extravagant gowns. The front of that magenta rose gown was embellished with the diamonds and rubies. The sleeves harmonized with the gown, as they were not wide and diminished in size from the shoulder to the wrist, and were slashed from top to bottom. The exquisite Venetian lace completed the adornment of the sleeves. She was also wearing the necklace, composed of six cameos of tragic and comic heads, surrounded by a row of diamonds and a row of rubies, which matched the rubies at the front of her evening gown. Georgette was also wearing the ruby bracelet and the pair of ruby earrings.

Apparently, the Duchess of Aylesbury was one of few women who dared to wear such immodest dresses at _Windsor Castle_ and in the ton of Great Britain in general. Indeed, Georgette was a notorious woman who was leading a sybarite, flamboyant life in England, despite high moral standards of the society, which were sermonized by _Queen Victoria_. Scarlett flinched inwardly as she didn't understand how a lady, a Duchess who was in reality elder than forty, was able to wear such indecent, extravagant dresses. She looked at Aylesbury and noticed that his mouth curved into a sarcastic smile.

As Scarlett and the Duke of Aylesbury approached Georgette and the Earl of Dartmouth, two gentlemen smiled and bowed to each other. Aylesbury's smile was sarcastic and arrogant, his black eyes were laughing at his own wife. Dartmouth smiled sweetly, but it was evident that he felt confused and uncomfortable. As Scarlett's green eyes wandered from Aylesbury to Dartmouth, she felt as a lump formed in her throat – she didn't understand how Georgette could have preferred the ugly Earl of Dartmouth to the handsome Duke of Aylesbury, her own husband. It was unbelievable!

Aylesbury smiled half floutingly, half sarcastically. "Good afternoon, your Grace and your lordship," he said. There was no even a shadow of a hint of jealosity in his steady voice.

The Earl of Dartmouth looked at the Duke of Aylesbury. "Good afternoon, your Grace. I am delighted to see you here at _Windsor Castle_."

A worried expression flashed over Georgette's face. "Good afternoon, my dear husband," she said haughtily. She glanced at Scarlett, and a sweet smile touched her lips. Her blue eyes scanned Scarlett's beautiful emerald gown. "Your Grace, I am happy to see Madame de Bréval here," she addressed to her husband.

Scarlett managed a smile. "I am also delighted to meet you, your Grace."

Aylesbury looked at his wife. "Your Grace, have you seen our sons? Are they in the reception room?"

Georgette nodded. "Exactly, your Grace. You and Madame de Bréval can go there and find them." She raised her chin and smiled again, showing her neglect to Aylesbury, her own husband.

Aylesbury's smile grew wider as he continyed looking at his wife. "Your Grace, we are going to do this right now. You might stay here with his lordship the Earl of Dartmouth." His hands squeezed Scarlett's elbow, signaling that they would leave soon. Then his black eyes flew to Lord Dartmouth, then shifted to Georgette. "I wish both of you to have a good night," he added. He bowed to both his wife and her lover.

A smile parted Scarlett's lips. "Have a very good night," she said with Aylesbury's in unison. As she realized what she had said, she felt her knees trembling. She copied Aylesbury's nonchalant and mocking comment about his wife. God, how it could happen with her, Scarlett mused.

The Earl of Dartmouth managed a feigned smile. "Goodnight, your Grace and Madame de Bréval," he said half formally, half embarrassingly.

"Goodnight, my husband, your Grace," Georgette nearly hissed.

Scarlett and Aylesbury were going farther and farther from the Duchess of Aylesbury and the Earl of Dartmouth. Apparently, they were supposed to come somewhere else, probably, to another reception room. They crossed the lobby of _Windsor Castle_ and passed through another room in the Gothic style.

As they were walking, Scarlett threw a frightened glance at Aylesbury. I am sorry that I said those shameful words to her Grace the Duchess of Aylesbury. I didn't realized what I was saying. Only later I recognized my own mistake."

Aylesbury let out a twangy laugh. "Scarlett, it is fine. Such tense relations between my wife and me are a kind of normal for us, and all the ton of Great Britain knows about that. We haven't been living together, in the same house, for the past ten years. You know that my wife resides at the Arden Hall in Mayfair, while I live at the Robillard-Arden Hall in Belgravia. Our children are no longer small and they understand everything."

Scarlett felt some relief. She swallowed hard. "I am very sorry, your Grace."

The Duke of Aylesbury again laughed . "It is normal for Georgette and me," he repeated. "The Earl of Dartmouth is my wife's new lower, but I don't care," he supplemented.

Scarlett looked up at Aylesbury and saw that he was smiling. His smile was warm, and it was a smile for her. "Don't care?" she slowly asked.

"Exactly," he confirmed. "Scarlett, we have a convenient marriage, nothing more. Our lives are entirely independent now," he enlightened.

Having a strange sensation of confusion and disbelief, as well as a deep sympathy to the Duke of Aylesbury, Scarlett only nodded. "I understand," she said numbly.

"Scarlett, let me congratulate you. Our today's introduction was excellent," Aylesbury said. He didn't want to talk about his wife.

Scarlett's pale green eyes flashed with fire. "Oh, your Grace! It was perfect. But I was so nervous. I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to do a gracious curtsey."

"Your curtsey was graceful and lightsome, and you did a deeper curtsey. I believe they appreciated it, Scarlett."

She smiled warmly. "I hope so."

"It is good to see that you are happy," he confessed sincerely.

"And everything is thanks to you, your Grace," she said joyfully.

Aylesbury shrugged shortly. "I didn't do much. I only organized this introduction and gave some recommendations to you in advance," he returned. As he looked at her, the expression of his face was impenetrable, but he smiled and it was a kind-hearted smile, but a little detached, dispassinate smile. Aylesbury was again as unemotional as usual. "The rest was done by you, Scarlett."

Indeed, the whole British royal family and _Benjamin Disraeli, the British Prime Minister and 1st Earl of Beaconsfield_, liked the Duke of Aylesbury. Therefore, it wasn't difficult for him to organize that introduction of the French noblewoman, his distant relative, to _Queen Victoria_ and her court.

At the same time, the success Scarlett had at that day was not only Aylesbury's achievement. Scarlett looked great. Also, she was very well prepared for the introduction as she spent in Paris many hours, practicing that gracious curtsey, deep and elegant. Annabelle, a former lady-in-waiting at _Napoleon III's court_, helped her. She somehow managed to control her excitement and nerves, which was very important in order to look confident. She looked as a very strong, confident woman. And despite not being that Victorian ideal of a fragile, delicate beauty, Scarlett's image made a great impression on _Queen Victoria_. Scarlett wasn't an innocent young girl, but there was still some innocence in her appearance. That undeniable innocence was shining in her pale green eyes, while her smile warmed. Her undeniable charm magnetized the people around. Even with her mask of polite indifference, Scarlett reminded everyone of life and hope.

The women of royal blood had to love through many things. They learnt strict etiquette and were ready to sacrifice their lives on the altar of their country. They couldn't dispose their lives. Often they had to suffer shame, frustration, unhappiness, and, probably, madness. They saw life, courage and hope. Scarlett, beautiful and elegant, even in her quite extravagant dress, shone like the summer sun, like the finest of the diamonds, and it was impossible to miss her in that crowd of people on the staircase and then in the reception rooms. At the same time, she was very feminine. The image of innocence and womanhood and some enigma made her stunningly beautiful, unique, and unforgettable.

They spent the rest of the evening in _the State Dining Room_ in _the State Apartments_. Scarlett was talking to the Duke of Aylesbury and his sons Morgan and Jasper. Soon, his other sons Christopher and Jacob found them. Everybody of the Robillard-Ardens congratulated Scarlett on her introduction to _Queen Victoria_ and the signs of benevolence Scarlett received from the Queen. Aylesbury was not always near Scarlett as he had to spend some time with his friends, especially Lord Effingham and the Duke of Lauderdale. Scarlett spent nearly the whole time with Aylesbury's sons whom she dearly liked, especially Jasper and Morgan, as well as Christopher. Jacob was too arrogant for Scarlett. Lord Marchmont also found them and spent some time with them.

During the evening, Scarlett's green eyes often locked with Georgette's blue eyes. Georgette looked at her with suspicion and with alarm and she didn't bother herself to conceal those feelings. But Scarlett didn't care for that. She also noticed how many men made advanced to the Duchess of Aylesbury. She was again stunned with her popularity among the opposite sex, which was especially strange given that her own husband disregarded her on each and every occasion. Georgette didn't come to her sons, and they were periodically walking from Scarlett to their mother.

After that introduction, Scarlett received a great multitude of invitations to private parties, balls, routs, and charity events. As Annabelle came to London, they spent glorious time in April and May 1875 in the ton of England, attending various events. They also attended one of the private parties at the Marlborough, _Prince Albert Edward's _official residence. On that party Aylesbury's friend, offered Scarlett to be his mistress, but Scarlett only laughed at him. In several days, the Duke of Lauderdale arrived at the Marchmont House with a large bouquet of rose and heartily apologized for his proposal.

"Scarlett, please accept my congratulations. It is a great achievement to have tremendous success at _Windsor Castle,_" Rhett's well-modulated baritone spoke.

"Rhett, I don't know whether it was such a success. The Duke of Aylesbury said that it was great," she answered. He green eyes flashed. "Indeed, I received many more invitation to private parties and balls after that introduction."

"I can imagine, Scarlett." Rhett smiled heartily. But then suddenly the smile was gone and his gaze turned serious. "Scarlett, why did you run away from the United States and the whole South?" Rhett asked with genuine interest.

"I didn't run away," Scarlett answered with a luxuriant French accent with a special intention to underscore that she lived in France and laughed outright.

"No?" Rhett queried and glazed at her interrogatively.

"No, Rhett."

"Really, my dear? You disappeared and nobody knew where you were till the time some rumors about your marriage started to spread."

"Rhett, I wanted to forget what happened with me. I could hardly carry on," she supplied the truth. "I went to London and then relocated to Paris after getting married to _Marquis Mathieu de Bréval_. In France I met many Robillards, and they became my family."

A flicker of pleasure passed over his face as he gazed at her. "Scarlett, my darling, I was so wrong in divorcing you. I am so sorry. I love you."

"Rhett, please…" she snapped to attention. He ignored and continued.

"I am so sorry for leaving you when you needed me so much, my pet," he frowned slightly.

"God's nightgown, Rhett! Don't talk about it. I did also many bad things to you. I am not an angel," Scarlett said cryptically and clapped her hands. She sipped more champagne.

"There can be a new beginning for us. I was running from myself for so long. I was a fool, my pet. I was a bastard in relation to you as I left you after Melanie and Bonnie's deaths and after the night... in Charleston... I didn't think about you. I wanted to drive you away from me in order to prove myself that I can slice my feelings for you to ribbons," Rhett confessed and drew a sigh.

"Rhett, I knew this, but you didn't want to listen to me... In an instant and forever, love can make a fool seem clever," Scarlett nearly sung.

"At that time, two years ago, I wanted to push you away from me and forget you… My pet, your mood has improved as I see," Rhett smiled at her.

"As for me, I was a fool when I thought that I loved Ashley. I never loved him. He was just a dream and childish infatuation, nothing more. I told you it two years ago. But you didn't believe me." She could feel her pulse quicken with her desire for him and confusion about the necessity to realize her plan. The only thing how she could check him was to ask about his attitude to children.

"Honey, I indeed didn't believe you at that time. I just wanted to be alone and dead after our dear Bonnie died. I just loved her so much that my heart died with her. Only in some time, when the pain became less sharp and I resigned to the fate, I started to feel better," Rhett stepped forward to Scarlett, but she stepped back from him and sat to the armchair.

"I am still dead, Rhett, but not only because of Bonnie… Darling, I also loved Bonnie very much… I swear I loved her… although I wasn't the best mother to her," Scarlett said sorrowfully, and Rhett noticed bitterness and heart-ache in her melodic voice. She was behaving strange, withheld to herself, while her excessive debonair bemused him considerably. Apparently, she didn't want to talk much.

"Honey, tell me what happened with you. Bonnie… I know that you also loved her, my pet… We both loved her… And lost her…" Rhett said, feeling tension in his body.

"I loved Bonnie very much, but in my own way. I was a simple-hearted child who didn't understand what motherhood was. Now when I am older and wiser, I could be another kind of a mother…" Scarlett declared, trying to shift the topic of the conversation to the subject she was interested in. She was ready to open to Rhett the truth, but was testing him to see his reaction.

"Scarlett, I know that you loved her. She also loved you. She loved us both equally, not making a preference for me. I just spent more time with her," Rhett said heartedly as he sipped more champagne and emptied the glass. He repeated: "She loved both of us equally."

"Thank you, darling. Rhett, what do you think about having more children?" Scarlett asked, staring ahead at nothing and suddenly turned her head to face him, her glance was leer and unreadable in its true sense. She put the empty glass on the table, and so did Rhett.

"Scarlett, I told you once that I don't want to risk my heart again, but at that time I was completely dead. I couldn't feel, comprehend, and think. But, honestly, I still don't know whether I want more children," Rhett said under his breath.

This time he approached her and kissed her in her lips. The warmth of his skin gave her an instant's warning before his lips, firm and tender, brushed against hers. "Scarlett..." He touched his forehead to hers and drew his hands up to cradle her face. "Please. I can give you so much pleasure, darling. So much love. Just let me love you. Allow me the privilege today, although we are not married."

"Rhett, please…" she murmured into his lips, every cell of her body whirling and aching at his touch. It felt so right. She thought that he was so exactly fashioned for her alone.

"Scarlett, my love, I want you so much, so deeply. I want you now." His voice rumbled in her ear as his thumbs caressed her cheekbones. "You cannot imagine how hard it has been waiting for you in the States and dreaming about your only one touch."

No doubt about that, she thought. She was also dreaming about his hot kisses and his passion. "Rhett…" she whispered, pulling back. "Do you think I don't want it, too? I want you desperately. When I was in Europe, I was longing for you almost every night. I remembered our one last night in Charleston..." She stopped herself as she realized what she could have said.

Rhett hugged her again. "Scarlett, darling, I want you…" he muttered in a reverent whisper into her lips.

Scarlett could hear the hoarseness, the plea in his and her own voices. However, she pushed him away and stepped outside the circle of his arms to breathe the cool air in great cleansing gasps. "Why, Rhett?" she went on quietly, at last. She tried to mask capturing her anger and resentment. "You claim that you love me, but you don't want to have children with me, do you?"

He turned away a few degrees, glancing away. "You are serious to talk about it now, aren't you?"

"Quite serious. Please understand."

"Oh, damn," he said. "Oh, damn."

Silence spun about them, reluctant and agonized. Scarlett broke it. "So?"

"Darling, you have two children with your last husband. Why should you have more? We can be happy without children. I am not sure I want children now."

"Why?"

"I am trying to be honest. If something happens with a child of mine, I will be dead. I cannot lose myself again after Bonnie," Rhett said bitterly. He continued kissing the alabaster skin of her neck.

"Rhett, imagine you and I had children together. What would you do? Would you be happy?" She said, feeling as her body went limp in his caressing hands.

"Darling, I am not ready to have more children. Perhaps, when some time passes… But anyway, I will be unable to be bond with a new child like I was with Bonnie…" Rhett broke the kiss and glanced at her. Her eyes were of deep green color, and he saw anger and warmth in them. He realized that he was cruel again in talking about children, but he just wanted to be honest.

"Rhett… It is the darkest honestly in our relationship… It is suffocating me... your version of truth... Why are you always so cruel to people who love you? Don't you think that your words can hurt?" Scarlett asked with anger in her voice.

"Scarlett, I am sorry. I am just trying to be honest."

"Thank you for it."

"I told you that I am not ready for a family with my own children, even with you and despite my love for you, my pet. I don't negate that I love you…" Rhett bubbled in her ear, continuing to hug her.

"You are a wretched brute. You know nothing. I was suffering so much during my last pregnancy…" she fluttered her eyelashes down and then again up. She remembered the time of her ill pregnancy when she expected to see nothing ahead but loneliness and pain.

"Darling, Scarlett…" Rhett murmured in response, but she forced him to break his voice off.

"It was very difficult and awful labor. It all happened because of having twins and my fall from the staircase… I remember it as if it happened yesterday…" she growled. She pulled her eyes back from Rhett as a new thread of burning anger at Rhett hemmed the edges of her conscience. She didn't look at him in order not to let him see her hardly concealed rampage.

"Scarlett, in this case we shouldn't talk about new children in the nearest future. You know I don't want now, and you cannot risk. I love you… Isn't that enough for you? Let's see over time," Rhett snapped lazily under his breath and added. "I hear another deep, frantic inhale from you. What is going on in the pretty little head of yours, my pet?"

"You know nothing, Rhett Butler!" she thundered. "I… you and I… So… you don't want children, Rhett?"

Scarlett's eyes were closed. She wanted to tell him the truth, but after what he had told her, she was no longer so sure that this truth won't bring additional difficulties in their relations and pain to her heart, in which the scars of the past troubles and tragedies had just begun to cicatrize.

"No, I don't. Sorry, Scarlett. I cannot lose myself again," Rhett said, looking at her apologetically, then repeated, "I am so sorry."

"You are incorrigible! You don't want responsibility, but you wish love and relations! What you propose is convenient for you, but not for me," Scarlett exclaimed. She grasped his left hand in her emotional tumult. Disillusionment finally occurred – he didn't want their children.

"Darling, I told you that I cannot…" Rhett was interrupted.

"You want passion and no responsibility, don't you? Is that all?"

"I want you, Scarlett."

"Do you want to spend the night with me?"

"Yes, I do."

"You will have it. As you wish, Mr Butler," Scarlett said quietly in a low voice and kissed him in his lips. Then she broke the kiss and looked in the emptiness of the dark room. She was biting her bottom lip.

Scarlett stiffened and tightened her teeth. However, she quickly relaxed and decided to give herself the last night of passion and love with the only man whom she ever truly loved. She was shocked with what Rhett told her. Why was he so cruel, hateful, and mean? What happened with him? However, the decision about her further actions was made. Rhett didn't want their children, but claimed to love her. She couldn't give him herself without the children. She wanted his unconditional and sincere love for both her and children, not only burning passion of lovers.

Physically, she couldn't resist her desire any longer. Rhett kissed her, and she didn't pull away from Rhett and responded to his kiss with her passion. He deepened the kiss, their tongues were dueling in a sweet battle of love.

"Rhett… Rhett…" Scarlett half whispered with poignant ardor.

Scarlett felt the tremor in his muscles, the damp sheen of sweat on his skin. His voice came husky and beseeching: "Scarlett, my love, my life, darling, I must have you, I can't stop… I don't want to stop…"

Scarlett could say him to stop. It wasn't late so far. But she wanted to caress his velvety skin, the curving ridge, and stretch her face toward his. She wanted to kiss him badly and deeply, show him with her tongue what she wanted from him. She wanted to fling her arms about his neck. She knew how to protect herself from pregnancy, so she could allow herself this night in his warm embrace.

"I am sorry," he whispered. "I am sorry," and she knew what he meant.

"Nothing to be sorry for," she retorted. "I also want you."

She looked up to meet his eyes. The passion in them kindled an instant response in her. Her heart suddenly filled with tenderness and love. She felt as though she was a young girl with romantic fantasies. But how much more dramatic it all seemed when she was indeed a girl of seventeen somewhere deeply in her heart? However, it was dangerous love, and she had to be careful this time.

"Wildcat!" he whispered into her ear. "You cast a spell over me many years ago."

Rhett took her hand, and they went to the bedroom. Scarlett looked up at Rhett as he put a finger to her lips and led her through the gauze curtains to the large bed, gently pushing her down on the fine satin sheets. She settled on the edge of the bed. For a moment he stood above her, contemplating her beauty, and she stared up at him with longing, her face flushed with desire, her lips parted in a secret seductive smile as passion had overcome her. The love symphony sounded louder and louder; they felt how an angel of love tenderly touched their hearts and joined them in love dance. The room was spinning around them, and everything seemed to flicker, like a flame caught in a draft.

He said: "You are to remove your clothing, my pet. I will be your maid today." His voice was clear and tender. He laughed out and began to unlace her.

Soon her gown, stockings, and corset were on the floor near the bed. Then she removed her chemise and climbed into the bed, covering her body by satin sheets. At the same time, Rhett undressed himself. Then he scooped up the candle, strolled to the fireplace and relit the wick from the flames. Walking slowly back to her bed, he watched as she was lying on the bed, her face flaming. He set the candle on the marble top of her bedside table and leaned over her, lifting her chin with his finger.

He kissed her shortly and suddenly broke the kiss, and they stared at each other for a moment with rising intensity of ever-surging passion. Scarlett looked at him with her emerald-green eyes, full of love and passion, which became of deep jade green color. Her body started trembling in Rhett's hands. Taking the initiative, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him hungrily and vehemently. Her bold actions by taking the lead in their lovemaking surprised and pleased Rhett. He was happy and responded with a great passion.

"Rhett, I have missed your passion…" Scarlett groaned as Rhett kissed the back of her neck and then the lobe of her ear. The simmering anger was dissolved in passion.

"Scarlett, nobody is like you… Believe me, my pet… "

"Take me madly, like it is the last day of Earth now."

Rhett lowered his eyes and looked right into her eyes. "Be the most obedient girl today, my lady." He removed the sheets and joined her in the bed.

"Rhett..." she began to speak but he again put a trembling finger to her lips. With a dashing smile, he reached out to pull her into his embrace.

At first, Rhett took her quickly as he wanted to release his accumulated passion with the only woman who gave him both physical and emotional comfort. Scarlett was crying from pleasure in his tender arms, and her body was trembling and falling apart into lots of small pieces. Rhett also exploded in his both physical and emotional release for the first time in the past two years. For the second time, their lovemaking was tender and gentle, and Scarlett was giving herself to him like it was the last time in all her life. Rhett felt the same, but couldn't explain this. Rhett noticed that most likely Scarlett hadn't had a man for a long time and was pleased with it. Scarlett was sweaty and exhausted as she was lying in Rhett's embrace, trying to catch her breath. He smiled at her, feeling incredibly proud of being able to bring her such pleasure and emotional release.

She stroked his hair, his back. "Rhett, what is it about the consequences?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well," she said in a quivering voice. She paused realizing what she wanted to say. "What if… what if…" She clung to his masculine chest. Her question sounded like half whisper.

"Darling, everything will be fine. I promise, my pet," Rhett murmured loungingly.

"I mean… what if…"

"What, Scarlett?" he demanded. He kissed her ear.

"What if I got pregnant by you now or in the past… Would you be happy?" Scarlett asked and gripped Rhett's right hand.

"Jesus Christ…"

"I would be happy, Rhett, if it happened."

"My darling, I am confused. I told you that I didn't want more children, my pet, at least not now."

"I see."

"You said you had problems after the miscarriage and that it was difficult for you to have your last children," Rhett sated.

"Yes, it is so."

"I don't think you will get pregnant. Why are you asking?" Rhett was puzzled by her questions.

"This is just a simple question," Scarlett snapped carelessly and closed her eyes to hide her anger and disappointment. Unshed tears formed in her eyes. Rhett didn't want her children, and it caused her a great pain.

"Don't think about it now. As you usually say, let's think tomorrow," Rhett answered, propping himself on his elbow and then leaning forward to hug her tightly. He kissed her deeply.

"Rhett, always remember that I loved you, whatever happens." Scarlett said and kissed him passionately into his lips. Rhett deepen the kiss probing the sweetness of her mouth, and they again began their fall in the vortex of flaming passion. He took her for the third time during this night.

Rhett was astonished, but said nothing. Instead, Rhett's lips came down on hers in a wet, open-mouthed kiss while his smooth, strong hands moved over her back, down her hips, then her legs. Then his hands returned to her shoulders and held them as he kissed her in her lips over and over again.

"I love you, Scarlett. Darling, you are mine at last," he rasped in her lips.

"I am yours for this night," she murmured, placing her hands on his backside.

It was a long intoxicating kiss that Scarlett wanted never to end. As he broke the kiss, she sighed with disappointment. Rhett looked down at her, and it was such an ambrosial picture: her rosy lips were swollen from his kisses, her pale green eyes turned jade green in passion, and her raven hair was tumbled on the pillow. He grinned at her and at last his mouth crushed on hers again. He began a lurid exploration of her face and shoulders, dropping light passionate kisses on the lids of her eyes, the lobe of her ear, her cheeks, her throat, and the sensitive area where her neck joined her shoulder. They made loved again.

Rhett was very skilled in the bedchamber, but only with Scarlett he had both physical and emotional release. Only with Scarlett he felt such a strong, yet tender delight in bringing pleasure to a woman. He had never left a woman wanting and had always considered himself to be a considerate lover. With Scarlett everything was different because giving her pleasure was more than taking pleasure himself. Of course, it was mare than simply trying to prove his prowess in the bed. He felt happy when he was with her, and joy flooded his heart as he saw that she was enjoying their encounter. He liked seeing her appreciation in her sighs. He loved her languid green eyes as she glanced at him in fiery ardor.

Their chests were heaving together as if one single heartbeat united them, Scarlett's hands dug into her lover's back. Where dream left off and reality began Scarlett couldn't say. All she knew was this was what she had wanted for a long time. She wanted Rhett and only Rhett. She wanted him and only him, despite everything that had happened between them and drove them apart. Scarlett was happy to have this night with Rhett, these dreamy moments when nothing else intruded on their world of two. She savored the feel of him within her and lovingly stroked his firm body.

Rhett rolled back to his side. She moved too in order to keep from disengaging him. His powerful hand lightly touched her temple and brushed away her raven hair, softly kissing her brow. He began to trace her features with a long finger, placing soft kisses on her eyelids, her nose. Then he came to brush gently on her mouth. She smelled his heat and enjoyed it. Scarlett kept her arms around Rhett's rock hard back, her face rested on his bare chest. She was laying in the peace of him, and she felt as though a deep contentment had washed over her. Later they both drifted to a peaceful sleep.

* * *

_Night of passion with Rhett... and another disappointment for Scarlett as he doesn't want to talk about the children. Do you have any thoughts what will happen next?_

_Reviews are always appreciated. Thank you very much in advance._


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

**"Love with falsehood, mortification, devil-may-careness, distrust…"**

Later, in the early hours of the morning, when Rhett was sleeping deeply, Scarlett accurately pulled Rhett's body away and climbed out of the bed. She went to the table, took a glass of water, poured out special powder of black cohosh, quite well-known in aristocratic Europe, into the water, and swallowed at one gulp with disgust because of the bitter taste of the herb. She did what Annabelle told her to do if she would have intimacy with Rhett in order to prevent pregnancy.

Then Scarlett went to the desk and settled into the chair. She raised her head and looked at the clock on the mantle. She had around three hours before the departure from the Charleston harbor. She took a quill and began writing. She felt devastated and numb. Now she had to write the letter for Rhett and leave him forever as she saw no good in the relations with a man who disgraced, humiliated, and hurt her, lied to her, and didn't want to have children with her, because he just was a coward protecting only himself, but not a woman whom he confessed and committed to love. Scarlett was absent-minded and devastated, and hollow and emptiness fulfilled her heart and soul.

"Rhett, it hurts to look at you when you are sleeping so peacefully," Scarlett mused obscurely. "An oath is an oath precisely because it is what you imagine. Some oaths should be forgotten. I would never be absolutely happy without you. Believe me, my darling Rhett, it is very difficult to write this letter. But how can you love me and say all this nonsense about children? I don't understand such a kind of cruel love. I don't want this love."

In half an hour, Scarlett wrote her farewell letter to Rhett. Her eyes dropped to the paper before her. She set it aside and drew out a fresh sheet, and with a steady hand she continued writing it in her copperplate writing. It was very difficult to write that letter up to the end.

"I took an oath to protect the secrets of mine. You don't want children with me. I am doing as you wish, Rhett. It hurts so much. I wanted to tell you. Why do I have all this atrocity from your side? Why, Rhett? Haven't you already punished me enough for my heartless treatment of you during our marriage?" Scarlett said to herself and felt cold spilling in her veins.

Scarlett put it in the envelope. On her tiptoes she came back to the bedside table and put the envelope there. Then, moving as noiseless and quickly as a panther, she headed to the dressing room. Not having a maid with her, she had to dress herself. She refused to wear a corset in that morning: she couldn't lace herself properly without a maid. In a rush, she put on the drawers, the slip, the petticoat, the underskirt, the camisole, and finally the Artistic French dress. She was happy that she had only one medium-sized trunk with her as the majority of her things had already been taken by Annabelle to France.

Having dressed with a certain difficulty, Scarlett finally looked at her former husband for a last time and quietly left the room, leaving Rhett Butler behind. She went downstairs of the hotel and paid for the room number. Scarlett hired the carriage and headed to Charleston harbor to board her ship with a sore heart. On this cold morning of December 3, 1875, she decided to leave the love of all her life behind.

Scarlett quickly got to the Charleston harbor. As the carriage stopped near one of the restaurants in the harbor and she paid to the coachman, she climbed out of the carriage. She was alone and didn't have many clothes with her. Everything was packed in one medium-sized trunk. She knew that in the harbor she would meet Fiona, the same young girl whom she took in the special agency as the personal maid just for her journey from Charleston to London two and a half years ago when she was fleeing the United States. Before she left Atlanta, Scarlett had telegrammed to the same agency in Savannah and had asked Fiona to accompany her on the trip from Charleston to France. As soon as she gets to Paris, Fiona will have to leave her there and return to the United States. It was their agreement. Now Scarlett was waiting for Fiona near the building of the restaurant where they agreed to meet. As she saw Fiona and the girl approached her, Scarlett gave to her trunk and went to the restaurant, while Fiona said she would arrange everything else before their beginning of their trip. Scarlett knew that she had one hour and a half more before the departure from the harbor.

As Scarlett left Fiona and came inside the restaurant, she put off her winter coat and took her place at the table. As she sat down and ordered the cup of coffee, many men around Scarlett looked around to glance at her. Scarlett was breathtakingly beautiful at that morning. Although she was wearing a simple Artistic silky dress of amber and bronze color, it fitted her perfectly well. The dress was comparatively plain and with long puffed sleeves, ornamented with embroidery in the art needlework style. Artistic dress was a new French fashion trend that rejected the highly structured and heavily trimmed French fashion of the day in favor of beautiful materials and simplicity of design. Scarlett wasn't a great fan of such dresses, but at times she preferred simplicity to her beloved and familiar extravagant dresses. Scarlett's simple but very charming and exquisitely fashioned gown was very beautiful and created an air of elegance with its slim classical lines and its combination of amber and bronze hues of the silk, being a perfect foil for Scarlett's coloring. A small bronze hat of the triangular shape covered the top of her head and finished in point at the back. The hat was attached by two bronze ribbons. Scarlett's hair was made in the so-called "imperial" hairstyle, which was a style in the times of _the Second French Empire_: her hairstyle was made by forming a broad tress in a diadem form, with flat bands not covering the ears. This style required a great deal of hair, but Scarlett's raven hair was perfect – long, thick, and flossy.

Even a simple Artistic dress attracted men's attention to Scarlett, and she enjoyed this. In this morning she enjoyed all her attire, despite the fact that she wasn't wearing Artistic dresses very often. She even enjoyed that she could feel the fine lace-trimmed lawn chemise and the softness of her silken petticoats and stockings. She smiled as she found that even the perfume she used in the morning had a wickedly intoxicating scent to everything around. Today Scarlett made exclusion even in her perfume, which was gardenia water, not her favorite lavender and violet water she favored among all the known perfumes. As she moved, a faint scent of gardenia lingered in the air around her.

Now Scarlett was sitting in a small restaurant in the Charleston harbor, which was the inlet formed by the junction of Ashley and Cooper rivers. Apparently, Charleston wasn't her city as she had never been happy there. She was crying in her mind for her broken life. She was suffering so much that her heart was tearing apart. She experienced the pain of profound loss, the pain of abandonment and loneliness. She felt deep heartbreak and emptiness when her love for Rhett was ripped out of her heart under his words that he didn't want children with her. Scarlett didn't notice the tears raining down her beautiful face and overlying her hard hearts. She swallowed hard and decided to write the letters to send them before the ship leaves Charleston harbor.

Scarlett wrote a special letter to Mathieu's cousin - _Frédéric Philippe Auguste de Harlay,_ _16th Count de Cesy._ Thinking about Annabelle, she decided to do everything possible to check whether her beloved _Marquis __François de Saint-Hérem_ had been indeed dead. She knew that Frédéric had been involved in _the Franco-Prussian War of 1870-1871_. Therefore, Frédéric could help them find something about mysterious François whom Annabelle had fallen in love a long time ago. Scarlett doubted that François had been killed in the war. Probably, what she was going to do was a blind desire to help Annabelle. Probably, it was her intuition. Scarlett didn't know what it was. However, she knew for sure that Annabelle hadn't checked the fact of his death. She also didn't try to find his grave. She simply believed people who informed her about Francois's death. Subconsciously, Scarlett hoped that François had been alive, although it wasn't likely after around five years of the end of the war and no word heard from him.

_Dear Frédéric,_

_I hope you are well._

_I haven't seen you for ages. I am currently in the Unites States due to the urgent family circumstances, but I will be back to France in around two weeks. I would call on you soon._

_Charles is fine. What a good and smart boy he is! He asked me to send him to the Royal Military Academy of France instead of the university in accordance with Mathieu's wishes. I want to discuss it with you._

_I have to ask you to do a favor for me. I know that you were wearing the King's scarlet on the side of France during the Franco-Prussian War of 1870-1871 and were in the command Headquarters of French army._

_I have one very close friend who lost her fiancé in this war. She hasn't heard from him during the past years after the war ended. I want to help her find him if he is alive or at least his grave. His name is __François Maximilian Xavier de Montmorin, 9th Marquis de Saint-Hérem and 14th Baron de Villeneuve._

_If you would please try to know something about this gentleman, I would be most grateful to you. I also ask you to keep this request between you and me so far._

_Thank you very much and see you soon in Paris._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Scarlett de Robillard de Bréveaux, Marquise de Bréval_

As Scarlett finished the letter to Mathieu's cousin Frédéric, memories about the Old South and her life in the States assaulted her with strength of volcanic eruption. She felt tears clogging her throat as demons of the past began to disturb her again. Still being at the restaurant in Charleston harbor, Scarlett raised her tearful eyes and looked around. Her downtrodden, tired gaze dropped at the unlimited expanse of the blue ocean in front of her sad green eyes. Momentarily, she recalled how many events were connected with the harbor – numerous bombardments, submarine attacks, and a final siege of _Fort Sumter_ during the civil war between the Old South and the North. Now, it was her life that was broken in this dreadful place. She felt as if she had surrendered to Rhett and his cruelty after the hardest struggle, which was very similar to the story of legendary _Fort Sumter_ – its fortifications and defenses didn't fall almost until the last months of the war, but finally also capitulated under the aggressive assaults of the Yankees.

Scarlett hastily raised her head and dashed her left hand across her watery eyes. Suddenly, she saw that the young, good-looking, blonde Yankee captain in the blue uniform cocked an eye on her, and in response her face screwed up in disgust. She also noticed a group of officers in blue uniforms with brass buttons as they marched on the street passing the Charleston harbor. Scarlett hated Charleston not only because of her heartache associated with this city, but also because despite the defeat of the Confederacy, the city was still patrolled by the Yankees armed forces due to its strong fortifications and being the important center for blockade running during the war. Looking at the Yankees, Scarlett dazed as that blue uniform with gold buttons reminded to her the fears of the siege of Atlanta, her poverty and starvation, as well as the excruciating work at Tara. Her heart galloped as her mind reproduced the sprawling body of the killed Yankee in the blue uniform in the red pool, the sewing box beside him, and Melanie in the ragged chemise with Charles' saber at the top of the stairs. She lifted her chin proudly and smiled lamentably through tears as all these events happened many years ago, but she still remembered them as though it had happened yesterday.

As a sense of reality claimed her back, Scarlett flinched in a new tide of pain that was brought by the memories. She took a quill and started writing a letter to her Aunts Eulalie and Pauline Robillard in Charleston. It had to be sent with a special purpose to make Silvia Dawson fall down from the top of her crown and grandeur. Scarlett's intention was not to be through with Silvia by having their conversation finished tête-à-tête. She aimed at Silvia's trepidation and Rhett's duplicity been disclosed to Charleston community. Not thinking about the consequences and driven by up-to-the-minute taste of revenge, Scarlett preferred to make the fact that Rhett asked her to marry him public.

_My dear Aunts Eulalie and Pauline,_

_I am so sorry for having a long break in our correspondence. My late husband Marquis Mathieu de Bréval died about a year ago, and, being deeply shocked by this tragedy, I was in my unblessed solitude with my grief and aches. I was adamant for attending exclusively various charity events and some art exhibitions to help myself overcome my sorrow._

_I know that you have been well and had nothing to complain about how my grandfather's lawyer treated you in terms of money allowance. If you need something, let me know and I will provide you with whatever you ask me for._

_I was at Tara for several weeks. I had to come there on an urgent basis because my lawyer sent me a message about Mammy, my old nanny, being sick and almost on the deathbed. Mammy died more than two weeks ago. My former husband Rhett Butler was also there as Mammy asked for him._

_On the day of her funeral, Tara was attacked by the gang of criminals who had robbed several plantations and local farms before they attacked at Tara. Unfortunately, I was shot during the incident and was sick for more than two weeks._

_I deliberately didn't tell you about my sickness earlier. Please, don't worry, my darlings. I am perfectly fine and safe now._

_When I was sick, Rhett Butler was sitting near my bed all the days. I feel very grateful to him. I helped me a lot. Please thank Mrs Eleanor Butler from me._

_Rhett also asked me to marry him again, but there were strange rumors that Rhett had a fiancée in Charleston. I don't know whom to believe, and I am trying to ignore gossips as people always believe the worst, which not always comes true. However, I am bewildered._

_I was also thinking about asking you to spend with me two weeks in London in the spring-summer. I intend to buy a new mansion there. Knowing your excellent taste, your help will be greatly appreciated._

_I would love to present you to your grandniece Annabelle de Robillard whom you most likely haven't ever met._

_My correspondence address is my usual address in Paris. I am off to Europe today._

_Take care and with the warmest hugs to you,_

_Scarlett_

Scarlett finished writing the letters and sealed them, handing to the servant and asking him to send them. Then she paid for the cup of coffee and left the restaurant, accompanied by the eyes worships of many men around. Fiona was waiting for her outside the building. She reported that Scarlett's things had already been loaded on the ship and that Scarlett had been granted a luxurious cabin in the first class. Soon Scarlett and Fiona boarded the ship, leaving Charleston and Rhett Butler behind.

As Scarlett and Fiona boarded the ship, Scarlett didn't go to her cabin and spent around half an hour on the deck. She was watching how Charleston and Rhett were leaving further and further from her. She felt a tingle of pain in her heart and coldness seizing her soul. There was no wind at all, not even the mildest of chilly breezes, and she continued staying on the deck, wrapped into her warm winter coat. She left the deck only when Fiona announced that an early breakfast would be served soon in the restaurant. Only a feeling of hunger made Scarlett leave for the restaurant as her stomach gave a sharper pinch and as it had had a constant queasiness since the moment she had left the Charleston Grand Hotel.

At the same time, Rhett Butler awoke in a happy mood in the luxury suite at the Charleston Grand Hotel, expecting to find Scarlett in the bed. He stretched his body along the white satin sheets and looked on the other side of the bed. He was astonished as she wasn't with him in the bedroom. She was also not in the bathroom or dressing room as he called her and no answer followed. Rhett didn't know what to think. Scarlett disappeared. Where was she? He hoped that she didn't leave him.

He went back to the bed, dragging his fingers through his hard black hair, when his glance fell on a letter on his bedside table. His heart started whimpering. He opened the envelope.

_Darling Rhett,_

_I would like to take this opportunity and thank you very much for your help during my recent illness and the salvage of Tara and all the household members. Thank you for being with Mammy on her deathbed. You cannot imagine how grateful I feel for you._

_When you wake up, I won't be in Charleston. Please, don't try to find me because it will make no good for both of us. This is just too late._

_I know much more that you could ever have imagined. I know that you have a fiancée in Charleston, Silvia Dawson, if I am not mistaken in her name. I know that you have a son from Belle Watling who lives in New Orleans and that you are his legal guardian, but not a legitimate father. The world is very small._

_You lied to me throughout our marriage about Belle's son. Your deceitful spell reached the time of my recent illness and oblivion when you proposed to marry me and were engaged to another lady. You want to become a Charlestonian gentleman, but you are acting like a bastard._

_What else don't I know? How many out-of-wedlock children do you have? How many fiancées?_

_There are gossips and gossipers, and some people know much more than you think they should and do know. You have underestimated some of your folks who disclosed your secrets and twisted you on your finger. You should be more careful in the future._

_I would like to underscore that it is not Belle Watling who told me about your son. I am doing this to make sure that you won't make a scandal for this poor woman, who, in my humble opinion, should be suffering a lot because of her son being a bastard and having his mother in a whore status._

_Rhett, I have always been of a higher opinion of you. How dare you not tell your son who you are? A boy has a right to know his father. A boy cannot be blamed for being conceived and born in this cruel and unfair world. He needs love and warmth from his parents. You won't buy him by paying his personal expenses._

_It is so low of you, Rhett. He is your child, and you treat him like a piece of trash and garbage. Don't you, fool, tell me that you care for your reputation and hence don't claim him. You told me once that reputation is what is to be seen in rags and buried my own reputation. You are a scoundrel and a scoundrel will be forever, even if you marry a proper Charleston lady._

_I would be of a higher opinion of you if you claim your son as Butler and make Belle stop running the whorehouse. I cannot understand how you could do this after you loved Bonnie so much._

_Your vile confession that you are not sure of loving idea to have more children with me, accompanied with the charade of your proclamation of undying love to me, is still screaming in my ears. How dare you tell me this before the night you want to spend with me?_

_You don't want more children, but you don't care whether any lady, including me, could get pregnant by you after a night of vehement passion. You don't care because it is not you who would be adversely affected and dishonored. All what a woman can get from you in this case is your irreverent scoff and polite indifference, damn her._

_Don't worry, I won't interfere into your plans and take your time to become a guardian of one more bastard. I won't get pregnant by you as I know how to prevent it._

_You were irritated by my calm indifference and polite nonchalance. What do you want from me? You tease and mock, jeer and burst into laugh, run away from personal problems and pregnant women (recall me after Ashley's party and, perhaps, some more cases in your life). You give money and buy presents and think that that is enough? This is not enough and will never be. I am tired of this masquerade._

_I told you that inside I am dead. Indeed, I have been dead since the day you pulled me out of the house in cold and darkness of the street wet from the pelting rain and later divorced me. I suffered a lot, and you even cannot imagine what you have left me with when you humiliated me, used like a whore and thrown away like a piece of trash. One day you will understand what you lost and why I am happy, despite being dead in my feelings in its direct sense._

_You are a charlatan who proclaims love where there is no hint for love. Or I simply don't understand such love, love with falsehood, mortification, devil-may-careness, distrust, and crown on the head of the great Rhett Butler. The tartness of your love knows no limits. It is not love, Rhett. Love is never associated with such a devilish string of soul-splitting, coarse things. It is illusion of love._

_Despite all what I said in this letter, I am still happy that I had a chance to meet you. You are a great man, Rhett. It is very difficult to meet such a person in this dying of boredom world. I appreciate time I spent with you and the lessons you taught me._

_I would like to add that I don't blame you on Bonnie's death and the death of our unborn child. I do apologize once again for the cruel words I told you when these tragedies happened._

_Remember, Rhett Butler, you are and will be the only man whom I truly loved and will love, but I don't want this sort of love. Anyway, I will never forget you._

_The past night meant nothing serious. Thank you for your time and consideration. It was pleasant._

_We are too much alike also for our own bad, both scandalous blackguards, but you also are fly-by-night man who forgets about the consequences of the nights with girls. In our case it is better to be apart. It was a very difficult decision for me, believe me, my darling Rhett. Out of sight - out of mind._

_I wish you all the best in your new life with your fiancée and your son from Belle. Claim him, Rhett, he is your son and it is not his fault that you are his father._

_Yours faithfully,_

_Scarlett de Robillard de Bréveaux, Marquise de Bréval_

Rhett Butler stiffened, and his face hardened. For endless minutes, he was dumb and motionless. There was no positive emotion left in him. Rhett sank in the nearby chair and buried his head in his hands as a flash of nausea stabbed and crushed him in half a shake. He didn't anticipate from Scarlett such bold actions. He didn't expect that she would leave for him such an accusing, unpleasant letter. This time it was he, not Scarlett, who was beaten and who was used, he mused. The absinthial feeling of shame enlaced his heart – shame how he had treated Scarlett as he left for her the destructive, mortifying farewell letter several years ago, as he had humiliated and had equaled her with scarlet woman. Rhett drew a heavy, agonizing breath and inferred that he had apparently underestimated the damage and destruction he had caused in their relations with Scarlett. Apparently, he had hurt her more than he had presupposed. Obviously, he didn't know something about her life.

He has always been proud of his rational, cool reasoning, his intelligence, and a wide life outlook. How could he be so wise, so intelligent, and actually drive a woman he loved away from him, no matter what she did or what he thought she did? Somehow, some way, he was going to find her and make him explain why he was acting in this way and what happened several years ago. He also wanted to hear her version of events. She could hurl the accusations in his face, for all she cared. She would hate him openly. She would stay indifferent, her green eyes will be absolutely impenetrable for him, and she would reject him with a stone face. The last variant was the most probable. In fact, he thought with a lamentable smile, that was undoubtedly how it would happen, because she wasn't going to listen to him after she had written a huge letter for him. What should he do now? She has already rejected him and his love in her letter. In this case, should he try to find her? His pride and self-esteem were wounded because he was rejected in such an affectionate manner. He felt dismayed.

After the night with Scarlett in Charleston, Rhett felt that his heart was broken. He realized that Scarlett ran away from him like he did several times in the past. Now he felt all the pain which he caused Scarlett twice in the past when he ran away from her with Bonnie to Europe after Ashley's birthday and after their last night in Charleston before the divorce. He also acutely grasped that Scarlett should have felt when he thrown her away from his house into the darkness and cold of the late autumn afternoon.

In accordance with Scarlett's letter, she was very angry at him and saw no further opportunities for them to be happy together. Rhett was sure that Scarlett loved him, but he wasn't so confident that she would forgive him after everything he had done. Rhett mused that she wanted to tell him something important, but he didn't know what. This talk about children should have hurt Scarlett deeply. Rhett was sure that she wanted to have more children with him, and he was so cruel with her and told her such dreadful, fierce things. Rhett was lost in the ocean of despair.

"Scarlett, what happened with you if you can leave me, loving me? My God, I did too much to her, even something that I don't know. Why was I so cruel in talking about children? Why did say it? I am a scoundrel," Rhett speculated silently, feeling self-disdain and jeering at himself.

Rhett got dressed, cunningly and hurriedly, packed his things, went out of the room number, and took the stairs down to the reception of the hotel. When he asked at the reception how much he had to pay for the room number, his face hardened as he was told that Scarlett had even paid for the room number. Rhett asked when Madame de Bréval had left the hotel and received the answer that it happened in the early hours of the morning. In addition, Rhett requested the receptionist to find out the schedule of the ships to England. Having looked through a thick record book, the stunned reception manager declared that early in the morning there was one ship from Charleston harbor to Southampton, England. Rhett swallowed hard several times in an attempt to compose himself, but alleviation didn't come on him. Apparently, she prepared for her escape from Charleston in advance. Scarlett was gone.

"Who told her about Belle's soon and Silvia?" Rhett thought at that dreadful moment of deprivation and self-disgust. "It should be Rosemary who could search through my personal things why I was out of Charleston. She hated Scarlett so much. Silvia can also be involved."

Rhett came outside the building of the Charleston Grand Hotel and rushed to the carriageway. He hired the carriage and headed to the Butler house on the Battery in order to talk to Rosemary and Silvia and decide what to do next. Looking outside the carriage, Rhett witnessed how smiling people were walking down the streets of the city of his birth. They talked to each other and certainly knew nothing about his troubles. Rhett wondered if everybody of all these people had ever experienced at least one third of the pain that had been eating his heart and soul for the past several years. Rhett's heart was suddenly dull with pain, with sorrow, with weariness, as he thought of the long road he had come since the early days of his youth and how much he had suffered.

The carriage stopped on the Battery in front of the two-storey yellow mansion with Doric columns, which Rhett bought for his mother after the war. He paid the coachmen and stepped off the carriage into the dim grayness of the street. He accelerated his footsteps and was near the house, having decided to unlock the door with his own key. Rhett entered the parlor and headed directly into the living room, a spacious room with brown wallpaper, wooden furniture of a purely classic style, large fireplace, and fine apricot carpets.

As Rhett stormed into the room, he discovered Rosemary, his mother Eleanor, and Silvia Dawson. They were sitting comfortably on a large sofa, drinking tea, and talking about the wedding. Three cups and a large tea pot were waiting for them on the square wooden table, standing near the sofa. Rhett shot a grin as nothing seemed to change in Charleston – the same tea party and the same idle talks. Once Rhett emerged in the living room, they stared at him in bewilderment.

"Rhett, you came back home. I heard the carriage came around to the front of the house, and I guessed that it was you. We have been waiting for your arrival for so long," Eleanor Butler greeted her son.

"Hello, mother, Silvia, and Rosemary," he began in a cool voice.

"Rhett, darling, I am happy that you returned at last," Silvia replied with a sweet smile.

"Hello Rhett," Rosemary said.

Rhett threw a condemning glance at Rosemary. "Rosemary, I need to talk to you."

Rosemary put her hands behind her back and crossing them. "Right now?" she asked.

As he looked at her, anger bubbled inside him, rising through his body like a head of foam. "Yes, right now. We don't need to talk in private. I just want to ask you, Rosemary, what did you tell Scarlett? You ransacked my study room and my bedroom, didn't you? And you found some interesting letters, didn't you?" Rhett addressed to Rosemary who was speechless and numb. He was standing in the middle of the room and staring at three frozen ladies, his eyes radiating with a mixture of anger, malice, and despair.

Rosemary's shoulders drooped despondently. She was frozen in the same pose on the sofa. She felt that Rhett wanted to say something about Scarlett. "Rhett… brother…" she stammered.

"Frightened of me to learn the truth? Stand up and look me at me," Rhett commanded, but she didn't move. He repeated the order: "Stand up!"

"Rhett, what happened?" Eleanor raised her voice. "Do you have any shame to talk so abruptly with your family? Did you wake up in bad mood?"

"Stand up!" he commanded. The words bolted through his chest. "The shame will be hers, mother."

He was talking in a very rude voice, while Rosemary was only mumbling something and was looking ahead in the emptiness of the room. Bitter resentment twined around his heart like sharp steel bands. He could never imagine that his own sister would do something to hurt him and destroy his life. Rhett approached the table with the tea pot and three half-empty cups. He leaned down, and his right open hand slammed down on the table with a crash that made the dishes dance and tea spill.

Rhett stared at Rosemary. His black eyes were radiating danger. Waves of anger seemed to ripple forth from his body and rattle the air between them. His back, already ramrod straight, stiffened even further. "Stand up and look at me. What do you see?"

Eleanor stood up from the sofa and came to Rhett. "Why are you talking to Rosemary in such an impolite, unpleasant tone?"

Rosemary shook her head, tired again, wavering. "Mother, I will deal with my brother by myself," Rosemary retorted.

"What the devil have you done, Rosemary?" Rhett attacked her, feeling a new wave of anger transfixing his body. "Damn you for your hoggish behavior! You are an ill-mannered fool!" he spat.

"Rhett, stop it!" Irritated, Eleanor showed at the table with spilled tea and said: "Rosemary, he has no right to talk to you in such a rude tone," she paused. Her gaze shifted to Rhett. "Son, be careful. What are you doing now?"

"Mother, I am talking only to Rosemary," he snapped in a tow, terrible voice and continued in a calmer manner, "Rosemary, answer me. No use to deny. I had to endeavor to reconcile myself to reality, Lord Rosemary. I didn't want to believe that you had done it."

A tense silence hung over them, audible and smothering. Rosemary sighed loudly over and over again, Rhett's breathing was erratic.

"Rhett… I… I did this… I went to her to Atlanta and told her everything… I want you to be happy," Rosemary was stammering. Without warning and against her will, tears started to form in her eyes. Soon they rolled down her pale cheeks as she stood glancing at Rhett like a delinquent child. "You need a proper woman, brother. Charleston is not a place for over-dressed women, over-furnished houses, for too much food and other vulgarity. And we all want you to live in Charleston."

"You want me to be happy? Did you ask me what I want, Rosemary? And don't insult her because you don't know what you are talking about." Rhett approached Rosemary. His hand clamped down painfully on her forearm, and at last she rose unsteadily.

"Rhett, she is not for you!" Rosemary tried to justify herself, looking at Rhett, straightly into his deep-black eyes. She could see the taut anger in the set of his jaw and in his eyes.

"Does Silvia know about? Answer me and tell me the truth. I need to hear only truth." Rhett elevated the voice again as a new wave of hot anger uplifted in his bloodstream and captured his heart. He didn't care for his sister's tears in the desire to learn the truth. His heart began to ponder in his chest with a new strength, harder and harder with each minute of their inculpating conversation.

"What happened? Why are you talking about Scarlett? Rhett, don't talk in such a rude tone to your sister. Look, Rhett! She is crying!" Eleanor exclaimed. "Look what you have done."

Eleanor rose to her feet from the sofa, approached her daughter and took her away from Rhett. She gave her a fine linen handkerchief. Rosemary blew her nose and pressed her head against Eleanor's shoulder. She sighed heavily and proudly raised her head, her blue eyes locked with Rhett's coal oval orbs. Now Rosemary was standing with her hands tightly clasped to her bosom, her eyes half closed, and small tears oozing from the corners. She looked like a great martyr who is ready to accept a kind of white martyrdom - dying to herself every day, nearly like Jesus Christ on the threshold of his crucifixion. In contrast to his sister, Rhett seemed to be in complete despair, being almost unable to maintain the air of cool indifference around him and ready to proceed to a red martyrdom by giving his life in a violent death.

"I told her everything because I don't want you to return to her. Silvia didn't know. It was my own initiative. I wanted to protect you from her because she made your life sordid," Rosemary's face solidified. Silvia raised her head and looked at Rosemary with intensive gaze. In her lie, Rosemary even didn't blink.

"Rosemary, you ruined my life. Look at me! You see a man in complete despair. I love her, and it will never change. But she will never forgive me now. You made me miserable," Rhett said sorrowfully and looked at three ladies with so blank and hollow glance that they all jerked back from him.

"Rhett, what happened with Scarlett? Rosemary, explain, please. Daughter, my darling, calm down," Eleanor did another attempt to clarify the situation. "Rhett, please, don't be so rude. What happened?"

"I want you to know that I have an out-of-wedlock son with one lady from Atlanta. Currently, I am his legal guardian, and officially he is not recognized as my son. I am going to claim him and give him my name – Butler – because he is my blood son. This is out-of-court," Rhett said imperatively.

"Rhett, what are you talking about, son?" Rhett's mother was confused.

"One more thing," Rhett said in an awful voice and paused. "I won't tolerate people cheating on me and deceiving me."

"I understand positively nothing," Eleanor admitted.

"Is that understood?" he asked as he stopped for a second and gave Rosemary a long, penetrating look. His voice was deep and penetrating, almost grieving.

"Yes," Rosemary whispered.

"Rhett, please explain what you mean," Eleanor implored, but he didn't listen to her and was already at the doorway.

The mad tide of rage receded within him. Now he wanted to be alone and to drink. "Mother, please ask Rosemary. Scarlett was absolutely right. She said that I must claim him. I support her proposal. Goodnight, ladies," Rhett said. Then he left the room, heading to his study with an intention to drink some whiskey and forget. By nightfall he was badly drunk.

"Rosemary, can you tell me, what happened? Rhett is in such despair," Eleanor looked at Rosemary interrogatively.

Rosemary shrugged. "Nothing serious happened, mother. Rhett will tell you when he calms down."

Rhett went directly into his study room. As he opened the door, he slid the key into the lock and turned it. He didn't want to be disturbed throughout the evening. As Rhett was alone in his study room, he approached the table in the corner room and swiftly reached for the decanter with whiskey. He poured out for himself a glass of whiskey and sloshed it in one single gulp. He spent the whole afternoon and a half of the night in the study room, drinking and thinking about what happened with him today. His mother Eleanor knocked at the door several times, but Rhett didn't answer, being absorbed into his thoughts. Rosemary didn't come, apparently trying to avoid Rhett. Throughout the evening and the night he was moderately drunk and left the study room only closer to the morning. He was sleeping during the whole next day.


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

**Rhett Butler's son with Belle Watling and Belle's life story**

When Scarlett's aunts Eulalie and Pauline Robillard visited Eleanor Butler's house, another scandal happened in Charleston around the Butler family. When Eulalie and Pauline showed Eleanor Scarlett's letter that she had written before boarding the ship, Eleanor was shocked. Eulalie and Pauline told other town scandalmongers about Scarlett's letter, and Rhett's proposal to Scarlett soon became the favorite subject for discussions on tea parties and charity events. When somebody from the Butlers walked outside the house, the lay audience began to wag their tongues, embarrassing Rosemary and Eleanor. Not only the proper community was gossiping: the gossips among the servants were spreading quickly, as Eleanor realized after she had had the misfortune to run afoul of one of her maids gossiping with the neighbors' servants about their master's recent proposal to his former wife.

Eleanor Butler was living in the atmosphere of perfect misunderstanding. When she demanded Rosemary Butler to tell her truthfully and in details what had happened between her and Rhett and why he had been so angry with his sister, Rosemary replied nothing and shrugged. No, she couldn't confess to her mother what awful things she had done. Rosemary was quite sane and rational, but nevertheless she just could not cope at the moment with her fears relative to Rhett's possible actions and strict measures applied to her. She could not believe how horribly awry her life had suddenly gone. She felt ruined because the plan they had worked out together with Silvia had nearly shattered. She was afraid that now she wouldn't be able to help Silvia with their plan and Scarlett, the most detestable creature for her, would come back to Rhett. Still, Rosemary was assured that Scarlett had been an evil creature that had brought and would always bring to Rhett only unhappiness, misery, and tragedies. Therefore, there was no other choice left, and Rosemary continued helping Silvia Dawson. Together they will somehow win, Rosemary thought.

Every day Eleanor witnessed that Rhett hadn't been himself. He slipped down to the same mental condition as he was drowning in after Bonnie's death and the divorce with Scarlett several years ago. Eleanor had no clue what had such a harsh effect on Rhett and resolved to talk to him. Unaware how Rhett would react to her new attempts to break the silent walls he built for himself to be estranged from the world, she entered the study room where Rhett was usually staying in complete solitude with the bottle of whiskey or scotch in the daytime or in the night. As she came in, her blue eyes scanned the room. The room was still pleasant and cheerful. The French door through which she had entered remained half-open. She glanced discreetly once again, but her gaze came back to the sofa. Glancing over her shoulder, she discovered Rhett sitting in the sofa, his hands cupping his face. A chill went through her at this picture.

"Rhett, darling, I want to talk to you about what you said to me in brief," Eleanor began and stared at her son who obviously was in strange, unearthly mood in the past days. She sat in the chair near the desk.

"It is not the best time now, mother. However, say what you want." Rhett rose and approached the desk. He sat down in chairs at his desk. He didn't look at Eleanor as he stared down on the papers on the desk.

"I want to ask you about the boy. Is he your son? I want to hear the truth from you. Please only the truth."

He lifted his eyes and stared at her. "Mother, I have a son with the lady whose name is Belle Watling."

"Who is this woman, son?"

"You can hardly consider her respectable, mother."

Eleanor arched a brow in silent question. "Hardly respectable?"

"Belle is a good woman. She lives in Atlanta. I have known her for ages. We got acquainted in New Orleans many years ago," Rhett replied merely. He decided not to enlighten the sort of Belle's occupation in order not to shock his mother.

"Is she… erm… from those women?"

He nodded miserably. "Yes."

"Son, why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"I couldn't tell you before because of the scandal. Nobody knew about it. The boy also didn't know that I am his father. I was only legal guardian in his eyes."

Eleanor's blue eyes locked with Rhett's black. She sent to him a disapproving glance. "Oh, Rhett! It is not correct for a boy not to know who his father is," she objected.

Rhett smiled vaguely. "I know, mother. Now I am going to correct my mistakes."

"Why didn't you tell me before?" Eleanor insisted.

"I couldn't do it," Rhett spat.

"Even given the circumstances of his birth, I am happy to have another grandchild... after our Bonnie… well… I am sorry for being so straightforward," the old lady said.

"It was Rosemary who ransacked my study room and the bedroom, discovering my letters to Belle and some letters to Scarlett. She was afraid that I would return to Scarlett and leave you in Charleston. Thus, Rosemary came to Atlanta and revealed my secrets to Scarlett," Rhett explained to his mother.

Eleanor's eyes flashed. "Rosemary shouldn't have done it. I have never taught her to do such shameful things. I do apologize for her," Eleanor said disappointedly and shook her head.

"You don't need to apologize, but you must know that I haven't forgiven Rosemary. Mother, I understand that she wants me to be happy as she affirms, but she didn't ask me what I think about her... erm... quite undignified methods."

"I agree, Rhett."

"I doubt you will believe me, but I honestly didn't want to cause Rosemary pain and trouble. I simply wanted to know what had happened and why she had done this." There was a coaxing note in his voice. "Maybe, I was very cruel with her. Perhaps, this madcap plan of mine to learn the truth was a bad idea."

Not meeting his gaze, Eleanor forced herself to say. "How did Scarlett react to the news, Rhett?"

"Scarlett was very disappointed with me as a man. She said that I lied to her and that she had always been of a higher opinion of me. She advised me to claim the boy and tell him that I am his blood father. Now I am only his legal guardian. His name is Robert. He is fifteen years old," Rhett's indifferent mask suddenly left his face, revealing respectful concern with the situation.

"I want to meet the boy. I agree that you should claim him, although the scandal will be reproachful and flagrant."

Rhett's voice was calm, but so low that his mother realized his frustration. "I will do it."

"I support."

"I have already talked to my lawyer and now will speak with Belle. I am going to Atlanta in a couple of days to meet Belle."

"Rhett, what else happened between you and Scarlett? Did you ask her to marry you?"

"How do you know about it?"

"Her aunts, Eulalie and Pauline, notified me. They showed me her letter she sent to them on the day of her departure to Europe," Eleanor said.

"Mother, it is true. I asked Scarlett to marry me. I love her, although I tried to persuade myself that I hate her and she didn't love me. I gave myself so many oaths to forget her in the past years, but they all had faded away when I saw her at Tara and she was shot after the attack of those wretched criminals."

"What did you do in Atlanta? Did you see Scarlett? Did you tell her that you are engaged to Silvia?"

"I didn't tell her about Silvia, but I wanted to talk to Silvia when I came back to Charleston. I could do it only when Scarlett felt better and there was no threat to her health."

Eleanor drew a deep breath. "I see."

"We took Scarlett to Atlanta to the doctor because only in this case she could survive after the accident. I spent all the time near her bed when she was sick. Rosemary went to Atlanta to her," Rhett's voice was intermittent due to his emotional unrest.

"I understand, Rhett. I am glad that she survived."

"Thank you, mother. You cannot imagine what I felt when I thought I would lose her."

"How does Scarlett feel now? Where is she?"

"Scarlett is fine. She should be on her way to France or somewhere else in Europe."

"Oh!" Eleanor breathed. "But she was sick…"

"Scarlett wanted to leave for Europe before the Christmas. She has two children with her late husband. She wanted to spend Christmas with them," Rhett explained.

"What did she say when you proposed? What does she feel for you?" Eleanor asked curiously.

"Scarlett didn't accept. But she didn't deny."

Eleanor arched an eyebrow. "What does it mean, Rhett?" She lifted her body from the chair and leapt to her feet.

"She said that she needed time and that she was emotionally dead inside."

"Why did she say that?"

"Scarlett is still hurting. She is grieving for Bonnie. Besides, her late husband _Marquis Mathieu de Bréval_ died some time ago. Last month, Ashley Wilkes, her childhood friend, was shot at Tara, and Scarlett blames herself. Mammy, Scarlett's lifelong nanny, also died last month."

"Poor Scarlett!" Eleanor exclaimed. She was still standing in the same pose. She didn't come closer to Rhett. "So many tragedies! Is that all, Rhett?"

"I don't know, mother," he replied. "But the things I hear from her now, the things I sense, odd instances of this and that… I can't put it into words, exactly. But something is strange. Something else happened with Scarlett. Some other things happened, and I don't know what they are like. However, maybe, it is just my imagination."

Eleanor eased back into her chair, every sense alert. "What sort of things?"

Rhett tented his fingers together atop the fine white paper, fingertip against fingertip. "If I knew that, mother, I would have taken action by now. I would have done many things differently."

"Then how can you help Scarlett?"

"That, you see, is the trouble." Rhett drummed his fingertips together. "I don't exactly what I can do. Scarlett was in Charleston with me for some time. I didn't come home at that time. I am sure that she knew about everything what Rosemary told her because she behaved rather strangely. But still, there was something else. Or is that my imagination?"

"Good Lord, Rhett! You were with her when you are engaged to Silvia?"

Rhett didn't blink. His voice was steady. "Yes."

"How could you do this, son?" she said, and then her eyes widened an instant. "It is not acceptable for a gentleman!" Eleanor was exasperated.

"I wanted to be with her and I was." Rhett glanced down at the papers. "I am terribly sorry if you don't like it."

"How could Scarlett do this? She seems to be a lady and is widely accepted in European upper-class community," Eleanor exclaimed in embarrassment and bewilderment. Her cheeks flushed.

"Scarlett loves me. She told me this, and I saw it. I comprehend what she meant by being emotionally dead. After all what I have done to her… I mean everything before divorce and after divorce… This time she treated me in a similar way as I treated her. She punished me. But I don't blame her because I deserved this," he cleared his throat and looked at his mother with intensity.

"Rhett, you punished each other. Now you continue tormenting each other," Eleanor said in melancholy.

"You wanted truth, mother. I told you the truth. Scarlett is a powerful and rich woman, but only a woman. And she loves me. Flesh is weak, as it is said. In fact, we are so much alike with her."

"Don't be a brazen man, son! What will you do with Scarlett? Have you already decided? Why did she leave you? What did she say?" Eleanor was ready to strew a tide of questions at Rhett.

"Scarlett left me a very sad farewell letter, in which she said that she doesn't understand why I lied to her about my illegitimate son from Belle and my relations with Silvia. She called me a charlatan who proclaims love where there is no hint for love."

"I understand her because you hurt her deeply. She claims she loves you, but nevertheless, she ran away from you? Will you pursue her?" Eleanor asked and glanced at Rhett with a silent question.

"My former wife said that she associates my love with falsehood, mortification, and distrust. I don't remember what else. But she is correct, mother. I lied to her, disgraced her with divorce, and treated her like a piece of trash and a loose woman. You don't know all the details, some of them are very shameful," Rhett said to his mother who was in horror from what her son just revealed to her.

"Oh, Rhett!" Eleanor sighed. "You have always been such an unusual boy. But at times I don't understand you."

"I don't understand myself either. I didn't think what I was doing two years ago. I didn't think that the damage would be so deep and incurable. She will never forgive me. I even told her that I don't want to have children with her," Rhett's eyes were dead, and he seemed indifferent even to himself.

"Rhett, all what you have done is very sad. You deceived Scarlett and Silvia. I agree with Scarlett that you hurt her deeply and excessively hard. But take into account that Scarlett ran away from you," Eleanor said.

Rhett turned and skewered Eleanor with a hard gaze from his black eyes. "What are you working up to, mother?" He leapt to his feet, approached the table near the window, and poured a glass of whiskey.

"Scarlett has children with her last husband, and they are not yours. She made you live through loveless marriage. She also did a bunch of improper things," Eleanor paused.

"Go on," he encouraged.

"I want to ask you, son, do you really want to marry again an unladylike, ill-mannered woman?" Eleanor again paused. She hesitated as she wasn't sure she was doing a right thing now. Maybe, she didn't have any right to say these offensive words.

"Go on," he repeated, his voice very low.

"Do you want to be a father for children who are not yours?" Eleanor sighed heavily and closed her eyes to compose herself.

Rhett's voice dripped with scorn. "Come now. How the devil can you talk about Scarlett in such a scurrilous manner?"

She cast an apologetic glance at her son. "Rhett, I beg my pardon for intruding into your life and for being so straightforward."

"Don't say so about Scarlett. Otherwise each time you insult her, I won't respond to you," he said sternly. His voice gained strength with the force of righteous conviction that his mother was saying wrong things. There was both promise and warning in his voice. "I am also not a proper gentleman, mother. I have always been a black sheep in the Butler family. I would be ready to marry Scarlett with or without children from another man, if she wanted to be with me. In fact, I am not sure that I want more children after Bonnie died. Scarlett asked me about the opportunity to have more children with me. But I was a fool to tell her that I cannot lose my heart again." Rhett burst into loud laugh, and this laugh outburst made Miss Eleanor be scared for her son.

"You fool." Eleanor shook her head and stared down on the floor.

"I know," he nodded.

"Rhett, you told Scarlett this nonsense, didn't you?"

Rhett nodded. "Yes, I did."

Belle only sighed. "I see the extent of your cruelty. There were always severity and atrocity in your marriage with Scarlett."

"Maybe."

Her gaze searched his. "Rhett, do you want this again?"

"Mother, I am the first person to be blamed. I did so many wrong things throughout our marriage. You don't know everything. I fear Scarlett will never forgive me and forget the tragedies and my mistakes."

"What I want to say is that you both have done enough to each other. And marriage is not only about love, but also about peace, understanding, and respect. Maybe, you should marry Silvia and try to find your happiness with her. She loves you dearly," Eleanor said with hope.

"I don't love Silvia. But Scarlett doesn't want me. It is evident," he said thoughtfully. He extracted the cigar and lit it.

"Imagine the scandal if you cancel your engagement."

Rhett shut his eyes. "I can imagine."

"Think about it, Rhett. Scarlett doesn't want you. Maybe, you will do nothing. You need to settle down and make a lodgment permanently somewhere. Why not in Charleston? We are not getting younger, son," Eleanor took Rhett's hands and smiled softly.

"Mother, I should think about it," Rhett said.

"There are lots of gossips in the town that you asked your former wife to marry you being engaged to Silvia. But it will be forgotten soon. Also, Scarlett told about this to Eulalie and Pauline intentionally… It is not good from her side," Rhett's mother added.

"I am confused about Scarlett's intentions. But I deserved it. I deserved it," Rhett answered regrettably.

"Rhett, I want you to have peace and stability. Silvia won't run away from you, like Scarlett."

"Mother, Scarlett ran away because I pushed her to do this indirectly. It is my entire fault."

"Besides, I don't want to blacken our reputation with one more formidable scandal. Our respectability was lying in ashes for a long time, but my only desire is to revitalize it. I agree that you should claim the boy as he is a Butler and your only child, but it will ruin us if you break your engagement," Eleanor bewailed to Rhett.

Rhett failed to suppress his wide sardonic smile. "Always this goddamned reputation… " He paused to clear his throat. Then he went on. "I have public mind, conventionalities, and respectability from the bottom of my heart!"

"Rhett, please don't say so."

He folded his hands on his lap. "I am sorry, mother." There was an insult in his tone.

"I am not prone to blow up another scandal. Think about me and your sister," his mother was displeased with Rhett's words.

"Reputation is not always appropriate. If Scarlett continues keeping silent and doesn't reach me soon, it means that she doesn't want me. Till the time I can understand what Scarlett is going to do, I won't cancel my engagement just for you, mother," Rhett pronounced and sighed heavily.

Rhett stretched his long legs ahead in an attempt to relax his body, but no relief came to him. He stood up from the black velvet armchair. For an instance he didn't move. Then he approached the table in the corner of the room near the window, and took another cigar from the monogrammed silver case. He lit the cigar and inhaled. Then he glanced at and through his mother.

"Thank you, Rhett. I want you to be happy, son."

"Mother, my happiness remained somewhere behind in my life. I missed my boat," a sharp verdict from Rhett followed. He exhaled the smoke of tobacco with all his lunges.

"No, son, you should find your happiness. You can do that."

"Mother, please don't patronize me. I am not a school boy," Rhett said crossly, his face hardened.

"Rhett, I am just giving you a delicate advice," Eleanor countered him.

"Thank you for your advice, mother," he said in a mocking tone. "I acted as a perfect fool, and you know about that. I didn't mean to ruin so many things in my life. I just wanted to dampen that terrible pain in my heart." He showed at his heart.

"Don't repine on it, son. There will be other chances."

"Do you think so?" he asked, leaning forward, trying to see her expression as he sat across from her. He shrugged, his eyes darkened and his voice deepened. "Since you don't intend to abandon your endeavors to find a wife for me, maybe sooner or later I will marry."

"Rhett, you don't want to listen to me. You have messed up everything in your life," Eleanor declared, shooting at him a disgruntled look, and stood up. Ignoring his presence, she began to pace around the room with that restless energy that was such an innate part of her. She stopped and looked at him. "You need to go to your bedroom now. I am positive that sleep would not be long in coming to you."

"Well then, I am going to my rooms upstairs." He coughed behind his hand and left.

Rhett was completely flummoxed by Scarlett's intentions of mentioning to her aunts that he asked her to marry him. He came to the conclusion that Scarlett wanted to besmirch his reputation like he disgraced and dishonored her with the divorce. Now Rhett felt angry with her and he was sure that she would never forgive him. Maybe, in this case he should act in accordance with the initial plan to become a proper Charleston gentleman and restore the reputation of his family. His relations with Scarlett were so chaotic and unstable, and he was exhausted and emotionally drained. All he wanted were peace and mollification. He was lost in himself again. The question what to do with Silvia remained opened.

Rhett went to Atlanta to Belle to talk to her about their son Robert and tell her that his intention was to claim him as Butler. A comedic paradox was that Scarlett's conduct made him likewise reconsider his point of view about children, especially when he visited Bonnie's grave at Oakland Cemetery. He spent half an hour near his daughter's grave, talking to her and asking for forgiveness for letting her jump on that dreadful day of the horse accident. He also asked Scarlett to forgive him for his cruel and fierce words. He realized eventually that he would be pleased to have children with her, but she no longer wanted him and he couldn't compel her to be with him, as he convinced himself in his mind.

Rhett began his trip to Atlanta from visiting Bonnie's grave at Oakland Cemetery. Rhett was standing and silently praying to God to forgive him that on that dreadful day he had allowed his daughter to jump on her pony. Rhett cursed himself that he had been such a caring, loving father who, however, had failed to save his dear blue-eyed angel. He was silently talking to Bonnie, as though she had been alive. Rhett bent his head down and felt how tears were spilling on his swarthy face. He brushed them away by the back of the hand. Then he leaned down and put a bouquet of white chrysanthemums on the grave. He always bought for Bonnie those flowers as she loved them dearly throughout her short life.

Rhett went straight to Belle's establishment after his visit to the cemetery. On his way to the downtown of Atlanta he met Mrs Elsing and Mrs Merriweather who waved his hands as they remarked him. Then they began to discuss something, but Rhett didn't care. He paused and formally bowed to both of them. The old matrons forced themselves to smile to Rhett. Then he continued his way to Belle. He had to see her on the urgent basis in order to talk to her about their son Robert whom he was going to claim as his legal son.

Rhett reached the two-storied red building and greeted the girls, asking them to tell Belle that he was there. He made his way upstairs to his old room he had had at this establishment for many years. As he was hurrying up the stairs, he tried to imagine Belle's face when he would say to her that he would claim their son Robert. It would be interesting to watch Belle's face at that moment, he mused, smiling to himself. As he was finally in his bedchamber, he approached the sofa and shrank onto it. He was waiting for Belle to come to him, wasting little time in contemplation of the furnishings. Then he heard the rustle of fabric of woman's skirts. His eyes fixed on the door. The door opened and Belle came inside. Rhett sprang to his feet and approached smiling Belle.

Rhett greeted Belle with a kiss on her cheek as se closed the door with a firm thrust. "Hello Belle. How are you doing?"

Belle was pleased to see him. "I am fine, Rhett. I am delighted to see you, as always."

Rhett's eyes swept over Belle's appearance. His gaze registered that Belle was wearing the chiffon day gown of dark blue color, with its sleeves and the medium-length train trimmed with several rows of light blue ribbons and with the massive set of white laces. The neckline was cut as indecent as it was possible to imagine, stressing Belle's full breasts. Rhett also noticed that Belle's skin above her neckline was covered by some powder, her face also being excessively powdered and vividly painted. He had never liked that Belle used so much powder. Her red hair was loose, falling down her back. Belle looked older than her true age.

Rhett cocked his eyes. "You look very good, Belle."

Belle only laughed. "Rhett, don't joke. I know that I have put on some kilos. I have lost weight, but put it on again."

"Belle, it doesn't spoil you," Rhett appeased her.

A teasing smile tugged Belle's sensual lips. "Should I perceive it as mollification?"

"No, Belle. I am saying the truth." Rhett smiled. Having decided to jump right to the main topic, he smiled with a broad, slow smile. "I have a surprise for you."

A warm smile illuminated Belle's face. "What kind of surprise, Rhett?"

"Belle, I want to claim Robert as my own son," Rhett announced crisply.

"What? Rhett, are you joking?" She felt the tears form at the corners of her eyes and fought them off with hard blinks. She didn't know whether she was dreaming that her most cherished dream can realize.

"I will give Robert my name and tell him that I am his farther. I have already talked to my lawyer. He will visit you soon. I also want you to stop running the whorehouse," Rhett said.

Belle began to think that Rhett wasn't himself when he offered to claim their son. "It is such a scandal for your proper life," she smirked. She smiled sweetly with her bottom lip still trembling from excitement.

"I am not joking, Belle. It is Scarlett. You should say thankful words to my former wife."

Belle stared at him. "Scarlett…" She was at loss. She didn't know what to say and to think.

"What, Belle?"

"Rhett, what happened? Does she know?"

"Many things happened," he said in a low voice. Then his voice took a higher octave. "But I am not joking that I will claim Robert. I am absolutely serious."

Belle was shocked with what Rhett said. "Thank you, Rhett. I didn't expect it."

"I will do it for Robert, as well as for you and for me," he said in a soft voice. Then his voice turned to commanding. "You will stop running the whorehouse."

Belle found herself devoid of words and composure. Her jaw as though swung helplessly below his brain. "But Rhett…"

"You will do it, Belle. You will leave with Robert in New Orleans. I will pay for everything. You will stop running this brothel." His voice sounded like a verdict, like a final resolution.

"But Rhett…" she repeated.

"I meant what I said," he declared loudly.

Belle's cheeks turned crimson. "Alright," she drawled. Her eyes overflowed, tracking tears of happiness down her cheeks; she brushed them away with her fists.

"Belle, take my handicriften." Rhett smiled heartily. "I think you need it."

"Thank you, Rhett. Now tell me what happened," she said as she took Rhett's black satin handicriften.

"My sister Rosemary searched through my personal things and found letters to you. She realized that I have a son with you and told Scarlett the truth about my engagement to Silvia and our son. I spent a night with Scarlett in Charleston. We made love throughout the night, and we both were faint-inducing from the vortex of passion we dissolved in."

Belle blew her nose. She can guess what happened next. Belle was not a fool. In reality, Belle was tired as she made so many attempts to make Rhett alive, to sober him. She didn't want Rhett to harm himself, but it appeared that she could do nothing. "What happened next, Rhett? She ran away from you, didn't she?" Belle finished.

Rhett shook his head in agreement. "Yes, Belle, she did. In the morning I found a letter for me. You can look through it."

"I will do it now," she said numbly as she unfolded the sheet of paper.

"Belle, Scarlett ashamed me and advised to claim Robert. And I think she was correct. Robert is my only son and a Butler. I owe him too many years fo normal life."

Rhett gave Scarlett's farewell letter to Belle who stared at him in horror and in bewilderment. Indeed, Belle couldn't predict such turn of events.

Belle decided that she had to tell Rhett that Scarlett had visited her before she left Atlanta. She was afraid of his reaction if he knew that Scarlett was there, but she had to tell him. "Rhett, I must confess," Belle broke off. She was stunned, almost numb from fear and confusion.

"Pray continue."

"Well, Scarlett had come to me before she had left Atlanta," Belle said. She dropped her eyes at the sheet of paper and started reading Scarlett's elegant handwriting.

Rhett sighed. "I guessed that she had visited you."

Belle's eyes grew wider with each line of the letter. She paused in reading and lifted her eyes at Rhett. "Scarlett asked me to confirm whether it was truth about Robert," she muttered under her breath. "I told her that it was truth. I am sorry. I didn't have any way out of the situation. She knew everything."

"Don't worry, Belle. It is not your fault. She knew in either case," he answered in undertone.

"In either case?" Belle smiled obscuredly.

"Yes."

Belle's smile deepened, revealing a well-placed dimple next to her plump mouth. "Rhett, she loves you. I am absolutely sure."

Rhett shook his head as though in disbelief. "I don't know. I am so confused."

"From what I see she wanted to tell you something. Why did you tell her that you don't want children with her? It is so cruel and mean, darling," Belle murmured. She felt pity for Scarlett and was angry with Rhett. She thought that he was an idiot.

"Scarlett wanted to give me a lesson. She succeeded on this occasion," Rhett explained. "She punished me like I punished myself for loving her and her for loving Ashley and our loveless marriage."

Her voice was very soft. "Christ in Heaven, Rhett! Scarlett loves you."

"I don't know."

"You are a fool because you said too many cruel things to her. You are such a cad and moron to people who love you, Rhett. I have a feeling that she wanted to say something important to you, but you put her off doing it," Belle exclaimed, then paused and continued. "Go and find her before you regret. And you will regret and very soon. You are stubborn to the end of the world."

"She wanted to get rid of me. I will wait and see what she wants to do. She will never forgive me," Rhett poured a glass of whiskey and sipped some burning liquid.

"You should have a heart-to-heart conversation with Scarlett," she recommended.

He swallowed hard and then swallowed again, feeling how whiskey flooded his stomach. "Probably."

"Rhett, go to Europe and find her in Paris. I am a woman, and I know what I am saying. Stop playing games with each other. Somebody needs to cease it," Belle elicited.

"Belle, I cannot do the first step to her now. She insulted me," Rhett objected in his stubbornness and lit the cigar. Cigars calmed him down and helped to concentrate.

"Don't be a fool and don't tell me that you will marry Silvia," Belle's eyes lost their fire in her powerlessness to prove to Rhett that he needed to find Scarlett.

"I am very tired and I want to find my peace. I am atrophied of emotions and exhausted physically. Scarlett is loath to me," Rhett muttered under his breath, rose to his feet, approached the window, and stared outside in the darkness of the empty street.

"Rhett, darling, you are a fool. If you intend to marry Silvia, you will have to make it through another loveless marriage. It would be even worse than in the marriage with Scarlett," Belle wanted to persuade Rhett not to make irredeemable mistakes and spoil his own life.

"Belle, I am so tired… I am getting old."

"Hardly, especially in the bed," Belle mocked.

"Belle, don't mock me."

"I am just stating a fact."

"Scarlett is keeping silent. Besides, I am mad at her because of the treatment she provided me with."

"Darling, I understand. But you need to think better about your life on cool head," Belle attempted again.

"Enough, Belle! Stop it immediately. I will claim Robert, and soon we will come to New Orleans to talk to him. I will tell him all the truth that I am his blood father. I no longer will be his guardian. You will stop running the whorehouse, at least officially. What else do you need from me?" Rhett summed up. He sipped more whiskey up to the moment he fell asleep in the chair and Belle had to put him in the bed.

"Nothing, Rhett. Nothing. Calm down, please," Belle replied briefly. She took the decanter and poured another glass of whiskey, stepped forward to Rhett, and handed a glass to him. She said in nearly sardonic voice and laughed at Rhett: "Drink this, darling. Maybe, it will enlighten your thoughts."

"Belle, don't treat me like one of your other clients. If I said I don't want to talk about Scarlett, it means that I don't." Rhett's voice was sodden with anger. He took the glassed and tossed it to his throat with one abrupt movement of his arm.

"Alright, Rhett. I do apologize. You know, Rhett, you were my only client in the past years as I stopped working like my girls many years ago. I am only running the business," Belle laughed sadly.

"I know about it. I am sorry, Belle." Rhett shrugged, fatigue creeping in his voice. "I am truly sorry."

In a month, Rhett Butler's lawyer Mr Edward Devillers announced that all the documents were ready to make Robert Rhett's soon on a legal basis/ As a result, his name was changed to _Robert Arthur Butler_ from _Robert Arthur Watling_.

Belle named the boy in the honor of her beloved elder brother _Robert Arthur Watling_ who died many years ago. The life of the Watling family had never been easy. Belle and Robert's father _Martin Arthur Watling_, an incorrigible debaucher and a gamester, left them with a huge debt after his death. Belle's father Martin managed to create that debt because he had lost at the card-table the entire little dowry that his deceased wife Jeanne had brought into their marriage. It seemed as though the name of Martin Watling was known in every saloon and every rookery in Natchez in Mississippi State where Belle was born and raised.

Her brother Robert was the closest person to Belle. After Martin Watling's death, together Belle and Robert somehow managed to be afloat for some years. Belle's brother Robert worked and at times played poker or piquet at saloons. At times, Robert won some money, and in that case the Watling family was overjoyed as they could redeem some of their debt and pay their rent in their small shabby house in the suburbs of Natchez. However, one day Robert caught cold in the winter and died from pneumonia. At that time, Belle was eighteen years old. Belle was in complete despair after Robert's death as she didn't have any money to pay rent and even to buy food for herself. She found a shelter at her friend's apartment, but soon she had to leave it. Belle was starving and had to spent nights at the railway station or in the park. However, it couldn't last forever because Belle needed so survive.

Therefore, after her brother's death, Belle had nothing to do, but to resign to a cruel fate and become a prostitute. Belle took the job of a prostitute at the local brothel of Natchez where she was accepted without any questions. Later Belle also used to live for some years in various towns of Mississippi. Then Belle relocated to New Orleans in Louisiana where Creole culture created a frivolous atmosphere of relaxation and enjoyment for both men and women, especially those who had money. Prostitution had its roots in the very foundation of the city and continued to play a prominent part for many years to come. It was well-known that some of the very first female settlers in New Orleans were prostitutes who were released from French prisons. During the war with the Yankees, the occupying Union Army found the whorehouses to their liking. As a reaction to the above, many new bawdry houses were opened along the old basin canal. In the 1870s, the most famous Madame of New Orleans, _Josie Arlington_, formally opened her own bordello in this neighborhood.

For Belle Watling, who desperately needed money, working in New Orleans was an ideal option. She continued paying the debt of her father Martin, and she also needed money to support herself financially. In New Orleans, Belle managed to earn much more than she had earned in various places in Mississippi, including Natchez. Belle began to gradually pay a part of her debt. She even managed to rent a small house with a picturesque view on the Mississippi River. Belle wasn't happy as she had to lead a life she wasn't accustomed to from her birth. However, the more years passed, the fewer times Belle remembered her former life. However, each time she realized that she was a prostitute, she was ready to let out a bitter laugh at her miserable fate. If her brother Robert hadn't died, Belle would have always been an honorable woman, but a very poor woman.

Although she usually used vinegar in order to preserve herself from pregnancy, it didn't help Belle once. She got pregnant by an unknown client, but she had a miscarriage in two months. At the end of the third year of her life in New Orleans, Belle met Rhett Butler who was the client at the bordello where she worked. At that moment, Rhett was drinking heavily and was playing poker with other visitors. At three hours in the morning, Rhett was completely intoxicated and asked for a girl to sleep with for the rest of the night. Belle and Rhett ended up in the same bedroom. In the morning, Rhett said that he would spend several months in New Orleans on business and offered Belle the role of his paid mistress for several months. Fascinated by the dashing, rich man, Belle agreed and soon moved into Rhett's luxurious mansion he rented in the centre of the city. They shared the bed each night, giving physical pleasure to each other. Neither Rhett, nor Belle knew how it happened, but in three months Belle discovered that she had been pregnant by her new lover.

Belle knew that Rhett would never marry a prostitute and even a girl from such a poor family as the Watlings were. As Belle told Rhett about her pregnancy, Rhett said that he would take care of the child, becoming his legal guardian. He also made Belle promise that she would never tell the child the truth, at least not till the moment Rhett gave his permission to her to reveal the truth. Rhett stated that they mustn't harm the child by understanding that Rhett could have never married his mother. Thus, Rhett concluded that it would be better to keep silent that he was the child's real father. Soon Rhett left New Orleans and returned when Belle was predicted to have labor. Everything happened in accordance with their expectations, and Belle gave birth to the healthy boy whom she named _Robert Arthur Watling._ Rhett took little Robert and put him at one of the local boarding schools. Then he left New Orleans.

The next five years Belle continued to work in New Orleans. Rhett periodically visited Belle and their son, and each time he slept with Belle. However, Rhett became too cautious as he didn't wish to have another child with Belle. She often visited her beloved son at that boarding school. Belle loved her son dearly because for her the boy was a product of her love for Rhett – Belle had fallen in love with that rich, dashing renegade who took more than her heart. And it was the greatest personal tragedy of her whole life as she could never expect something more than a usual friendship and desire to share a bed for physical pleasure from Rhett's side. Despite everything, Belle had always loved Rhett wholeheartedly and tried to give him everything she could – her friendship. When Robert was five years old, Belle moved to Georgia in order to open her own whorehouse there on the money Rhett gave her. That was Belle's life, and she couldn't change her past.

* * *

_This is my version of the events that happened between Rhett and Belle. I know that many readers want Bonnie to be Rhett's only child. However, I have never believed that Rhett had never had a child out of wedlock. He was such a womanizer! But the major issue is that Rhett didn't appear to be rather honorable in the original book, being a renegade, a cynic, and a complete outcast. I tend to think that womanizers might not have an out-of-wedlock child only if they are a little bit more honorable than Rhett Butler was in the original book. There will be one hero in this story who is also a womanizer, but a more honorable man, as I wanted him to ve portrayed – he is Philippe, the Duke of Aylesbury._

_In addition we know that Rhett had often been drinking heavily at saloons and whorehouses where he finally ended up in the bed with one of pretty girls. It is a very real variant for Rhett. And when men are very drunk, they cannot be sure that they were careful enough and didn't impregnate the women they were sleeping with._

_Rhett would never abandon completely his own child. Thus, he could become his legal guardian. I consider it to be a rather realistic turn of events. _

_I am sorry, but I am not too romantic to suppose that Rhett had a child only with Scarlett. At least, my version of events is possible in reality._

_I am also sorry if you don't like it. But is it so bad that Rhett has another child?_

_Each author has his/her own opinion._

_Thank you very much. Reviews are greatly appreciated. _


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

**Back to Europe to social life and Annabelle**

A fine black carriage stopped in front of a huge medieval castle located almost in _le Bois de Boulogne, or the Woods of Boulogne_, which was known as the ancient hunting grounds for the kings of France from as far back as _King Dagobert_ who lived in the 7th century when it used to be an enormous forest, including the _forest of Montmorency, forest of Saint-Germain-en-Laye_ and _the woods of Chaville and Meudon_. Under the current regime of the _Third Republic of France_, _the Woods of Boulogne_ represented vast green areas with delight walkers and horse riders, as well as the hunting area for the richest _bourgeoisie_ and the old French aristocrats. Around the area, many rich people had their castles and mansions, which were usually used as weekend retreat.

Two well-dressed ladies in fur mantles stepped out of the carriage and walked to the front door of the castle. They arrived from the annual Christmas ball at the mansion of _the President of the Third Republic of France - Patrice de Mac-Mahon, 1st Duke de Magenta._ A dark winter sky with frosty stars was clouded, but still a weak moonlight slanted across the light-brown stone columns of the castle. The elegant garden surrounding the castle looked in nearly unearthly way under the moon, exhibiting its serene, romantic charm. Two ladies came through the main grand hall and made their way to the small reception room, the interior of which was decorated with richly ornamented woodcarving and marble on the floor and columns. This was the estate of the Robillard family, former de Morville, which was in the possession of _Madame Annabelle de Morville_ or _Madame Annabelle de Robillard_ as she called herself.

As they were slowly and gracefully coming along the hall to the entrance of the small reception room, Scarlett and Annabelle were vivacious and cheerful. They were singing both in French and in English and laughing loudly and sincerely, telling anecdotes to each other and discussing people from the ball in one of the nearest castles they have just attended. Followed by Scarlett, Annabelle noiselessly opened a large wooden door and entered in the room in twilight.

"Mathilde, Severine, please bring more lamps and candles! It is too dark there," Annabelle exclaimed in French.

"Yes, Madame Annabelle," the girls responded in chorus.

"Thank you, girls."

Several young maids appeared, fussing around the room. They brought several lamps and lit them. Soon, a long row of candles in candlesticks also appeared in the room. Annabelle took one of the candles and set it on the tall exotic woods marquetry floral chest of drawers with the marble top. Annabelle settled comfortably in a settee in mahogany of _Louis XVI style_, made of beech and patted with floral print chenille fabric.

"Darling, can you imagine that I didn't know what a French settee is ten years ago?" Scarlett laughed and removed her massive sapphire necklace, putting it on the rosewood jewelry table with marble top. "Rhett laughed at me when he caught me at this unfamiliarity."

"I can, why not?" Annabelle's eyebrows curved. "Not everybody from the young belles in the American South knew such details of French furniture and decor."

"You are right, but anyway…"

"I think," Annabelle enunciated, "that the fact that you didn't know these things is purely a matter of inexperienced teachers and isolated life in the Old South."

"It is truth. Now I feel like I didn't know so many useful things," Scarlett replied and sank in the nearby to Annabelle's settee in mahogany.

"It is always good to learn new things. When I was fifteen and even eighteen, I also wasn't interested in the décor. I just saw beautiful dresses and wanted them. But at that time I had nothing, Scarlett."

Scarlett collapsed on the sofa and raised her hands over her head. "I know, darling. Let's forget sad things for today."

Annabelle joined her on the sofa. "I agree."

"The ball was amazing," Scarlett exclaimed joyfully.

"My darling, I agree. I also liked the ball."

"Undoubtedly, the best ball in the whole season."

"You came back to Europe and Paris to the best social events in the past six months, if not more," Annabelle answered, stood up and removed her diamond necklace on the jewelry table.

"I am looking forward to attend another ball on the New Year's Eve."

"So am I." Annabelle's grey eyes had lit the moment they rested on Scarlett, and she smiled.

"What I like in the Christmas balls at _Duke Patrice de Magenta_'s mansion is that they usually provide the audience with six waltzes in a single ball."

"You danced two waltzes with the Duke of Aylesbury, one waltz with Jasper, and one waltz with each of _Duke Alain de Rohan_, _Duke Louis de La Trémoïlle_, and _Marquis_ _César_ _de La Tour-Maubourg_," Annabelle commented.

She smiled, the green eyes dancing with amusement. "Exactly, my watchful lady," she laughed merely, her face luminous with an inner radiance. "I noticed that you also danced two waltzes with _Marquis_ _César_ _de La Tour-Maubourg_, one waltz with Aylesbury, and one with Jasper. Then I lost you."

Annabelle looked at her friend with a broad grin. Then she laughed outright. "I was with Jasper in the refreshment area," she finally said.

A sparkle came to Scarlett's eyes, suppressed excitement written all over her face. "I see." Scarlett smiled.

"What are you smiling so strangely?" Annabelle asked. Her tone was lightly suspicious.

Scarlett stared at her. "Annabelle, I know that you absolutely love France. But do you feel in yourself something from the Scottish?"

"Oh, God! Never tell me about my Scottish blood," she seethed. A peaceful expression on her face was gone. "Scarlett, I am pure French in both my heart and my soul."

Scarlett's beautiful brows rose slightly. "But you mother Gwendolyn was from Scotland. And if I am not mistaken, her family had very old nobility there."

Annabelle's answer came rather gravely. "Well," she drawled. "My grandfather was _James William Cunningham, 17th Earl of Glencairn._ Can you imagine seventeen earls?"

"Yes, I can."

"Actually, the 1st Earl of Glencairn had secured the title in 1450. There were so many earls because they had constantly participated in the wars for independents. Many of them were killed, and one Earl changed another earl," Annabelle enlightened.

"Where is the family estate or castle?"

To choke back the temper that was making her whole body tremble at any thought about the Scottish people, Annabelle inhaled and exhaled. Then she began to speak, her voice high-pitched, sonorous. "It is in the County of Dumfries, the south of Scotland. It is very beautiful there. The surface of the county near the sea-coast is gradually rising towards the middle portion into ridges of hills of moderate elevation, and it is intersected with huge fertile vales. In the north the surface becomes mountainous."

"It sounds like it is beautiful," Scarlett admitted.

"Scotland is indeed very beautiful, especially in the warm time. Winters are very cold there." Annabelle reached for Scarlett's shoulder to attract her attention. "Scarlett, if you want to visit Scotland, it is better to ask Marguerite's son Lord Marchmont to escort us to his medieval castle near Edinburgh."

"Oh, it would be nice, but at first we must go to Ireland."

Annabelle nodded. "Indeed." Then she glanced over a room, and a vague, melancholic smile stirred her thin lips. The she flinched as she recalled her mother's story. "Scarlett, I just don't like my Scottish blood because I hate what her family had done to my mother Gwendolyn. Her family had ordered her to marry one Scottish man, but she had rejected. Instead, she secretly had got married to my father Vincent. As a result, her family cursed her and expunged her name from the family Bible. The Scottish had always been so nationalistic. They fiercely disapproved of my mother's marriage to a French nobleman. Finally, my parents had to flee the United Kingdom to France. My mother even hadn't had her clothes with her – everything had been bought by my father."

"I remember this story as you told me about it a year ago," Scarlett remarked.

"Yes."

"Rhett's father also expelled him from the family and blacked out his name in the family Bible."

Annabelle shrugged helplessly. "You see sometimes strange things happen."

"Scarlett, the Scottish people are very different from the French." Annabelle removed her opera-length black gloves with sixteen buttons. "Do you know how they are different?"

Scarlett shook her head in uncertainty. "I can only guess."

With a little, quivering sigh, Annabelle gave herself up to the talk about the Scottish. "Well, the Scottish people are extremely patriotic and nationalistic, at times violent and rugged, and hateful to idleness and extravagance. They are usually very honorable and never breach the given world. It was only my mother's clash with her family, and I am not blaming the whole nation for it. However, the Scottish nationalism and loyalty to the folkways significantly contributed to the violent resistance of my mother's family to her matrimony."

"I understand, darling." Scarlett glanced at her with a soft-hearted gaze. She released herself from her black sheer nylon opera-length gloves. As she threw the gloves on the sofa, she laughed. "Oh, this is definitely not about you. You do love extravagance so much," she commented.

Annabelle smiled back. "Yes, I love luxury and extravagance, but beautiful, exquisite extravagance. I love spending money and enjoying life. But at times I can be very wild and even violent, if I am infuriated. Perhaps, I had taken these traits from the Scottish."

"Most likely," Scarlett agreed. Then her mind traveled back to the Duke of Aylesbury, like it often happened. "Annabelle, the Duke of Aylesbury and his sons Jasper and Morgan are spending Christmas again in Paris, not in London."

"It is not unusual." Annabelle's voice was throaty with emotion. She screwed up her face. "Given that Aylesbury has such a terrible wife, I am not astonished that he spends Christmas in Paris. Georgette Anne Robillard-Arden can be in the bed with one of her countless lovers now."

"Unfortunately, it is a very probable scenario," Scarlett shook her head, her eyes turned sad.

"Minuet was brilliant!"

"It is so. I am lucky to be able to dance it." A happy, unshadowed smile touched Scarlett's lips and lit her green eyes from within.

"I also like minuet," Annabelle stated flatly. "It is a very beautiful, moderately-rhymed dance. Minuet was King _Louis XIV_'s favorite dance."

"_Louis XIV_ named it "Queen of dances," Scarlett supplemented.

"You remember everything that your dance teacher told you," Annabelle laughed. "Good girl."

"Of course, I remember."

"Oh," Annabelle breathed. "Many balls and routs are scheduled for next month."

"I will miss the next three parties at our friends to spend time with children in Paris," Scarlett said. She began to undo the hairpins from her hair, which was gathered at the crown, twisted and knotted to amazingly beautiful sculpture.

"I am glad you had a good time. You were so lamentable and reserved when you arrived from the United States."

"Oh, Annabelle," Scarlett breathed. "I had a hard time in the South."

"I know about it, and I know the reasons. Do you want me to help you with the hairpins?" Annabelle asked Scarlett.

"Thank you, darling. I appreciate your help. Otherwise maids will have to come, and we will be unable to talk."

"So, what happened with Rhett? You were so secretive after your arrival, and I decided not to disturb you. From your letter, I understood that Mammy died and Ashley is also dead… Please, accept my sincere condolences."

"My story will sound like a fairy tale, and you need to be patient. When I arrived at Tara after you and children had left Atlanta, Rhett was already there. We behaved like strangers till the day Mammy died. I call this a cat-and-mouse game. I saw that he was shocked with my polite indifference and nonchalance," Scarlett chuckled.

"I can imagine, my dear. It should have been funny to look at him," Annabelle giggled and smiled ironically.

Scarlett glared at her friend with a saturnine grin. "I daresay it was entertaining for me."

A wide derisory smile manifested on Annabelle's face. "Holy Mother of God! The great Rhett Butler can no longer read his former wife's thoughts!"

"Rhett was watching me on a day-to-day basis, but he didn't make any attempts to stay alone with me and never began a conversation," Scarlett said while Annabelle extracted the last hairpin, and Scarlett's hair fell in all its luxury on her shoulders and back.

"I can imagine how dumbfounded he was. At times even I don't know what is going on in your head, Scarlett," Annabelle's voice was mocking and her bottom lip twisted in a sarcastic smile.

"Rhett didn't expect that I had learnt the art of masquerade so well. Both apathy and indifference are a sort of living in oblivion. They are like a disease to both, you and me, darling. Some days I hate it, but some days I long for it," Scarlett claimed in a low voice.

"What happened next? You mentioned in your letter that you wanted to teach him a lesson. What did you do?" Annabelle asked with genuine curiosity.

"On the day of Mammy's death, we had a conversation after the funeral. Rhett said that he regretted that he had divorced me and apologized for the cruel words in his farewell letter. He also asked to tell him what I promised to Mammy on her deathbed. We were unable to continue the conversation because we were attacked by the gang of criminals in the evening after the funeral. Later I was lucky to have a gunshot wound," Scarlett paused and cleared her throat.

Annabelle gasped, staring at Scarlett in horror. "Good heavens! A gunshot wound!"

"A simple gunshot wound."

"How did this happen?"

"The gang of criminals attacked Tara and I was shot. As a result, I was very sick, and Rhett was nursing me day-and-night. I spent more than a week in restless oblivion and was delirious. When I awoke, he said that he loved me and proposed to marry him. But he didn't inform me that he was engaged to another lady from Charleston. Rhett also didn't tell me about his illegitimate son from Belle Wanting, that red-haired creature from the whorehouse in the downtown of Atlanta. Do you remember her?"

Annabelle's voice trembled with fury. "What a bastard! I remember her relatively well. We met her near the train station in Atlanta."

"Exactly, Annabelle," Scarlett confirmed. "That woman with a heavily, vulgarly painted face was Miss Belle Watling."

"Who told you about Rhett's fiancée and his son? What a damn scum he is!" Annabelle roared in anger.

"Rhett is a brute and lowdown cad… His fiancée Silvia came to me in Atlanta when I was sick. The mistress of the house, where I was staying in Atlanta, told me that another lady was waiting for Silvia in the parlor. I think it was Rosemary Butler, Rhett's sister. Silvia introduced as my friend from Charleston. She narrated the whole story and asked me to stay away from Rhett. I was grief-stricken, but I didn't show it and masked by traditional aloofness and nonchalance."

"You decided to teach this rascal the rules of proper behavior with ladies, didn't you?" Annabelle smirked and poured two glasses of wine, giving one to Scarlett.

"Exactly, my dear Annabelle, I told him nothing about her visit. I went to Charleston, and Rhett met me there. We spent a night in the hotel and made love. In the early morning, when he was sleeping peacefully, I ran away from him and left him a very detailed note, which I remember quite well," Scarlett took the glass of wine and stared at Annabelle. She sloshed a glassful and half closed her eyes.

"This is interesting, but sorrowful story."

"Yes, it is."

"Tell me everything in details, please," Annabelle asked softly.

Scarlett told Annabelle the whole story in details. Annabelle was flabbergasted by Rhett's behavior and agreed with Scarlett's interpretation of his actions as lowdown, violent, dreadful, and stupid. She supported Scarlett in her decision to punish her former husband in order to show him what it is to be used only for physical pleasure and abandoned immediately after the night. When Scarlett paraphrased the farewell letter to Rhett, Annabelle's face expressed a lingering, sad smile. She hugged Scarlett tightly, trying to console her as Annabelle saw a string of conflicting emotions running through her face. Annabelle knew that Scarlett's soul was covered by layers of hardened emotions and coldness, but was naturally sensitive and worn-out on the back of tragedies and sufferings in her life. Annabelle witnessed how pain and sorrow in Scarlett's heart finally crystallized into a human mask she was wearing so proudly and almost naturally for the outside world and how she usually dropped it in her gorgeous solitude. In a daytime the old, well-trained indifferent mask was always back across Scarlett's face.

When Scarlett was telling her story, Annabelle saw radiating light and warmth, which are usually stolen away once the night is changed by day. Annabelle knew that it was necessary to possess mental strength in abundance to wear such a mask. She and Scarlett were so much alike that understood even subtle, tiny undertones of their mood and behavior.

"My conclusion is that Rhett Butler is a foolish bastard. I liked the letter you left for him. It is fair that you taught him a lesson. Somebody should recall him from his dreams to the land. Don't regret," Annabelle sighed with relief and added, "The words about his unwillingness or reluctance to have children with you are atrocious."

"Annabelle… I just don't understand… He doesn't want to turn his blind eyes to what he is doing and saying… He doesn't think that his words hurt so much…"

"Rhett is extremely arrogant and has overstated self-esteem. You wounded his ego harshly, Scarlett."

"I know. But I hope that this lesson will help him fall from the sky. I hope that at present Rhett understands how it is to feel when you are treated like a prostitute and a piece of trash. It was a very difficult and painful decision for me, but after what he told me about children I just couldn't disclose him the truth." A pause followed. Scarlett felt that her pulse quickened. Then a tremble of her shoulders followed. "He doesn't need us and children especially, although he is committed to the marriage and acclaims his undying love for me. Comical paradox and grotesque…"

"Darling, Rhett is simply a coward in personal affairs. He can be smart in business, but asshole and fool in private life."

"I agree. He is a damned coward, Annabelle."

"It was stupid not to tell you about Silvia. You could have learnt about his engagement from many people. Gossips are everywhere, and Charleston is not far from Atlanta," Annabelle said thoughtfully.

"I agree. I wonder what he will do now. Despair gives courage to a coward, Annabelle," Scarlett closed her emerald eyes and sighed deeply in her attempts to compose herself.

"You will wait and see, won't you? I understand your reasoning. I would act in a similar way."

"If Rhett loves me, he will fight for me. If not, then I will let him go, my dear," Scarlett said sorrowfully.

"Scarlett, you have his children. Eventually, you will have to tell him, sooner or later. Besides, you want to protect your own heart, but in the end it will cause you even more pain. You love him from the bottom of your heart. Don't deny it because I will never believe you."

"I know that I will have to tell him the truth eventually. Probably, I will send him a letter soon if my much-vaunted Irish courage assists me. Perhaps, I will write the letter to him today and leave it undated," Scarlett simpered and laughed outright.

"Will Rhett claim his illegitimate son with that woman and leave Silvia?" Annabelle inquired and crossed her arms with a heavy sigh. She didn't like the behavior of her friend's former husband.

"I have no clue, Annabelle. If he claims his son, it would be a never-to-be-forgotten scandal," Scarlett smirked wryly and raised her eyebrows. She rose to her feet, approached the table with a bottle of wine, poured two glasses, and handed one to Annabelle. Scarlett wanted a drink to appease and relax.

"I hope that after the night of passion with him you did what I told you to do with the powder of black cohosh in order to prevent pregnancy?" Annabelle asked anxiously and sipped some wine.

"Yes, don't worry. Thank you for this powder herb," Scarlett's words followed. A rush of relief pervaded her whole being as she had relaxed, again realizing that she wouldn't be pregnant by her former husband this time.

"You are welcome, darling."

"Rhett should be happy that I did as he wished. I mean that I haven't got pregnant by him this time," Scarlett laughed heartedly and stared at Annabelle with gratitude.

"No, you haven't. No worries, please. Scarlett, be candid with yourself - you love him. Even if he is a coward, you cannot suffer throughout the whole life," Annabelle noticed confidently, luxuriating in a woman-to-woman talk with the only person who never reproved and always understood her.

"God's nightgown, Annabelle!" Scarlett exclaimed wistfully, her face hardened slightly, and her pale green eyes went blank. With a certain effort, she forced herself to shrug lightly and smile. "I want to hate him. The boundaries between hatred and love are so twiggy and intangible."

"I hope Rhett will break his engagement to Silvia and will find you. This would be the best outcome. Otherwise you will have to send him a letter in several months," Annabelle lifted her body from a red French canapé and approached the window.

"Maybe, Annabelle, maybe… But I will never forgive him. I cannot… I am heartbroken and oppressed after his words…" Scarlett acquiesced with her friend and closed her eyes. She felt how a strong wave of pain, wrench, disbelief, and despondency swelled in her whole body. She couldn't comprehend how Rhett could have betrayed her in such a blood-minded way when in fact he had renounced from his own children.

What was the use to love Rhett? No man could ever understand what Scarlett felt at that moment. She was not such an utter fool who could so simply surrender to a man who had nearly ruined her life several years ago. How could she believe him that he had loved her and that he had been sorry for the divorce and for the disgrace and for the sufferings his barbaric actions had caused? Rhett had adored and had loved and had cherished her at the beginning of their marriage, but she had pushed him away. Many years later, on the day of Melanie's death, she had realized that she had loved him, and she had confessed to him her feelings, but he had pushed her away and had humiliated her. Throughout their marriage till the divorce, Rhett betrayed her time after time. Even when he was deeply in love with her and she didn't respond to his feelings, Rhett's craving for change, even probably this male irresistible urge to polygamy, was part of the very essence of Rhett as a man who had so many women in his bed. And now, when Mammy died, Rhett confessed that he had always loved Scarlett. What should she think now? And yet, however much Scarlett reasoned with herself, she couldn't ease the dull pain in the region of her heart as she wanted to be with him and she liked his kisses, but their relationship had always been so tormenting for both of them. What they felt to each other was like a tormenting obsession.

To push away thoughts about Rhett, Scarlett tried to poison herself with venom that always swelled in her heart as she began to remember Rhett's transgressions and mistakes. She remembered everything bad Rhett had done to her, beginning from his nasty barbs often thrown right into her face and finishing with her fall from the staircase in their house in Atlanta and the divorce initiated by Rhett. Scarlett was amazed how many mistakes Rhett had made and how many harmful, adverse lessons she received from her late husband, both before and during their marriage. Probably, she still had some feelings to him, and she admitted it. However, she found the strengths to open her eyes to the truth. Yes, it was Rhett who taught her to play his sophisticated, insincere games of impersonal, polite indifference and make masquerade of herself. It was Rhett who told her that he understood people and could differentiate between the cheap and the great, the natural and the hypocritical, and he indubitably could do it.

Rhett managed to live together in self-masquerade, pretending that he didn't notice that when he didn't need and maneuvering with and among all this trumpery, clinquant, falsehood, and hypocrisy if it suited him. Rhett submerged in this masquerade, which didn't bring happiness and joy to him, with the only exception for only his ill-gotten gains. Moreover, he dragged Scarlett in this world, and she wasn't clever and wise enough to resist him. Scarlett has already recognized their mutual fault for the failure of their marriage and interpersonal relations, but now she again doubted whether Rhett could ever be less protective of himself when he proclaims his love to her and then abandons her. It was Rhett who pushed her to the unreal world of luxuriance and splendor in his blind desire to make Scarlett love him by virtually buying her love. Perhaps, he could have guided her better in their mutual life earlier as he was older and cleverer, Scarlett mused. But Rhett failed to do it.

"Oh, Scarlett," Annabelle breathed.

"In addition, I have those games Rhett liked to play. I am fed up with his self-masquerade!" she exclaimed. "And he betrayed me so many times!"

"Scarlett, eventually you must tell Rhett the truth, even if he doesn't want the children and even in the past he betrayed you."

Scarlett shook her head. "I don't know."

Annabelle looked at her with a strict gaze. "You must do this. "

"In a convenient moment," Scarlett retorted.

"Scarlett, I support your actions as you left Rhett Butler in Charleston. He needs to be put in your skin and bones, but you need to think about children. Moreover, you promised Mammy to be happy. You won't be happy, if you don't tell him and continue keeping this secret." Annabelle turned away from the window and her eyelashes fluttered down.

"You remember _Marquis_ _François de Saint-_ _Hérem,_ don't you?"

A brief smile flitted across Scarlett's face. "Yes. I do."

"Scarlett, you remember that François died in that cursed war, and I never had a chance to tell him again that I loved only him. I didn't tell him that I would never forget him."

"Oh, I understand."

"I would love to have his child, my son René, close to me. I want René to live with me. So I decided to adopt him. I don't care what people will think about me."

"Darling, you have made up a wise decision regarding your son. You had already lost one son from official marriage, your precious Lancelot."

Annabelle shut her eyes. "Yes, my dear Lancelot."

Scarlett's apologetic, sorrowful glance fell on Annabelle. "I am sorry for my straightforwardness."

"Don't worry, my dear. You did nothing wrong." Annabelle approached Scarlett and looked up into her eyes with a swift imploring glance that expressed the agony of heartbreak and melancholy. "You must tell Rhett even if he doesn't fight for you."

"Annabelle, please don't touch this topic." Her throat closed with a tight ache of pain in her heart as her friend mentioned Rhett Butler.

Annabelle determinedly brushed away every objection. Hands on her slender hips, a warning gleam in the grey eyes, she said: "Only if Rhett doesn't react to the news, you will be able to forget. But you must tell him."

"Annabelle, I will do it in a suitable moment, but not now."

"Alright." Annabelle raised her hands as she surrendered.

"Darling, I sent a letter to Mathieu's cousin _Frédéric Philippe Auguste_ _de Harlay, 16th Count de Cesy_. He served in the command Headquarters of French army during _the Franco-Prussian War of 1870-1871_."

Annabelle looked bewildered. "What did you do?"

"I wrote a letter to Mathieu's cousin Frédéric to find François," Scarlett repeated.

"What did you say in this letter? Thank you for your concern," Annabelle jabbered.

"I said that my close friend lost her fiancé in this war and hasn't heard from him for the past years. I asked Frédéric to help us find out whether François is alive. Perhaps, we will be able to identify his grave in the worst case. I will call on Frédéric next week."

"My darling, thank you very much. Maybe, I will come to his grave and pray for him. Maybe, he will forgive me," Annabelle muttered in hope.

"You have nothing to thank me for. Let's wait and see. I hope he is alive," Scarlett said and looked down on the marble floor, then raised her head and smiled softly.

"Scarlett, two blackguards can stop playing their games only if one of them ceases to be blackguard, quits the game or somebody else has to interfere and make them stop fighting. I hope in your case Rhett will be the first to quit the game," Annabelle said heartedly and smiled at her friend sincerely.

"Alternatively, blackguards should be allies, in contrast to Rhett and me," Scarlett laughed suddenly and steered back to their topic. "_La petite femme skunk fatale_."

"We are blackguards, and we are so much alike. Sometimes it destroys happiness, you know, darling."

"I am not sure that my mother would be happy to see me now. She would have been disappointed to have a daughter who has become a blackguard," Scarlett said with an infuriating chuckle.

"Your mother?" Annabelle raised her brows. "If you think that your mother even knew what you would be like in your adulthood, you deceive yourself!"

"My mother was a proper lady, and I am not."

"Answer just one question. Would you be happy if you were leading a life of a proper lady, Scarlett?"

"No, I wouldn't. I am not sure."

"You wouldn't be happy with your energetic and independent character. So forget about this," Annabelle recommended and gave her an innocent stare.

Scarlett shrugged and even managed to smile. "By all means, I will do it."

They continued talking about gossips, card-parties, balls, art exhibitions, and charity events. Each of them was happy just in this moment of pure joy and opportunity to pour her heart out to a person who is so much alike and understands you perfectly. Their friendship helped them survive through tough moments of their lives and assisted them mentally, as well as physically by releasing emotional pain in chaotic sudden outbursts of tormented souls. They were able to doff their usual masks in front of each other to connect with their true spirits and walk deeply into inner worlds of their hearts, exploring their natural divine origins.

That night Scarlett stayed with Annabelle at her castle. She woke up on the sunrise and went to the study downstairs. Scarlett settled in a chair near the desk and wrote the undated letter to Rhett. At breakfast with children and Annabelle, Scarlett showed the letter to Annabelle who approved it.

Scarlett handed the letter to Annabelle and stared at her interrogatively. "Annabelle, look through this letter I wrote to Rhett. I left it undated."

"It is good. I like it," Annabelle commented.

"What about the style?"

"It is written in a hard, imperative style, but straight to the point. You are explaining to him your reasons why you hadn't told Rhett about the children earlier. At the same time, you don't humiliate yourself. In this letter you are presented as a proud and offended lady. It is important." Annabelle returned the letter to Scarlett and placed her fingers on Scarlett's arm.

"I am glad you like the letter. I don't want to press him too hard. I also added the reference to the lawyers. In fact, it is true. He cannot take them away from me," Scarlett stated quietly.

"Put the letter in the chest of drawer in the corner of the room. You cannot hold it in your hands forever. Relax and eat, my green-eyed elfin," Annabelle answered. Then she took Blanche in her hands. She was enjoying Scarlett's children.

Scarlett took Isabelle in her hands, hugging her daughter and whispering her sweet, soft words. "My darling little princess, I love you, my dear Isabelle," Scarlett said. In response, her daughter's midnight green eyes sparkled in reciprocal feeling of love for her mother. Blanche, the blue-eyed girl, raised her head and looked up at Scarlett.

Annabelle laughed. "Be careful, Scarlett. Blanche is a very jealous young girl."

Then Scarlett's maids Leontine and Amelie came and took the children to the nursery, so that Scarlett and Annabelle could have normal breakfast.

Then she looked up at Annabelle. "Annabelle, I will put it there and collect later. I am staying with the children all the next week without going out. Or alternatively we can organize the party at my mansion. I would be happy to do this," Scarlett said.

Annabelle nodded as she sipped coffee. "I would go for it."

"Oh, I support." Scarlett put in her mouth a large piece of French bread and sipped coffee.

"Your children are a miracle!" Annabelle exclaimed.

"You will be a queen when you grow up… a great woman. And you, Blanche, will be a great leader. Look at her!" Scarlett exclaimed..

"Why is Blanche a leader and why is Isabelle a queen?" Annabelle asked with interest and smiled.

"Holy mackerel, don't you see this? It is because Isabelle is a small noblewoman in her grace, beauty, and glory who will grow up and become a queen, while Blanche is a wild, pretty gamine with a will of iron, but not nobility in her character. Blanche has more leadership in the unladylike sense," Scarlett said in her unreserved admiration for her children.

"I agree with your observations."

"Your son René is a handsome young boy. However, it is unconventional handsomeness."

Annabelle gave a heavy half sigh to Scarlett. "René is very similar to his father, in both character and appearance."

"What is René's father François like? We have talked a lot about your love story with him, but you never described him in details, darling."

"Little René is very similar to his father."

"Oh, I see."

"When I meet René, I always remember Francois." Annabelle paused as memories swept through her. Then she resumed talking. "René is like François. Both of them have amber eyes and blue black, straight hair. My little son is a masculine body even at his age," she said. She averted her eyes from Scarlett.

"Annabelle," Scarlett called. She finished a cup of coffee and put it on the table.

Annabelle turned to Scarlett. "What, Scarlett?"

"I think you should officially adopt René. She shouldn't live with people who are not related to him," Scarlett offered and sipped coffee.

Annabelle flinched. She put a half empty cup of coffee on the table. "Scarlett, if I am doing this, it means that there is a reason for this," she replied sternly.

"Annabelle, I…"

Annabelle raised her hand and signaled her to stop talking. "If you think that I am a miserable mother, then you have no right to say this. You don't know all the circumstances why I have been keeping Rene apart from me. I can only say that I have being acting so not only because of the possible scandal around the Robillards. I have other reasons."

Scarlett shuddered. She looked alarmed. "What do you mean, Annabelle?"

"Nothing! Nothing! Stop asking about it!" she answered in a rude voice. It was so rare when Annabelle was raising her voice at Scarlett.

At that time young Charles walked into the room. Annabelle sighed with relief and forced a smile. In contrast to her friends, Scarlett sighed with a load in her chest.

"Good morning to you, Charles," Annabelle greeted Mathieu's son.

"Good morning, Aunty Scarlett and Aunty Annabelle. I am sorry for being late," Charles said and kissed their hands in his usual, purely aristocratic manner.

"Join us, Charles. We were waiting for you impatiently," Scarlett smiled sweetly at the boy.

"I am so happy to hear this! I missed you so much!" the boy exclaimed, his hazel eyes beaming.

During the next month, Scarlett and Annabelle attended various balls and charity events. Scarlett persuaded Annabelle to attend _Nabucco_ by Giuseppe Verdi and took children with them. They also organized a party at Scarlett's mansion and a small event of art lovers at Annabelle's castle in the _Woods of Boulogne_. They also went to London for a week to attend some balls and several birthday parties, including those of _Marguerite Maria Gabrielle de Robillard de Bréveaux, Duchess de Ventadour_, and her son_ Patrick Walter Campbell_, _8th Earl of Marchmont_.

Scarlett also spent much time with Philippe Robillard-Arden, the Duke of Aylesbury, who was spending his second month in Paris. At times, Scarlett thought that Aylesbury had lived in Paris and not in London. However, he could suddenly disappear from Paris and reappear in London, Berlin, Zurich, Geneva, Vienna, Rome, Madrid, Budapest, Constantinople, or somewhere else. Scarlett and Annabelle often found out the Duke's whereabouts from rumors or his son Jasper or Morgan could tell them where Aylesbury had gone.

Scarlett truly enjoyed gambling she had been accustomed to since her marriage with Rhett. On the card-table she had usually incredible adroitness and easily transformed fat purses of her companions to lights ones, especially in her whist drive. But she could never win in the card battle with Rhett Butler. And she could never win in the game with the Duke of Aylesbury. Therefore she needed Philippe's help to become a better gamester.

Now, when Aylesbury had spent much time in Paris, he surrendered and agreed to make for Scarlett several lessons of playing piquet and whist. She knew she played well, but Aylesbury was an extremely skilled gamester and it was worth having his lessons. Philippe offered to begin with a game in whist, and she lost. As they played piquet, the final result was the same - her large lose. Aylesbury was a virtuoso in gambling. Scarlett doubted that even Rhett Butler could have outplayed Philippe Robillard-Arden. As they started the lesson, Philippe simply explained to her the sophisticated methods of thinking during the game and some useful techniques. They also practiced intensively at the card-table.

"Never play too high in piquet. You are a much more skillful whist gamester," the Duke of Aylesbury advised. He was sitting in the armchair in front of Scarlett, one hand lying on the table with cards, the fingers crooked round the stem of his wineglass, his gaze resting on Scarlett's face.

"You are right." A smile on Scarlett's face lingered. "Very well, I will play whist and will win more often, especially after your lessons."

"Never teach others to play, only Annabelle. Our lesson is confidential." There was a note of joke in his voice. "The self-immolation on the altar of duty to teach others not to lose at the card-table is something stupid."

"I trust so."

"I am inviting both you and Annabelle for the ride in my phaeton in _Jardin des Tuileries_ this week. I hope you aren't busy," the Duke of Aylesbury proposed. "You can drive yourself if you want."

"It is a great idea to have such a chaperon like you," she agreed with a smile. "I will drive if you let me. The horses in your stables are ones of the best in England and France."

"I can chaperon you at all the places of entertainment where a young lady wants to go, Scarlett." Aylesbury took her hand in his and raised it to his lips.

"Thank you very much. You are always helping me."

"The pleasure is all mine," the Duke said. "Please call me Philippe. We have known each other for quite a long time to avoid addressing to me as "My Lord," "the Duke," "your Grace," and "Aylesbury."

"But..." she paused.

"This is fine, Scarlett," he emboldened her with a disarming smile.

"Just Philippe?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Thank you, Philippe," she gave him a good-natured smile.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

**In Paris with Annabelle and the Robillards**

During the next several months, thoughts about Rhett Butler had invaded in Scarlett's privacy and were gradually destroying her soul balance, shaky peace, debonair state of mind, and tranquility. She was still thinking of Rhett and languishing for his love. He neither contacted her by mail nor tried to find her. The only news Scarlett received from Rhett was that he successfully negotiated with the bishop of the convent of Savannah the sale of Careen's share of Tara. Scarlett transferred money for the purchase to his account and legally assigned the rights for Scarlett's part of Tara to Suellen O'Hara Benteen, her sister, as she promised earlier. Observing that Rhett didn't fight for her and not wanting to make the first step, Scarlett wrote thankful letter to him in a very formal and ceremonial tone.

From the letters of her aunts Eulalie and Pauline Robillard, Scarlett learnt that Rhett Butler had claimed his son from Belle Watling who now was leading a respectable life on Rhett's money. Scarlett became aware that Rhett hadn't broken his engagement to _Silvia Ferdinanda Albertson Dawson_, which made her upset and disappointed with Rhett. Rhett neither fought for her nor endeavored to fix up their relations, and it betokened that he didn't love her genuinely or at least as much as she wanted him to. Nevertheless, Scarlett's ardor and yearn for Rhett were gathering strength in her conscience with each day, mixed with whimpering heartache and bitter taste of affliction, resentment, and mortification. With sardonic rapture compounded with overdramatic silent outburst of lamentable laugh, Scarlett sneered at herself taciturnly that she was a silly goose to believe in Rhett's love avowals. This man was incorrigible and could love nobody, except for himself, as she reasoned. She was happy that she didn't get pregnant by him after their last night in Charleston and thanked Annabelle wistfully. Why didn't Rhett break his engagement to Silvia if he loved her? Why didn't he fight for her if his love was so strong and unconditional?

Scarlett witnessed and analyzed the political situation in France as she still didn't know what to do with her money and kept it in gold in English banks. Being a shrewd business woman, Scarlett was watching it on a constant basis. In February 1876, the Republicans won a majority in the Chamber of Deputies with a result of the ultra-majority of votes on behalf of them. They were called the Opportunistic Republicans. Although the new legislation was enacted and lots of old-fashioned laws were to be substituted for new up-to-date regulations, the loopholes in legislation still existed and the newly proclaimed Republic was threatened by the risk of another monarchy restoration, so called Bourbon Restoration. The leaders of the Opportunistic Republicans didn't have single opinion regarding colonial policy of the country, although colonial lobby was strong. Moreover, as Scarlett thought, the formidable alarm-emitting signal in the political tension was that the Republicans needed to create and maintain a shaky alliance between rural peasants and urban bourgeoisie, which ultimately would result in limitations of rights of the high society and more burdens for the elite.

In general, Annabelle and Scarlett were fond of their social life in Paris and in London where they often traveled. They also had thoughts to go to Ireland to meet Scarlett's Irish relatives from the O'Hara family. Scarlett had never been in Ireland before, and hence she thought it would be great to eventually visit the Emerald Isle. As Scarlett and Annabelle had always appeared in the ton together, they were often referred to as the Robillard sisters. They both liked being in the beau monde of Europe and truly enjoyed the sense of triumph and general admiration people expressed to them. In public, they flirted on a non-stop basis and broke hearts of many admirers, but neither of them was inwardly happy. It was just a customary lifestyle of a noblewoman, although in substance they had unladylike mindset and lifestyle. They took a hand, randomly, deliberately or involuntary, in many scandals in the high society. They were always surrounded by a cobweb of gossips. In the meantime, they didn't care much for that.

If not involved in various social activities, Scarlett was always with her children, Annabelle, and René, as well as with the other Robillards. She continued to worship them, but no longer dreamed that Rhett would love Blanche and Isabelle and they would become a family. She was done with her dreams and resigned to her lonely fate. Scarlett's life was so alive, but inside she still was dead in terms of terrible emotional emptiness.

In the morning of late March 1876, Scarlett was sitting in her study in her mansion on _Rue des Blancs Manteaux_ in _Le Marais. _She has just returned from "_Triangle d'Or_" where she bought some new elegant, antique-like jewels for the coming spring season of balls, charity and art events, which became so traditional and customary for her. However, she was not happy and soul-balanced. On her lap, Scarlett was holding sleeping Isabelle, while Blanche was in the nursery and Charles was reading in the study room. Annabelle rushed into the room and interrupted her chain of thought.

"Did you hear about the annual art event at the National Gallery in London in late May?" Annabelle asked.

Scarlett nodded. "I have heard about it. I don't mind attending."

"This event is world-wide and infamous for dedicated art lovers. There will be several auctions of rare pictures and sculptures," Annabelle promulgated loudly with excitement in her tuneful voice.

Scarlett stared at Annabelle. "Maybe, we will buy something."

"I want to buy some pictures by _Pierre-Auguste Renoir_ or _Vincent Willem van Gogh_."

Scarlett smiled. "I know you are in love with these artists."

"I idolize Renoir! But probably we will be unable to buy the pictures as they can be only offered in the exhibition."

"Well, I admit I don't understand why you like Impressionism so much. I like more something classic," Scarlett supplemented. "I agree that we must attend."

Annabelle's face brightened. "Definitely."

"In London we will visit Marguerite. We can start buying gowns for this very special event," Scarlett answered thoughtfully.

"This is a magnificent idea! I want a French evening gown made from silver brocade," Annabelle exclaimed enthusiastically.

"I was thinking about a French gown from gold brocade with laces. I am running out of gold dresses."

"Outstanding! By the way, I would love to see a red dress on you one day. You never wear red or I have never seen it," Annabelle questioned.

"I have forborn from wearing red dresses after Rhett forced me to wear a blatant red gown to Ashley Wilkes' birthday. Perhaps, one day I will wear this gown again only for Rhett if we reconcile with each other. I still have it in my wardrobe," Scarlett was biting her bottom lip instinctively.

"Was it so seductive gown that you still have it? Is it somehow an oracular gown?" Annabelle asked with curiosity.

"Yes, it is a divine and blatant gown. It was oracular in that Rhett forced himself on me after Ashley's birthday. I plan to model my gold brocade gown for the ball in the same fashion. Am I fat for blatant gowns with a deeply cut neckline?"

"You should show me this gown. Are you joking? You are very slim! Only blatant gowns fit us! What else is on your mind, Scarlett?"

"I was thinking about the situation in France… I don't know where to invest. Moreover, I want to sell some stakes in French banks and textiles which were of Mathieu's ownership. The society transformation will be quite deep with these damned Opportunistic Republicans," Scarlett put her hand on her daughter's small body. Her face became radiant with a broad smile.

"Remarkably, I have already decided to sell some stakes in several shipbuilding companies and also textiles in _Provence_, which I inherited from my second husband _Count Etienne de Brienne_," Annabelle said, her voice deepening. "These Republicans are too left-centered and support middle class at the expense of wealthy meritocracy."

"Exactly. No investments in France!"

Annabelle smiled. "I would never invest in France when everything is so unclear in the economy and in the political system."

"In addition, colonial policy is unclear and further general disagreements are quite possible. Selling assets in France and cashing out in gold in stable English banks is the only alternative. Besides, I have already increased my stake in the Union Bank of Switzerland."

"Switzerland is a politically stable country. It is worth making investments there."

"Undoubtedly," Scarlett answered.

Annabelle's mouth curved into an endearingly crooked smile. " I am going to ask my lawyer to help me with the investments. I need a consultation about Swiss legislation."

"Then do it."

"Scarlett, what do you think about monarchy restoration in France? I reckon it is unlikely," Annabelle suddenly said with genuine interest.

The question was unexpected for Scarlett. In reality, she cared for politics unless it concerned her fortune. "I think that it is unlikely."

"Unfortunately, I have to agree with this statement."

A wide grin crossed Scarlett's face. "Maybe, we should move to London, shouldn't we?"

"I don't want this," Annabelle answered.

Scarlett gazed at Annabelle. "Rhett was absolutely correct in his estimations of France's political developments. We discussed this topic at Tara, and he voiced his suspicions that the Opportunistic Republicans would win next elections. Damn Rhett Butler! He is so smart in business and politics."

"Again Rhett…" Annabelle said in a muffled voice. "Have you heard from him, darling?"

Scarlett's mood turned closer to black despair. She signed. "No, I haven't." It was evident that there was bitterness in her tone.

"You told me that your Aunts Eulalie and Pauline from Charleston wrote you that he hadn't turn Silvia down. What a fool he is!" She screamed in rage.

"Lower your voice, darling. Isabelle is sleeping. "

"I see, Scarlett."

Scarlett smiled wistfully upon her little daughter in her arms."Look at her, Annabelle! She is an angel who isn't interested in politics… I haven't heard from Rhett. He seems to give up on me, in fact, on us," She sighed heavily. She put little Isabella on the sofa from her lap, went to the window, and stared outside with lugubrious eyes.

"Perhaps, you are right, Scarlett. Take into consideration that he may be waiting for you to contact him first. Rhett may feel insulted and ego-injured," Annabelle explained her thought.

"In this case he is an utter blunderhead and villain if he thinks that I will throw myself at him after his deceits. He has already humiliated me and broke my self-esteem and self-respect two and a half years ago. I am done with it, Annabelle."

"It is a duel of will power and nerves. However, the most important in this game is to stop in time not to lose in the whole game. Probably, letter should be sent to him to sober him a little in his boring Charleston life," Annabelle's face depicted a colorful sly grin.

"I support. Then the convenient moment comes, my dear. What a scandal will happen after the scandal of claiming Belle Watling's son as a Butler," Scarlett scoffed and laughed outright.

"Did he claim the boy? What courage from this blackguard! I am amazed, Scarlett."

The green eyes blazing with flecks of rage, Scarlett spoke. "Courage for Belle and cowardice for a woman Rhett claims to love and worship. Oh, how I hate it!"

"It is better to be a widow of a brave man than the wife of a coward who works only with his legs and runs away from himself," Annabelle said ironically.

Scarlett was infuriated. Her eyes narrowed in rage and her voice shook with anger as she resumed speaking. "A coward, like Rhett, is incapable of feeling love because it is a prerogative of brave men," she taunted.

"Well, he doesn't appear to be brave," Annabelle concluded.

Spluttering with rage, Scarlett called down a string of curses on Rhett's head. "Damn Rhett Butler! Damn him! What a damned coward he is!" She paused and sighed. "Annabelle, I hate and despise him!" However, she didn't feel any satisfaction of releasing some of the helpless rage which surged through her slender body. So she stopped cursing.

"One hundred to one, that he is waiting for you to chase him because his self-esteem is so scotched," Annabelle chuckled. "You love him more than you admit to yourself."

"He is indeed running away from himself. What a coward he is." Scarlett approached the sofa where her daughter was sleeping and took her on her lap.

"You both are too much alike, both excessively stubborn creatures who test and punish each other. You should know where to stop," Annabelle commented.

"It is a sophisticated game, but I will never be the first one to give in, darling. Not after how he treated me," Scarlett threw over her shoulder.

"Scarlett, you may risk your personal happiness at the expense of your pride and wounded ego. Don't forget about it and know when to stop. After all, you have two children, darling. What about Ireland? Are we coming there before the event in London?" Annabelle finished her tirade.

"I would love to if you accompany me, Annabelle. I want to take children with me to Ireland. Anyway, we will be travelling to Ireland through London. In this case, let's leave in a week or so from Paris, spend a month in Ireland and then head to London."

"I agree. This perfectly corresponds to my schedule."

"Great!"

"Scarlett, you told me about Frédéric… I mean... your searches for François…." Annabelle stumbled with words.

"You are right that I sent a letter to Mathieu's cousin Frédéric. I hope we will have some more information about him."

"Did he find out something?" Annabelle stumbled with words in a quaking voice.

"Annabelle, Frédéric is still working on it. I will update you as soon as I can. Let's take children and go the _Place de la Concorde_ in our favorite restaurant. I love the picturesque panoramic view from there."

"I adore this restaurant. Let's go," Annabelle stated. "By the way, I started the paperwork to adopt my own son from François. By the end of June it will be finished."

"Annabelle, you are a good girl. I love you for your courage. It is a wise decision to make your son official Robillard, darling," Scarlett praised her friend. "I don't think that another scandal will spoil our reputation too much."

"No, it won't. I am just doing an adoption of the boy. I was a coward not to do it earlier. A miserable coward…" Annabelle paused and continued with a smile, "Let's go, I am dying from hunger. I am too young to die."

"By the way, I met the Duke of Aylesbury yesterday at the Duke of Clarence's mansion. We played at the card-table and chatted."

"I didn't know that he is in Paris now."

"He is staying at Jean-Baptiste's house because his mansion on _Rue des Tournelles _is being renovated and refurbished. The Duke of Aylesbury is here with his sons Jasper and Morgan," Scarlett responded.

"Good news," Annabelle returned curtly. "I was thinking about the dinner at Jean-Baptiste's today."

"I don't mind. Now let's go."

Scarlett and Annabelle spent the evening at _Count __Jean-Baptiste de Bréveaux's_ mansion on _Rue_ _Saint-Antoine _in _Le Marais. _The interior of the house was as classical as the building outside: everything was comfortable, elegant, and luxurious, without excessive ornamentation and tawdry decorations. The exterior and the interior of the house were made in the strict Neoclassical style, as though everything had had its practical function as much as it had been aesthetically pleasing. Jean-Baptiste's mansion was very different Mathieu's mansion where Scarlett had been living after his death. Like it was an essential component in Greek and Roman architecture, symmetry and balance were the most predominant characteristics of the facade of the building. On the exterior, two columns right before the entry into the house were an effective method to ensure proportion in the building.

_Jean-Baptiste Edmond Alexandre de Robillard,_ _13th Count de Bréveaux_, and his wife _Adelaide Melanie Estelle de Saint-Germain, Countess de Bréveaux_, were happy to see both Scarlett and Annabelle. Once the ladies entered the parlor, they were met by a warm hug from Jean-Baptiste and Adelaide. There they were also greeted by _Josephine Thérèse Gertrude de Robillard de Bréveaux, Viscountess de Barras, _who was one of Jean-Baptiste's daughters. In a couple of minutes, _Philippe Justin Robillard-Arden, 8th Duke of Aylesbury_, walked into the parlor and also greeted Scarlett and Annabelle.

The old _Count __Jean-Baptiste de Bréveaux_ was the eldest man among the French Robillards. He was a tall man, with very dark brown eyes and with grizzled hair that had been deep brunette in his youth and in his adulthood. His wife Adelaide was a small-framed woman, with dark blue eyes and also with grizzled hair that had been jet-black before. What attracted attention to Adelaide in the first place were her very high forehead and her well-formed, high cheekbones. Their daughter Josephine was Adelaide's young incarnate as she had the same dark blue eyes, jet-black hair, high cheekbones and high forehead. Jean-Baptiste, Adelaide, and Josephine were an epitome of the best traits of French aristocracy: they were gentle and kind, very well-educated and intelligent, caring and attentive, gallant and highbred. Neither Adelaide in her early youth and in her adulthood, not Josephine possessed breathtaking beauty, but they had undeniable charm and grace, which automatically attracted others to them. It was evident that in their youth Jean-Baptiste was more attractive as a man than his wife Adelaide was as a woman. However, the aforementioned fact didn't harm their happiness and they had a life-long, peaceful marriage and had been in love with each other since their wedding.

All the guests went to the grand hall, which was a pattern of a moderate luxury, which included a pretty Aubusson carpet with Rococo designs, window curtains of dark-blue brocade, the rosewood carved mahogany furniture covered with light blue and dark blue, small-framed mirror on the wall facing the staircase to the second and third floors, several flower-stands – everything presented a very pleasing and homelike aspect. Scarlett has always liked about this house that even the smallest details, all elegant and appropriate, gave the mind and an eye a sense of repose and of poetry which a clever and loving woman always infuses into her home. In this case it was Jean-Baptiste's wife Adelaide who loved her husband and was a pattern of an ideal wife.

In the grand hall they were greeted by _Jasper Alastair Robillard-Arden_, _the heir apparent to 8th Duke of Aylesbury_ and _10th Marquess of Wycombe,_ a very attractive and handsome man with jet-black hair and dark brown, nearly black eyes, and _Morgan George Robillard-Arden_, also a very handsome man with jade green-eyed and blue black hair. Both of them were very similar to their father - the Duke of Aylesbury - in their appearance. However, Jasper a striking resemblance to his father and was said to be his young copy in appearance. Jasper was the eldest son of the Duke of Aylesbury, while Morgan was his second son. In 1876, Jasper turned thirty years old, while Morgan was a twenty-eight-year-old man.

Jean-Baptiste's niece Henriette, the daughter of his younger brother _Gaspard Felix Jacques de Robillard de Bréveaux, 17th baron du Boismancellet_, was also here. Her full name was _Henriette Juliette Celestine de Robillard de Bréveaux, Duchess de Roannais_. Among the guests, there also were d'Aubusson brothers - _Geoffroy Louis Victor d'Aubusson de La Feuillade, __the heir apparent to 9th Duke de Roannais and_ _11th Marquis de Boisy, _and _Armand Louis Charles d'Aubusson de La Feuillade_, _14th Count de Maulevrier. _Thirty-three-year-old twins - Geoffroy, hazel-eyed with jet-black hair, and Armand, light pale green-eyed with light ash blonde hair, were Henriette's oldest children.

Geoffroy and Armand greeted Scarlett and Annabelle with warm kisses and hugs, which was a little more than acceptable, but still appropriate given the close friendship between them. Both of them had handsome appearance, especially Armand, _ash blonde Adonis _called so because of his very unusual light ash blonde hair that looked so natural and so attractive amid his pure alabaster and Armand were not married and were known to be womanizers, which made them a potential target for many young debutantes and other unmarried ladies. Both of them had been the courtiers at _Napoleon III's_ court before the defeat of _the Second French Empire_ in 1871. They also were very close friends with Jasper Robillard-Arden and Morgan Robillard-Arden.

Then they all went to the dining room and took their places at the dinner table, Jean-Baptiste and Adelaide at the head of the table, in front of each other. Scarlett didn't notice how it happened, but she was sitting between Philippe and his son Jasper. Annabelle took her place right in front of Scarlett on the opposite side of the dinner table, Josephine on the left from her and Morgan on the right. Geoffroy and Armand took their places near each other on the right from Jasper. Henriette was sitting near Jean-Baptiste, close to her beloved twins Armand and Geoffroy. As there was one more empty but served place at the table, it was evident that somebody else was expected to come later.

The dinner began from traditional for Jean-Baptiste wine tasting as he was known to have one of the best wine cellars in Paris, if not the whole France. This time it was about sweet Jurancon, which was a white wine with exotic fruits and honey aromas, one of the best wines from the South West of France. The conversation was about wines and Jean-Baptiste's vineyards in an area near Pau, and Scarlett wasn't much interested, but enjoyed family atmosphere close to the Robillards and the Robillard-Ardens. She liked food - trout and salmon, as well as white meat and _Fourme d'Ambert_ cheese, which she loved upon the first try several years ago.

Later the conversation went toward the current political and economical situation in France and Great Britain. Jean-Baptiste supported the Monarchists and didn't hide his hatred for the Opportunistic Republicans whom he considered guilty for the death of his only son _Adrien Jacques Alexandre__ de Robillard de Bréveaux, 15th Viscount de Saint-Ouen,_ in 1871. The Duke of Aylesbury said that he had just returned from Egypt and another half an hour the conversation was all about his trip there when especially active participants of the conversation were Jasper, Morgan, Scarlett, Annabelle, Geoffroy, while Armand was nearly sleeping.

Later they were joined by _Odette Marie Jacqueline de Rabutin-Chantal, Marquise de Sevigne_, who was introduced as Jasper's friend. In fact, everybody in the room knew that Madame Odette was his Jasper's mistress. At that time Jean-Baptiste addressed especially to Scarlett.

"Scarlett, my darling, every time I look at you, I am very happy because I see bright flame and vivacity in all your posture and demeanor," Jean-Baptiste pronounced.

"Grandfather, don't exaggerate! You are happy even if you don't look at me," Scarlett looked at him and smiled warmly. She called Jean-Baptiste grandfather because he asked her to address to him in this manner. The old man sincerely loved her. "You have a great wife and two nice daughters. And all the Robillards are a real large family, loyal to each other and loving each other."

"I think that it was a wise decision for you to leave the United States and relocate to France, Scarlett," the Duke of Aylesbury added. "Here you are with your family, the Robillards. We are a very large family. It has always been popular to have many children for the Robillards."

"Honestly, I have always wanted to have a large family and I had it. Well, I mean my late husband, my own children, my two other sisters, my father Gerald, and my mother Ellen. Now, despite the fact that my parents and my husbands are dead, I feel happy because you became my family," Scarlett responded passionately, her face flushing.

"We are happy to be your family, darling," Adelaide supplied.

"Thank you, Adelaide," Scarlett said seriously.

"Of course, darling," Geoffroy interjected. He glanced at Scarlett and smiled widely, his white teeth beaming. "It is so good to have you here with us in France."

"I will always remember our dance lessons," Armand laughed out merrily. His light green eyes were dancing with joyful flames.

"Why is it so, Armand?" Morgan asked.

Armand gave to Morgan a half shrug. "Didn't Scarlett tell you?"

Morgan's jade green eyes expressed amusement. "No."

"What a bad omission, Scarlett!" Geoffroy grinned. His cheerful look and adoring smile supplied Scarlett with the determination for acute answer.

"It is not the omission, but rather preservation of our guests' nerves," Scarlett parried.

"What do you mean?" Aylesbury asked.

"I also want to hear explanations," Jasper agreed.

"Pray enlighten us, my dear girl," Henriette smirked. "I know that my sons are perfect dancers, especially my ash blonde Armand. Nevertheless, I need confirmation from a bewitching lady."

"Not so bewitching," Scarlett shook her head.

Henriette stared at Scarlett with her hazel eyes. "_Ma petite_! Bewitching!" she spat. "Don't argue."

"Well then, I just mean that Armand, Geoffroy, and Annabelle hired a French dancing tutor for me several years ago. This old man taught me how to perform the French court dances, like _Minuet_, _Gavotte_, and _Rigaudon_," Scarlett explained. "In addition, we practiced together, and it was rather funny because it took me much time to become a good dancer."

"This is great!" Jean-Baptiste smiled. "I would love to see it."

"Indeed great," Jasper said. Morgan smiled and nodded in agreement.

"Well, probably I was a little inaccurate in my words." Armand began, an embarrassed flush manifesting his cheeks. "I will never remember this experience not because Scarlett danced badly, but because how happy we were during these classes."

"Scarlett became a very good dancer," Geoffroy announced, sparkles of laugh flashing in his hazel eyes.

"I would say I can perform these dances quite well," Scarlett amended. A sheepish look crept across her face. "My abilities will never compare with those of Annabelle, Geoffroy, and Armand."

"Scarlett, don't be shy! You will never have any trouble in the ballroom," Annabelle grinned.

"And don't try to joke at us, Scarlett," Armand smiled. "It was my pleasure to help you with the dancing in order to be brilliantly prepared for French ballrooms."

"My pleasure too, Adonis," Scarlett gave a wink to him. Armand laughed back.

"I daresay it is quite normal when relatives help each other and have happy time together," Henriette commented.

"Absolutely," Scarlett nodded.

"Of course," Aylesbury said.

"I agree," Adelaide's voice splashed out.

"The Robillards are always so helpful relative to each other. They treat each other delicately, gently and carefully. I like this kind of attitude in the family," Scarlett stated. Suddenly, a question that tormented her for a long time slithered from her tongue. She has already asked it, but the received explanations still didn't seem plausible to her. She inquired: "Why didn't my grandfather Pierre keep in touch with all of you? I don't understand this."

"Scarlett," Jean-Baptiste began. Smile vanished from his face, "you know that my cousins Pierre and Christophe had left for the United States many years ago. Pierre took his wife Solange and soon had had his own life and family. The same was with Christophe. Pierre made it clear that he hadn't wanted us to interfere." His gaze was fixed at Scarlett. He wasn't looking at Aylesbury. Even if he threw an eye on him, he wouldn't notice how Philippe's left hand clenched under the table. "Pierre was very determined and if he decided something, nobody could protest."

"Pierre Robillard was an unusual, contradictory man," Aylesbury elucidated with aloofness. Smile was gone from his handsome face.

"Pierre Robillard was an unpredictable man," Henriette purred. "I am sorry... I would say he was a crafty man. It was so even when we were children. I remember him very well. May he rest in peace."

"Maybe, you are right about my grandfather. He was a complex man," Scarlett threw a glance at Philippe and Henriette. "It is very pity that I hadn't known the Robillards from Europe earlier. But I have heard that Christophe was different from Pierre," Scarlett supposed, her eyes twinkled lightly. "Christophe had a son Philippe who died in New Orleans many years ago. And nobody – neither Pierre nor Philippe and Christophe - was interested in their French relatives."

"In fact, you are right, Scarlett. However, Christophe kept in touch with us, but he died quite young and not a long time after their relocation to the Confederacy. Pierre was leading isolated life from us in accordance with his wishes and preferences. This is the whole story." Jean-Baptiste's face clouded, and he glanced down at his plate. Instead of lifting his head up, he put a piece of white meat in his mouth, continuing to look at the table. Then he gulped half of the glass with wine.

"God's nightgown!" Scarlett exclaimed. She felt that this topic wasn't pleasant for the Robillards. Now a sense of guilt seized her heart. She felt like a gambler who has lost all his money, fumbling inside his purse for the one gold coin that might yet keep him in the game. "Grandfather Pierre lost so much because you are great people!"

"Undoubtedly, Pierre Robillard made a wrong decision to entirely isolate his family from the French Robillards," Armand shrugged uncertainly. "I also don't understand his motives."

"My mother Henriette told me that Christophe had contacted her several times after he and Pierre had left for the States," Geoffroy enlightened. "However, Christophe and his wife Genevieve died young. I think that after their death Pierre remained in complete isolation from his European relatives."

"And Christophe's young son Philippe had died when he had been very young," Annabelle said sorrowfully. "This is a murderous tragedy when nobody is left after you!"

Scarlett's green eyes turned into darker green. "Yes, it is so," Scarlett admitted, her voice deep vibrated with pain.

"It was a great tragedy for all of us," Aylesbury said and paused momentarily. He pulled his gaze from Jean-Baptiste and glanced around. He continued in a steady, expressionless voice, his eyes blank: "However, I propose not to concentrate on the tragic things from the distant past."

"I support," Geoffroy nodded.

"And so do I," Adelaide looked at Aylesbury.

"Scarlett, darling, you are the member of our family. You are my granddaughter," Jean-Baptiste said with assured happiness in his tone. "Although I have my own grandchildren, Annabelle and you are like my own two granddaughters. You are my willful hoydens, my rambunctious girls."

"Yes, we are," Annabelle nodded.

"Each of you is _femme fatale_," Josephine joked in a tone that made everybody smile. She looked at Jean-Baptiste, her father, and added: "You own grandchildren have never been as rambunctious and fearless as these two ladies are."

"Yes, indeed," Aylesbury agreed, his black eyes fixed on Scarlett.

"And they are very beautiful," Jasper smiled widely as he sipped some wine.

"It is truth, son," Philippe waved in confirmation. "I still remember that evening at Almack's in London, Scarlett's official debut in the ton of England. Everybody was stunned with the lady in white dress on my left arm."

"I assume you, Scarlett, had great success at that evening," Henriette said confidently. She sipped wine. "Besides, Aylesbury as a chaperon gives a great advantage."

"It was a complete triumph and capitulation of the society in front of Scarlett," Jasper declared, scanning Annabelle and Scarlett's faces in turns.

"There had been the rumors about the new beautiful lady in London even in Paris before you relocated here," Annabelle smiled.

"The rumor mill is always working well and quickly," Armand said.

"I am happy that it was Philippe who introduced you to the ton in London," Jean-Baptiste smiled, and his eyes locked with Philippe's black eyes, expressing a sort of understanding.

"I not only introduced Scarlett, but also performed my duties to my own satisfaction by leading Scarlett for waltz and going further with one of the country dances." Philippe sipped some wine and put a piece of cheese in his mouth. "This wine is great, Jean-Baptiste."

"I also appreciate the choice of wine," Morgan agreed.

"I like sweet, pineapple taste of the wine," Scarlett replied. "I remember that evening at Almack's. Without you, Aylesbury, I would never be admitted there in two weeks after arrival to London."

"I hope now Scarlett is listed in each respectable club in London," Jean-Baptiste said.

"Yes, it is so," the green-eyed lady responded and looked at Aylesbury, a glimmer of gratitude in her glance she cast at him. He smiled unfeignedly at her.

Annabelle's grey eyes locked with Scarlett's green orbs. "We are received everywhere in Europe," Annabelle said. "Although at times we are acting against the society rules."

"But it is much more interesting to enjoy life than to get bored with it," Adelaide commented.

"Not only Scarlett and Annabelle are living an extraordinary life," Annabelle laughed out, looking at Philippe and Jasper.

"Precisely," Philippe and Jasper said in unison.

"I have heard a lot of stories about Scarlett and Annabelle, so-called the Robillards sisters. I daresay these stories are quite extravagant," Morgan's sonorous voice resonated.

"These are the stories about the unusual attire at the ball, assembly, or hunt," Jasper said. "It is wonderful to be so different from others. I am doing the same."

"Or stories about Scarlett's victories at the card-table," Aylesbury supplemented, slightly bowing with much grace to Scarlett. "You know how well Scarlett plays whist and piquet."

"But not as good as you do, Aylesbury," Annabelle parried in a sweet voice. "As for the stories about us, I don't care for them."

"There are also numerous rumors about… erm… private life, especially his Grace the Duke of Naples and his Grace Duke de Sabran," Odette said.

"Odette!" Jasper barked. His black eyes glazed at her stonily. "For God's sake stop this spectacle." He raised his voice, his sharp eyes piercing her. "Rumors are too ephemeral to spread them and believe in them. Please take this into account."

"They are like wildfire - you are burned before you learn about," Geoffroy sneered.

"It is better to change the topic, Madame de Sevigne," Morgan retorted.

"Madame de Sevigne, I would rather follow this advice," Armand mused in a laughter-tinged voice. "Otherwise you may have a clash with Jasper."

"You don't need to quarrel with Jasper," Annabelle advised waspishly.

"But… but…" Odette wanted to say something, but was interrupted.

"Shall we talk about not only Scarlett and Annabelle's, but also your private life, Madame de Sevigne? There are a lot of rumors around your name." Philippe's voice went up to high baritone. His black eyes were blank. There was the faint, incredulous smile he used to dampen Odette's ardor. "Rumors generally grow deformed as they travel. For example, take my case. People think that I live God knows where in Paris, although I have my own house here, and God knows with whom when I am in France, but the truth is that I am almost always with my old friends or with the Robillards."

"Thank you, Aylesbury," Scarlett whispered as she leaned her head down to the right to him and gave him a smile.

"Philippe," Aylesbury amended her. His voice was a half whisper right into Scarlett's ear. "I trust the form of addressing was settled between us. Please, no more "your Grace," "my Lord," "the Duke," and "Aylesbury," even in public."

"Then thank you, Philippe," Scarlett repeated with a smile. She raised her head proudly and looked right in Odette's blue eyes with challenge. She said: "Rumors are like a flame blown by the wind."

At the same time, Odette's distress didn't ease. She stiffened, her face was flushing. "I am sorry…" Odette murmured in a shaking voice. "I am very sorry…"

"I trust you are sorry," Jasper said tartly.

"Jasper, Morgan, Armand, Geoffroy, Annabelle, Scarlett," Henriette stated imperatively, looking at Odette whose cheeks went crimson. "Please, don't embarrass Madame Odette more. Enough was said."

"I am sorry," Odette declared loudly as she composed herself.

"_Chérie_, it is fine," Jasper appeased Odette, ambiguously smiling at her. His black eyes warmed. "Forget."

"Thank you, Jasper," Odette mumbled.

"There is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about. Don't worry, Madame de Sevigne," Jean-Baptiste said calmly. "I am proud of my granddaughters to be so unusual that people always notice them."

"Exactly, father," Josephine pointed out, looking at Jean-Baptiste. She sipped wine.

"Those who feed on rumors are small, suspicious souls," Annabelle added with a smile. "But we aren't such people."

"Of course, we aren't," Adelaide supported and maneuvered to another topic. "I am so happy that we all are here today. Philippe, where have you been in Egypt? But this time please without historical details!"

"Actually, my trip wasn't only of touristic nature. Although I visited Cairo and Alexandria, I tried to find some new business opportunities in the Nile Valley and Suez. The opening of the Suez Canal in 1869 complicated the British position in Egypt, bringing a lot of new opportunities for merchants and businessmen," the Duke of Aylesbury answered. He didn't mention that his trip to Egypt had a special purpose and was rather dangerous, like many of his trips and missions. He didn't need to explain this to Jean-Baptiste and his wife because they knew his life story. "Maybe, I will have to go there soon again."

The rest of the evening was spent in the small reception room. Philippe and Jean-Baptiste disappeared for almost an hour after the dinner, retreating to the study room. Adelaide, Scarlett, Annabelle, Josephine, Armand, Geoffroy, and Morgan were deeply involved in the conversation about the upcoming balls and parties in the season both in London and Paris, as well as about the planned trips. Morgan and Odette were playing piquet, and Odette was losing. Scarlett reasoned that Jasper had kept her in isolation from others after the unpleasant clash at the dinner table. Henriette left Jean-Baptiste's house early.

Later Philippe and Jean-Baptiste returned to the reception room. Philippe continued teaching Scarlett various methodologies of playing both whist and piquet, and in the end she was assured that very few people could be excel Aylesbury in gambling. Scarlett caught sight of Philippe's son Jasper and Annabelle also sitting down at a quiet game of piquet. Scarlett she laughed as she knew that Annabelle would lose. Twins Geoffroy and Armand were chess with each other just for entertainment. At that time, Jean-Baptiste and Morgan began to discuss Morgan's recent adventures in Toulouse and Nice, which he liked the most in France, while Josephine, Adelaide, and Odette focused on reading one of the books from the library.

It was such a good family evening for Scarlett. She had always had such peaceful family evenings with the Robillards, especially those at Jean-Baptiste de Robillard's house. They were talking about various things: the Kings and the Queens of France, the history of the Robillards in France, about life in France and in Europe in general. Moreover, the Robillards were interested in each other's lives and were always ready to help each other and listen to each other. All those things were much appreciated by Scarlett. However, it was still difficult for her to realize how such a large family of her French relatives could be such a cohesive group of people who shared so many ideas and principles in common, but who were so different from each other in many aspects at the same time. Scarlett wondered whether her father Gerald's relatives in Ireland, whom she was going to visit, also lived as a cohesive, caring group. She suspected that she would see something similar to the life of her French relatives, but at the same time different: the Irish should be simpler and less aristocratic in their life style, she mused. She smiled to herself as she knew that soon she would know this as she would get to Ireland.


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

**In the United States: Belle in New Orleans and a routine, monotonous life in Charleston**

At the same time, in Charleston nothing changed. Life in the South was routine and monotonous. Silvia Ferdinanda tried to please Rhett as much as she could. She was lucky that Rosemary took the spear in her chest and said nothing about her union with Silvia in their battle with Scarlett. Silvia felt obliged to Rosemary, and they became very close friends. Rhett and Silvia continued to meet at tea parties and charity events, which Rhett had to attend in his usual life of Charleston gentleman. Silvia also started to bring Rhett to art exhibitions, showing him her intelligence by underscoring her new profound activity. This was the only interesting activity of hers in Rhett's opinion.

They talked about the wedding, or, more accurately saying, Silvia and Rosemary were talking. Rhett was always indifferent and left final word or decision relative various issues to Silvia. In public, Silvia always told Rhett how she loved him and wanted to be happy with him. In sober fact, Silvia didn't care much about Rhett's feelings to her and accepted his behavior for granted. She didn't know whether she loved him, but her obsession to become his wife was undeniable and was growing each day. Silvia was convinced that she was doing correct in her attempts to save Rhett from terrible Scarlett, his former wife, and in making a proper Charleston gentleman from Rhett.

While Silvia and Rosemary were planning the future, it was a harrowing time for heartbroken Rhett. His life was like in the fog in Scarlett's old nightmare. At times he was on the verge of his sanity and envied patients of lunatic houses because they didn't understand reality at least. For Rhett it was a dull life in a dim light and in the world of shadows, but he didn't care. Scarlett didn't want him and he didn't want anything. He was drifting with the stream, without any orientation and attempts to alter the direction of his movement. He was very tired physically and dead emotionally. In public, it was always artificially alive, sardonically polite, and mocking Rhett with his customary manner of talking in calm indifference and aloofness to the outside world. Rhett estranged himself from everybody completely and stopped frank conversations even with his mother. He ignored Rosemary intentionally, although she tried to talk to him and apologized for what she had done, without actual repentance, however. Rhett seemed to leave it unnoticed and continued withdrawing policy.

Rhett's carousal of proper Charlestonian life was interconnected with gambling and drinking. In the day, Rhett continued a proper life to please his family, but in the night he always gambled in the local saloon and a whorehouse. However, he stopped bedding whores, which was quite opposite to how he acted before when he wanted to make a clean sweep on Scarlett in his heart and whole life. He frequently visited Belle, but didn't have intimacy with her or her girls. He couldn't sleep with other women after his night with Scarlett at the Charleston Grand Hotel after which she ran away from him in the morning. He knew that he wouldn't have emotional release and decided even not to try. Rhett was drinking a lot, with some breaks when he was sober and especially withdrawn and tongue-tied. His mother and sister got used to find him immensely intoxicated in the study or in the living room when drunken Rhett was sleeping there on a sofa after his night piss-ups. Often Rhett was inebriated by alcohol even in a daytime. Eleanor and Rosemary were shocked but could do nothing.

Time was passing quickly, but for Rhett nothing changed. There was no news from Scarlett, even after he sent to her lawyer Henry Hamilton the agreement with the convent in Savannah regarding the sale of Carreen O'Hara's ownership share of Tara. When Scarlett was sick and got better, Rhett went to Savannah for the negotiations with the bishop in order to buy Carreen's share of Tara as a gift for Scarlett. He succeeded in his negotiations.

Rhett picked up an envelope from the stack of correspondence at his table in the study room and opened it. It was a letter from Scarlett. So he finally received news from her!

_Dear Mr Butler,_

_I would like to take this opportunity and thank you for buying back Carreen's share of Tara from the convent in Savannah on behalf of me. You cannot imagine how grateful and obliged to you for your devout act I feel._

_I asked my lawyer Henry Hamilton to transfer the amount of money equivalent to that you paid to make the deal with the bishop to your bank account at Atlanta National Bank._

_If you need any help or advice and think that I can manage well for you on a particular occasion, please, don't hesitate to contact me. I can always offer you my help through my extensive European contacts, both business and personal._

_All over again, thank you very much for your help._

_Kind regards,_

_Scarlett de Robillard de Bréveaux, Marquise de Bréval_

However, it was a short thankful letter. In addition, she sent through his lawyer, not directly to him. He learnt that she transferred money to his account for the deal. The letter was written as though they were only business associates or distant relatives. With sudden, heartbreaking clarity, all the pieces of the bizarre puzzle about his relations with Scarlett fell into place, presenting the whole gruesome picture, complete in every detail. The truth was that Scarlett didn't want him.

"Scarlett wants to forget me and our marriage," Rhett mused. "What can I do in this case? If she doesn't want to be with me, I cannot force her come back to the South."

At that moment, Rhett decided that Scarlett had intended to forget him and no longer wanted and loved him. Before this, he hoped that she would do something to search for him as she usually did, but received no world or letter from her, except for the thankful letter. Rhett realized that it was over, although Belle pushed him to go and get her. However, Rhett was loyal to his passive behavioral policy and was waiting for inconceivable reasons. In the aftermath of agonizing silence, he concluded that Scarlett O'Hara was out of his life seemingly forever. He decided to settle down and marry Silvia. Before the marriage Rhett planned to escape from boring Charleston one more time and go to Europe on business in the beginning of April 1876. In total, around six months passed after Scarlett had left Rhett. Silvia set the wedding date in the end of June while Rhett was just passive and said nothing, perhaps, still waiting for a sign from Scarlett.

Rhett visited Belle Watling in New Orleans before his departure to Europe. At present, Belle Watling was leading a life of a respectable woman. She no longer was the official mistress of the famous whorehouse in Atlanta downtown, and Flore, one of Belle's girls, was running the business. The ultimate beneficiaries of business were still Rhett and Belle. From time to time, Belle visited her former establishment and checked how the deals were going.

Belle was spending the majority of time with her son in New Orleans and lived there in the small house Rhett bought for her and their son. She was happy that Rhett had claimed their son and felt obliged to Scarlett for this. Their son Robert was flourishing and loved their new life with his mother and not at the boarding school as it was before. Robert also liked the fact that now he had a farther, his favorite Uncle Rhett whom he had known since his early childhood. Belle thanked the fate for what she had at that happiest moment in her life. She hoped that Rhett wouldn't marry Silvia and find Scarlett in Europe when he told her about his trip to London and Paris. Before his trip, in early April of 1876, Rhett visited Belle and his son in New Orleans.

Belle smiled at Rhett. "Rhett, I am delighted to see you today. How are you doing?" she asked softly and kissed Rhett in his cheek. She no longer wanted to be his mistress, and their meetings were more similar to amicable meetings. There was no intimacy between them.

Belle smiled at him. "Hello, Belle. I am fine."

"I am grand to hear this," she answered.

"I am on my way to Europe. I am leaving in several days for London and Paris. Where is Robert?" Rhett said and kissed Belle on her cheek.

"Robert is at the school now. He will be at home in two hours," Belle announced.

"It is very good because I wanted to meet him."

Belles smiled at Rhett. "Robert also wanted to see you, Rhett. He is so happy now."

"I know, Belle. I did the right thing when I claimed him," Rhett said. "I was a bad father."

"Rhett, you never abandoned Robert. You have always paid all the expenses for him. You have always taken care for him. You often visited him in New Orleans."

"Belle, he was just a ward, not a son. Perhaps, it was my mistake." Rhett laughed bitterly at himself. "You see that I am a coward in personal life."

Belle glared at Rhett with sympathy. "Rhett, I think that in our circumstances it was better for Robert not to know that you are his father up to certain time. Otherwise, he would have suffered that you could have never married me, his mother." Indeed, there was some true, rational reasoning in Belle's words.

"Probably, Belle," Rhett admitted uncertainly. "Anyway, what is done is done. We cannot change our past."

As Rhett made up a decision to claim Robert at his own son and in the end did that, Belle was overmastered with happiness. Robert was also glad to know that his Uncle Rhett, who had been his dear, caring legal guardian for so many years, was his blood father. The young boy no longer was an orphan and had his own parents. In addition, Belle stopped running the whorehouse – she was no living on the money Rhett transferred to her account in the form of monthly allowance. Belle also received some money from the whorehouse because both she and Rhett still were the final beneficiaries of the establishment in Atlanta. It was supposed that Belle would live with Robert in New Orleans and would visit Atlanta from time to time.

Belle stared at him. "Rhett, I have heard those dreadful rumors associated with our son. Those rumors are disgusting!" She paused. Then she tossed her head as though she tried to remove that feeling of disgust from herself.

"Don't pay attention to them, Belle," he said. "My mother Eleanor is happy to have another grandchild, even given rather dark circumstances of Robert's birth. My mother will do everything to persuade the whole Charleston that I claimed my son because I stepped on the way of a righteous life."

Belle winked at Rhett. "Righteous Abel," she mocked.

Rhett smiled. "A kind of that."

It was true that in Charleston the public scandal associated with Rhett Butler's new son was tremendous. It was a sensation for gossipmongers of monotonous Charleston. People were jawboning everywhere, and Eleanor, Silvia, and Rosemary were extremely displeased with social disgrace and gossips. Eleanor tried to turn blind eyes to this scandal because she was happy to have another grandchild. Rosemary started to hate Scarlett even more as she realized that it was Scarlett's fault that Rhett claimed the boy. Silvia was also irritated and hated Robert, but she tried not to show any emotions and continued her cruel game – she desperately wanted to become Rhett's wife and hence was patient, showing her overdone sweetness to the outside world. Conversely, Rhett was indifferent to rumors and extremely withdrawn.

"You will be in Paris, won't you? Will you find Scarlett? As I know, she lives in Paris as I remember," Belle asked with curiosity.

"Belle, she doesn't want me and treats me like rubbish. I won't beg for her on the knees to come back to me and throw myself at her," Rhett said dryly.

"Scarlett treats you like you treated her. You deserved this, and you know it. Be frank with yourself, Rhett - you love her. Honey, be a big boy… Go and get her before you regret," Belle raised her voice to make Rhett listen to her.

"Belle, darling, I know what to do. Do you like your new home? I bought it for you and decorated it subject to your tastes, which I know pretty well," Rhett smiled and lit his cigarette.

"Thank you, Rhett. I like this place and so does Robert. I am so happy that you claimed him. Thank you, Rhett. I am obliged to you," she crossed her arms and sat in the armchair, looking at Rhett.

"You aren't obliged to me. Scarlett made a right point that he is an innocent child. Besides, he is my only living child," Rhett continued with a bittersweet taste of grief in his voice. "I am not planning to have children with Silvia."

"Do you still plan to marry her? This is absurd! You will never become a proper Charleston gentleman. I know you very well, Rhett, down to your bones. And you love Scarlett," Belle insisted again.

"Scarlett left me six months ago in Charleston and treated me like a loose man. Belle, she humiliated me. Scarlett has been keeping silent since her escape. She doesn't love me. If she loved me, she wouldn't escape from me and dummy up as she is doing now," a lugubrious grin appeared on Rhett's face.

"Rhett, she did this because she wanted to teach you a lesson and put you in her skin. That's it, Rhett. It doesn't mean that she doesn't love you. I am sure that she does," explanations slithered from Belle's lips.

"Belle, I am not a fool. I know Scarlett. She is a cruel heartless creature, and her escape proved this one more time. Belle, throughout my whole life I did so many dishonorable and vulgar things that this time I should do something to help my family and Robert. I blackened and assaulted the reputation of the Butler family, which cannot be bought for my ill-gotten money. My mother is very old and sick, and I don't want to cause her pain."

"I understand your position, but you never cared for the reputation and Scarlett loves you. Don't be foolish, Rhett," Belle interrupted Rhett.

"Belle, there is a flagrant scandal around our family, a scandal associated with Robert. All my past sins have been remembered. We are still accepted in the society only because of my mother's pure well-founded reputation in Charleston. Silvia, Rosemary, and my mother face accusations thrown at my name each time they are at one of these damned charity or tea events," Rhett said sadly.

"So, you want to say that so far you are accepted because of the fact that your family still has some respectability thanks to the image of your mother. How does she explain in public that you claimed Robert?" Belle looked at Rhett interrogatively.

"My mother says that I have matured and changed."

"What else is your mother saying?" Belle's mouth was quirked into something that looked suspiciously like a grin.

"She is happy that I am trying to start my life from the new clean page, doing honorable and graceful things. She has been so stubborn and confident in her assertions that even many of the oldest matrons started to share her point of view," Rhett replied truthfully.

"A former black sheep in the society is trying to reform,"

"Belle!" Rhett thundered.

"A former notorious rake decided to reform." Belle ignored him. Her forefinger pressed against his lips, silencing him. Grinning, she shook her head.

"Belle, stop!" He raised his voice.

"No, I will say it and you will listen," she retorted. "A former rake and a scoundrel plans to reestablish the reputation of his family by cleaning up his acts and behaving honorably, like claiming his bastard son and marrying a proper Charleston lady?" Belle started to laugh uncontrollably. "Is that so, Rhett Butler? Don't make me laugh so hard."

"Yes, my dear Belle, this is what my mother says in public. She claims that I have made up my mind to settle down in Charleston and began to atone for my past sins and correct past mistakes," Rhett admitted with a sad smile on his swarthy face.

"And you will certainly tell me that she is also doing it for Robert's future?" Belle smirked.

"Yes, I will say it. For Robert our reputation is very important, and my duty is to provide him with a good name. This scandal hasn't demolished us completely because my mother succeeded in blanching over my image in the eyes of Charleston society. Besides, my mother is radiating with light that she has a grandchild," Rhett touched on the reasons for their current acceptance in the society.

"Your mother is a classic Charleston lady. No wonder she is so pertinacious in making people believe that you have changed. Rhett, why did you claim Robert? Answer honestly, darling. I am sure that it is not to atone for past transgressions, is it?" a smug look came across Belle's face.

"I claimed Robert because of Scarlett. Honestly, if she didn't mention that I was a moron in ignoring my son in her cursed farewell letter, I wouldn't think about it. Besides, Scarlett's behavior made me look at my life from a little different angle… I mean that Robert is my only living child…" Rhett said with an effort. "When Bonnie, my Bonnie died, I felt terrible. I still remember that terrible day as if it happened yesterday…"

"Rhett, darling, don't let doleful memories eventuate in your memory… It only causes you pain. Rhett, I am so grateful to you for what you have done for me and Robert," Belle purred in a sweet voice.

"You have nothing to thank me for, Belle. Personally, I am indifferent to the scandal around my family. They will forget sooner or later, especially given my mother's efforts to revitalize our name," Rhett bellowed out. "I am so indifferent to everything. I don't care what will happen with me."

"I understand you, darling," Belle assured.

"I am emotionally dead and void inside... I feel so disconnected from the outside world and all people. I can feel emptiness in my interactions even with you, Belle, although you are my best friend," Rhett mumbled and his eyes went completely blank. "Whatever life was still left in me at one time has been completely drained since the moment Scarlett ran away and indicated by her escape that she didn't love and didn't need me."

"Rhett, darling, make an effort and find her in Europe. Save yourself and her. She is also emotionally dead and bladdery as she told you at Tara. You will help each other to heal your wounded pains," Belle softly put her hand on Rhett's shoulder. She looked attentively at Rhett. "Break your engagement to Silvia."

"What did you say?" he repeated, his heart thundering in alarm.

"Break your engagement – leave Silvia."

"Belle, my mother will have a heart attack if I cancel my engagement to Silvia."

"It is your life, not your mother's."

"If I do it, this new scandal will ruin our family completely," Rhett elucidated on the subject of his marriage.

"You will survive. You are accustomed to scandals."

"I cannot risk my mother's health. I am a scoundrel, but a scoundrel who doesn't want to be the reason for my mother's death. I should do at least some honorable things in my miserable life."

"And you did an honorable thing for Robert and for me."

"Belle, I also care for our reputation because of Robert. Enough scandals happened," Rhett parried. "More than enough…"

"Rhett, you are making your life miserable because you gave up on Scarlett! Are you an old tired man who cares about nothing but whores in a bed to satisfy physical needs and drinking?"

"Belle, it is not me, but Scarlett gave up on me and my love! She could have stayed to talk to me, and I would have explained everything to her. But she didn't," Rhett paused to clear his throat. "I would break my engagement to Silvia only if I knew that Scarlett loves me and only me. I would risk everything and would forget about the destroyed family reputation, if I knew that she needs me."

"You must check it, Rhett. Find her in Europe, Rhett. I understand your reasoning because your family pressures you," Belle commiserated to Rhett.

"Perhaps, I will find her. I don't know. Belle, I am so tired. Probably, I am getting old. I don't want something to do like it was earlier. Drinking helps me to forget and live in my own world, but only till the time when the last toxin of alcohol evaporates from my body… I haven't been with a woman, Belle, since Scarlett escaped. I want a peace and to settle down in Charleston," Rhett looked at Belle and started laughing, his lips twisted in a sardonic smile.

"Don't be a fool, Rhett. You love each other. You both are so stubborn about wanting to do things in the old ways, as you did in your unhappy, loveless marriage. Nobody is candid and intends to make a first step to each other. Both are too proud to acknowledge their mistakes and meet each other halfway. The old days are gone, Rhett. Make the masks and mistakes gone. Now you should do something for your happiness when you know that Scarlett loves you." Belle was interrupted by Rhett.

"Belle, hush up. I know what to do," he paused to clear his throat and continued, "I can fantasize Silvia's face when I force her to use pregnancy preventives or, pretending incapable of physical intimacy, ask her for separate bedrooms."

"Rhett, forget about Silvia. I have a feeling that Scarlett wanted to tell you something. I am a woman, and I know what to advise to you. Believe me. Go and find Scarlett in Paris. All the more, you will be in Paris during your trip," Belle countered Rhett steadily.

"Belle, Scarlett abandoned me and made it clear that she doesn't need a sort of love with distrust, mortification, chagrin, and irresponsibility from my side. I have made enough steps to her. She didn't meet me halfway," Rhett replied icily.

"Which steps, Rhett? You divorced her and treated her not like your wife, but like one of my girls, a loose woman. Scarlett is too proud and stubborn to forget such awful treatment. I can understand her, darling. Now it is your turn for action. If you don't find her, you are a simpleton and not that Rhett Butler whom I admired for my whole life," Belle's edict regarding Rhett's actions was clear and she narrowed her eyes in expectation.

"I told her that I loved her and apologized for my past wrongdoings. I proposed to marry her, but she didn't accept. What else can I do? I won't humiliate myself in front of her pretty goopy face. The conversation about Scarlett is over," Rhett said imperatively.

"Rhett… You..." Belle jabbered in her last attempt to admonish Rhett from mistakes.

"I told you I care for nothing! I am a dead man in my miserable life! You are the only person whom I can tell this. So be proud of this. I told you that the conversation is over," a dangerous gleam appeared in Rhett's dark eyes.

"The great Rhett Butler knows everything, doesn't he?" Belle teased.

"Don't mock, Belle."

"Thank you for the possibility to be your friend, Rhett," she snapped back. Her voice was very low. A melancholic smile manifested on her face. She didn't know how to embolden her old friend for actions to save his own life.

"Belle!" Rhett barked heartlessly. "I don't want to fight," Rhett forced a smile. "Pray tell me how you spend your days in New Orleans."

Trying to draw himself from depression, Rhett planned to visit London and Paris to meet with his business partners and friends and possibly end up somewhere in Northern Italy in Milano or Verona. He usually escaped from Charleston on actual business trips, as well as some imaginary trips, which he invented to leave the boring city of his birth. So that at the beginning of April he went for a two-month trip to Europe in accordance with his initial plan. He began his trip from London as he sailed from the Charleston harbor in hopes to distract himself from his future.

The scandal around the Butler family was continuing. Everybody in Charleston discussed that Rhett Butler had legally claimed his bastard son with a Madame who had been known to be running the notorious whorehouse in Atlanta for many years. The tongues of scandalmongers were talking on a non-stop basis, and each tea party or charity event or memorial evening that topic was raised to consideration and discussion one way or another. The old matrons were shocked that, in addition to all the past sins, Rhett Butler had turned out to have a son. As they were discussing that event, the room was filled with gasps and groans and lamentations and a multitude of unpleasant remarks and comments. Nobody of these ladies had ever thought that they proper husbands had also spent much time beyond the rooms of their graceful antebellum houses and that at that time they had had enough time to enjoy physical love with other women, for example at the same whorehouse on Cannot Street in Charleston where Rhett had began to go when he had been very young. Nobody of respectable ladies thought that at first they needed to see at their own lives from another angle and only then they could judge others. The rumors also reached Atlanta. In addition, gossipers were discussing that Belle had stopped running her establishment and had moved to New Orleans in order to live with her son Robert. It was a very sweet, hot topic for various discussions, all in unpleasant, condemnatory, and accusatory tones.

Eleanor, Silvia, and Rosemary were often asked how Rhett could do so many shameful things in his life. Eleanor didn't like the public disgrace of the Butler name, but tried to allay herself with the fact that now she had a grandchild, the only grandchild, she mused. Her daughter Rosemary hadn't even expressed any interest to find a good man for herself and get married, and Eleanor had stopped asking Rosemary to pay attention to the fact that she had to be married soon. Her son Ross was a dyed-in-the-wool alcoholic and was unlikely to ever marry again. Therefore, Eleanor was very happy that she had at least one grandchild with Rhett. She also silently prayed that Rhett would marry Silvia and find his peace in Charleston, possibly having more children with Silvia.

On afternoons at home, old matrons of Charleston were always awaiting Eleanor to call on them and listen to her explanations about Rhett's scandalous behavior. Eleanor usually answered that Rhett had stepped on the road of atonement of his past sins and shameful things he had committed before. Eleanor emphasized that Rhett had claimed the boy because he realized that Robert was his only living child and a child wasn't responsible for the sins of his parents. The old matrons waved their head in understanding, but continued gossiping. However, what things stated by Eleanor Butler sounded quite reasonable and some of the Old Guard of Charleston began to believe that Rhett was on the way of correcting past mistakes.

Silvia and Rosemary represented a silent coalition against Rhett's shameful, scandalous actions and his wanton behavior, connected with the fact that he had recently claimed his son with Belle Watling – _Robert Arthur Butler_. Both Rosemary and Silvia hated Robert, although they had never seen him. Both Rosemary and Silvia were unhappy that Rhett had claimed his son with Belle Watling. At the same time, they were more afraid of the boy becoming the legitimate heir of the Butler family than of the public scandal. Neither Silvia, nor Rosemarie wanted the money of the Butler family to leak from the family and go to a bastard boy who was a son of the notorious prostitute in Atlanta. Before Rhett claimed the boy as his son, Rosemary and Silvia had done everything possible to over-persuade Rhett in his decision. Neither the arguments about the public scandal, not the insults that Robert's mother had been a prostitute, had helped them. Finally they surrendered and stopped pleading Rhett to push the boy away from him. Everything was in vain, they mused. So they stopped asking and changed the tactic.

However, despite being enraged and having their hearts poisoned with venom against Robert Butler, if asked in public about their opinion on the matter, Rosemary and Silvia had only shaken their heads in uncertainty and kept silent. All the campaign for the improvement of the reputation of the Butler family was lead by Eleanor Butler. Silvia and Rosemary knew that they couldn't do something that could cast a single, tiny shadow on their reputation as proper ladies of Charleston. They intended to continue being proper, modest, gentle ladies, moral and king, with their high Southern virtues and exclusive respectability. Hilariously, the question was whether they indeed were as proper as they wanted to seem. Silvia and Rosemary had a well-thought, strategic plan how to behave in various situations, and they were always very careful. They planned to estrange Rhett from the boy later. They even stopped objecting that Robert could possibly visit Rhett and Eleanor in their house on the Battery. However, they agreement and artificial smiles were no more than a usual façade that masked their true feeling for the boy – displeasure, disgust with his origin, hatred, and fear to lose a great part of the Butler fortune.

Silvia and Rosemary were leading a busy life of Charlestonian matrons. Tea parties, memorial evenings, and charity in all imaginary kinds took much of their time throughout the week, at times even the weekends. They were so busy during the last days that they didn't have even time to discuss the upcoming marriage between Rhett and Silvia. After the charity event for the Confederacy soldiers and orphans, Silvia finally found a chance to talk to Rosemary. She was happy that she had a chance to again express her gratitude and her concerns to her confident Rosemary. Silvia and Rosemary had always felt very close to each other, and now they were even more bonded as their blood-minded plan to make Rhett settle down in Charleston united them together as two blood sisters. They felt that in all their essence, completely to their Catonian, severe hearts.

Silvia hugged Rosemary. "My darling Rosemary, thank you very much for helping me in my mission. I cannot figure out what I could have done without you," she said.

Rosemary smiled. "Silvia, you are like a sister to me."

"The same for me," Silvia returned.

"I helped you because Rhett will finally forgive me anyway. But I hate Scarlett. I want for Rhett a gentlewoman as a wife." Rosemary tried to hold back her malicious laugh in her wicked nature. "We will win, Silvia. Darling, we must win."

"I know, my dear. I am also not happy that Rhett claimed that bastard. Think, my dear, his mother is a prostitute! It is Scarlett's entire fault. He will take wealth from the family and my children," Silvia complained, letting out some tears in the corners of her eyes.

"I detest the idea of claiming this bastard. Silvia, you better think how to have children with Rhett to make him bonded to you. As far as I understand, he doesn't want more children. But for the stability of your marriage, you must give him a child," Rosemary whispered in anger and despair, thinking on how to tie Rhett to Silvia.

Silvia blushed in embarrassment. "Rosemary, I haven't… erm… been with him as we are not married."

"A man of God, darling!" Rosemary exclaimed. "You shouldn't blush in front of me. Besides, I see one more good decision to keep your hold of Rhett."

Silvia's eyes grew wide. "What do you mean, Rosemary?"

Rosemary clenched teeth and glanced at Silvia. "Rhett may compromise and disgrace you if you become close… erm… with him before the marriage," she said.

"Oh, I see," Silvia lisped. "It is highly unlikely."

"If Rhett compromises you so abhorrently, he will have to marry you," Rosemary concluded. She laughed and approached Silvia, putting a hand on her back. "In this case we will strengthen your position as Rhett's fiancée and future wife."

"Rosemary, I am not sure that he will… erm… agree to become close with me before the marriage," Silvia raised her head and granted an attentive gaze to Rosemary, her voice cracking. "And I don't know… I… It is an unusual idea."

"Isn't my brother handsome, darling?" Rosemary curved her brows as lunates.

Silvia nodded. "Indeed, Rhett is a very handsome man. I think only a blind person doesn't see it."

"Well, this is the best thing you said today. I thought that you liked him as a man. He is a very affectionate man, popular among the women in Charleston society."

"I know. I love him," Silvia said briefly and forced a fake smile on her flushing face. Of course, she liked Rhett as a man, but her past experience with her late old husband was pretty loathsome, although she was in physical anguish under the effect of Rhett's handsome appearance.

"I heard many times how the old matrons had discussed when Rhett would marry again after he had divorced Scarlett," Rosemary added, her tone confident and constructive. "Even despite Rhett's scandalous reputation and past transgressions."

"I hope we will get married without such desperate measures. Haven't we done enough, my dear?" Silvia smiled cherishingly. "Scarlett is in Europe, and I hope she won't come back to Rhett."

"Darling, our plan was excellent. So far we have won," Rosemary concluded.

Silvia smiled vaguely. "I hope so."

"However, darling, we cannot leave Rhett alone for a long time. We must watch him," Rosemary said.

"I agree, Rosemary."

"Well, in this case we will probably join Rhett in Europe," Rosemary suggested.

The embers of joy were dancing in Silvia's hazel eyes. "I think it is a brilliant idea."

"Then I will think about the matter and will let you know."

"Agreed," Silvia said thoughtfully. Her smiled faded away, and her eyes sparkled with anger. "I hate that Belle Watling is living on Rhett's money," she hissed.

"What can we do about it? It is Rhett's decision and nobody can change it," Rosemary nearly sung.

"It is disgusting and unfair. She is a prostitute! She shouldn't use the money of the respectable family," Silvia cried out.

Rosemary only shrugged. "What can we do, darling?

"Nothing," Silvia said acrimoniously.

As Silvia referred to the respectable families, she had forgot how Rhett had earned his money – in the blockade running times and during his numerous audacious, risky adventurous. If fact, she didn't really care about the sources of Rhett's money as she liked an idea of being married to such a rich man.

Indeed, Silvia and Rosemary had a plan to find Rhett in Europe. They were going to do that because they had been secretly afraid that Rhett could meet Scarlett somewhere in Europe, either in Paris or in London. If that happened, the upcoming marriage to Rhett can be threatened, and neither Silvia nor Rosemary was interested in that. In addition, Silvia was a natural connoisseur of art and hence was very interested in the possibility to attend the art event at _the National Gallery _of London in late May of 1876. Both Silvia and Rosemary also wanted to attend the ball organized at the gallery for the art-devoted high society. Silvia and Rosemary were sure that they would meet Rhett in London. To proceed to their plan, before the departure, Rosemary sent a letter to Rhett in order to announce that they would meet him in London soon.

At that night, the whole Charleston was sleeping, except for the lady cloaked in the black cape and wearing the wide-brimmed hat, with the nontransparent veil. As usual, she left her house at the High Battery and made her way to the deserted quay. She approached steps and made her way down. She didn't have time to catch her breath and to look around, as the man took her in his arms and pressed her to himself. He quickly removed the ridiculous hat from her head and stared at her in the darkness. Today she was happy to see him. She had quite simply flung her arms round his neck and planted two smacking kisses on his clean-shaven cheeks.

"_Carissima mia (my dear)_, good evening," the man said.

She smiled sweetly at him. "Hello darling," she replied.

The man looked astonished. "Darling?"

She laughed at him. "Yes."

The man laughed half mockingly, half merrily. "Today you seem to be in a good mood, _carissima mia (my dear)_."

The lady fluttered her eyelashes down. "The things are not only about the mood. I wanted to see you," she confessed.

The man's lips stirred with sarcastic chuckle. "Oh, Devil! What a gift to hear this from you."

"Stop grinning," she warned.

"Fine," he nodded. "What are we doing now?"

"We are taking the boat and driving right to Sullivan's Island."

"If I may ask, why did you want me to come today? We sent all the information last week. Now we are more or less free."

After a pause, she began to speak. "I must talk to you urgently. Let's take out seats in the boat."

The man pulled back and she turned around, moving in the direction of the boat. He obediently followed her. Soon they were in the boat, and, as usual, the man was sweating hard as he was pulling the oars in full swing. In less than ten minutes, they finally arrived in the same remote, uninhabited quay on Sullivan's Island and moored. The man helped the lady to keep to her feet, and they silently came ashore. As they were going father and father to the shabby house, the silhouette of which was becoming clearer and clearer, there was absolute stillness around. They passed through the small garden and approached the house. Around them, midnight was falling and enveloping them more and more in its dark covers, the grasshoppers chattering in the garden. The woman took a key from her purse and unlocked the door. They came inside the house.

The lady made her way to the desk and took two candelabras. She lit them, and a dim light flooded the room. She turned around and looked at him. She sighed heavily. Then she started speaking, her voice edged with anger and with misery. "If something goes in a wrong way, you will have to leave Charleston. You have enough money on your bank account in New York. I will pay you more this week as that creature will transfer the money from France to my accounts in several banks of New York and Boston," she declared.

"The man looked anxious. He made a step to her and stared at her. "What is going on?"

The lady forced a smile. "Calm down. Take you place on the sofa. We must talk," she instructed. Her voice was very serious, with notes of anxiety.

"I agree," he muttered in a low-pitched, drawling tone. He settled on the sofa near the lady.

The lady narrowed her eyes to slits. "Please listen to me. Listen to me very carefully."

The man furrowed his brows. "I am listening, my darling."

The lady began to talk. The more she was talking, the more serious and anxious the man's face was turning. As she stopped talking, he approached her and took her in his arms. He wanted to take away all her concerns at least for one night. In addition, he didn't have a woman during the whole week and his body wanted intimacy. They made love to each other throughout the rest of the night.

* * *

_Do you see any mystery here? If you still don't see it, then continue reading the story._

_Just to remind you - there are many mysteries in this story. It is a maze of both mysteries and intrigues._

_If you are very dear and tell me now, before other twists, whom you consider the cloaked lady and the man to be, I would be very grateful. I am very interested what readers think about these two shadow heroes at this stage._

_Next chapter the plot twists. Take into account that it is an unexpected twist. But later you will see that it was the part of the plot and that it couldn't have been otherwise. It is the plot._

_Reviews are always appreciated. Thank you very much in advance._


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35**

**Tragedy in Atlanta with Belle and Rhett in Europe**

On a warm day of early May, Belle decided to have a short trip to Atlanta to check on her business. She left New Orleans and headed to Atlanta in a good mood. Belle knew that the girls were waiting for her arrival today because she gave Flore, one of her girls, the telegram in advance. Belle was singing under her breath when she entered the building of the whorehouse. Flore and girls were happy to see her. However, a lady seemed to be waiting for her for a long time, which made Belle smile to herself as she could not imagine any proper lady coming to her establishment. Her first thought was that it was Scarlett.

Flore kissed Belle's cheek and asked her playfully. "Belle, my dear, you look prosperous."

Belle smiled heartily. "Flore, darling, I am so glad to see you."

"You are like a natural lady now. You even changed your clothes. You look very different!"

At that day Belle was wearing a strict day dress, made from the dark blue muslin, with the high neckline, with the small train. The sleeves of the dress extended to the wrist, where they became considerably wider. The dress was classical and didn't include any excessive ornamentation. Even Belle's face wasn't painted in her vivid manner she liked much in the past.

An ambiguous smiled crossed Belle's face. "Flore, I think you are exaggerating, darling."

"We are fine. I was with my son in New Orleans and decided to come to you today. How are you?" Belle asked and smiled sweetly.

"We are good and were waiting for you. I received your telegram. How is Rhett?" Flore asked.

"Rhett should now be off to Europe. I am tired. I will go to my former suite, Flore."

"There is one lady waiting for you. She is in your suite," Flore paused and continued, "She is strange, but seems to be respectable. She denied us the opportunity to know her name. She said that she would tell you only in private."

"Oddly enough, I don't know even theoretically who she can be…" Belle said in bewilderment.

"Her dress is very expensive. She is wearing black mourning gown. Her hair is covered with large hat and the veil on the hat is non-transparent."

Belle raised her brows. "It is interesting."

"Her face is indistinguishable," Flore continued with concern in her voice.

"I am curious who she is. I am coming upstairs to see this lady. I will join you later," Belle pronounced and headed upstairs to her former suite. This room was still unoccupied.

Belle opened the door and saw a lady in the red velvet armchair in which Rhett was usually sitting when he visited Belle. A lady was unknown for Miss Watling, and her face was tightly and completely covered by the black hardly transparent veil. Belle remarked that it wasn't Scarlett as the lady had different body constitution. Belle settled herself comfortably in the armchair and began the conversation.

"Good day, Madame. I was informed that you were waiting for me," Belle said and looked at the lady in black suspiciously. Belle didn't recognize her and was sure that she had never met her earlier.

The lady in the black mourning gown turned her head and stared at Belle. "Hello, Miss Watling. I want to talk to you in private," the lady answered in a low voice. Her eyes were studying the red-haired woman in front of her, and she chucked. She considered Belle to look rather dingy and battered. Indeed, Belle looked older than her actual age was.

"Would you like lemonade or something else? What kind of deal do you have to me? Have we met before?"

"Lemonade, please, Miss Watling. We have never seen each other. I am glad that this meeting finally happened. I want to talk to you about Rhett Butler," the lady stated cryptically.

"Please, bring two glasses of lemonade for us. Thank you." Belle pulled the bell and a maid came in.

A peasant girl in a red day gown, with a very low neckline, put the vase with lemonade on the table, the made her best curtsy, and left.

"Thank you for the glass of lemonade," the lady said.

"You are welcome," Belle responded husky. "Do you know Mr Butler? What do you want? I don't know you. Who are you?"

"It doesn't matter who I am. I want to ask you to tell Mr Rhett Butler that Robert is not his blood son."

"Madame, I am sorry, but I don't understand what you mean. It is our private deal with Rhett. I won't discuss it with the person whom I have never seen," a tide of anger surged in Belle's body, and her blood started simmering. The maid entered and put two glasses of lemonade on the table.

"My dear Miss Watling, please calm down. I don't like concerts. You are a whore and have no right to talk to me like this. I demand that you must tell Mr Rhett Butler that Robert is not his son. His legal recognition as his son should be annulled."

"Madame, I am sorry but I can forget my manners. Who are you?" Belle started to lose her temper and her blood was boiling.

The lady was behaving insolent and insulting Belle. Belle rose to her feet and turned around to the lady. She went to the door, opened it, and showed the lady at the door to get out.

"Get out," Belle ordered. If the lady didn't understand how to talk in a civil way, Belle wasn't going to tolerate that any longer.

"Calm down, Miss Watling," the lady said with infuriating calmness.

Belle looked away. "Get out," she repeated. Still glancing away, she didn't see how the lady in the mourning gown opened the medallion on her neck and added a powder from that medallion to Belle's glass of lemonade. Everything happened very quickly, and even the most attentive gaze couldn't remark the movements of the lady's hands and what she did.

"Miss Watling, don't lose your temper. Women like you are known to have short passionate temper, but better let's talk in a civil manner. Can you do it for me? I am not prone to blow up a scandal," the lady in the mourning gown jeered.

Belle stared at the enigmatic woman. "Stop insulting me and tell me your name."

"My name doesn't matter," she grinned.

"Who told you that I would be in Atlanta today?" Belle asked and closed the door. She went back and sat down in the armchair. She was anxious who this lady was. Not willing additional problems for Rhett, she chose to continue that ill-favored conversation with that horrid lady. "Who are you?"

"Miss Watling, you don't need to know my name," the woman repeated.

"How did you know that I am here today?" Belle repeated her question.

"The fact that I met you today is a matter of coincidence. Luck from Heaven for all of us," the lady burst into laugh and sipped her lemonade.

"Madame, who are you? I don't want to talk about private topics to people whom I don't know," Belle raised her voice and sipped lemonade, half of the glass at one gulp.

"So you are not going to tell Rhett what I asked you to do. You are a fool in this case. You are playing with fire."

Belle's eyes flew to the lady's face. Her gaze was hard. "I won't do it because it is not truth. Robert is Rhett's son."

The lady held her gaze. "It is fine. I don't mind." She was simply entertaining herself.

"Madame, leave now. I can forget my manners and throw you out of this building," Belle said and suddenly felt a burning lump and terrible dryness in the throat.

The lady in the black gown was keeping silent, observing Belle. She sipped her lemonade again. Staring at her, Belle stood up, feeling dizziness and nausea, which suddenly assaulted her. Then she unexpectedly vomited. Suddenly, Belle started to swallow hard. Several minutes passed as Belle was struggling with nausea and weakness, which were gradually capturing her body. Then Belle fainted on the wooden floor.

The lady in the mourning gown leapt to her feet and burst into a chilling loud laugh. She looked at Belle and smiled under the veil.

"You didn't want to do what I asked. You preferred to play with me. You countered me. You preferred to die. Now devil will take you, you dirty prostitute," the lady whispered.

Then the murderess took Belle's glass with intention to pour its contents in the sink in the bathroom of her suite, but was distracted by the approaching voices outside. She put the glass on the table. When the voices disappeared, she rushed to the door and went downstairs, having forgotten about Belle's glass. Downstairs the lady in the black gown was met by Flore.

"I am done here. Thank you very much," the lady declared in a rich, deep, confident voice.

"Alright, Miss," Flore muttered in a low, breathless voice. She looked puzzled.

"Goodbye," the lady said, looking at Flore. Then she left Belle's establishment and headed to the train station. Soon she caught the train and left Atlanta in less than forty minutes after leaving unconscious Belle on the floor.

Sometime later, the girls were shocked when they found Belle on the floor in her suite. They tried to help her thinking that she simply fainted, but she was unconscious. In despair, they called for Doctor Meade who arrived in twenty minutes.

Doctor Meade examined Belle and at first concluded that her illness was most likely attributable to her imprudent eating habits and excessive drinking. However, when Doctor Meade found half empty glass of lemonade on the table and tasted it a little, he changed his conclusion. The lemonade had a bittersweet taste and a very strange, heavy smell compounded with strange evaporations from the surface of liquid. The old doctor decided that Belle was having chronic copper poisoning as a result of the unknown to him deadly poison. And as it was chronic cooper poisoning, it was most likely to be the Medici's cooper sulphate, a very rare and strong Italian poison. Looking at the symptoms, he decided that the dose was deathful and the woman couldn't be saved. Doctor Meade went out of the room to Flore and two other girls - Megan and Dorothy. He looked frightened, with a bemused frozen face and a blank glance. He looked at Flore and the other girl, Megan, sighed heavily and began the conversation.

"I examined Miss Belle Watling," Doctor Meade began.

"How is she? Will she be fine? What happened?" Flore muttered under her breath.

"What happened with Belle?" Dorothy asked.

"Doctor Meade, please tell us," Megan added.

Doctor Meade sighed heavily. "I am sorry, but Miss Watling… she… is very sick." He was stammering.

"What can we do for her?" Dorothy asked.

"I am sorry... I am very sorry, but Miss Belle Watling is dying. I think she will live no more than ten days. Nothing will save her. She is in her deathbed oblivion and, most likely, won't awake. You must talk to the sheriff of Atlanta as soon as possible. Please accept my sincere condolences," Doctor Meade said, slowly and sorrowfully.

"What happened, doctor? Oh my God! Our dear Belle!" Flore cried out and other girls started to cry.

"Miss Belle Watling Belle was poisoned. I noticed that she was drinking lemonade. I found half empty glass on the table. Miss Watling was murdered or committed a suicide," Doctor Meade blinked in horror.

Flore swallowed her sobs. "Doctor, are… you… sure?"

Doctor Meade shrugged. "Unfortunately, I am sure." His voice was sorrowful, and it was ringing with finality of his verdict.

"It isn't possible… Doctor… Megan… Our Belle…" Dorothy was sobbing hysterically on Megan's shoulder.

Megan shook her head in disbelief. "Belle couldn't commit a suicide."

"Impossible," Flore forced herself to say.

"I don't belive that she... that she..." Dorothy murmured humbly.

"I don't know, but it appears that Miss Watling was poisoned by a very rare poison." Doctor Meade paused and sighed. "I think it is a rare Italian poison. I don't know for sure as I have never seen such a sort of poison in practice." He again paused to gather his strengths. "It is a sophisticated variation of cooper sulfate.

Flore swallowed a new wave of sobs. "Cooper... sulphate?" That name sounded strange for Flore and for other girls.

Doctor Meade sighed. "Well, it is known from history that blue cooper sulphate and black cooper sulphate are the poisons used by the Medici family. These poisons are very rare, and there also many variations of them." He glanced away in order not to look at the frightened faces in front of him. "I don't have any clue where to find any antidote. I even don't know which type of cooper sulphate was used as I cannot define it. In addition, in Miss Watling's case the dose was lethal. All the symptoms show it."

"Nothing can help Belle?" Flore asked again.

"I am sorry. I am very sorry," the old man mumbled.

Dorothy gazed up at the doctor with tears in her eyes. "Doctor, dear Doctor, please help Belle! Please…"

"I cannot. I am not a God," Doctor Meade said in a low voice. He was also frightened as it was the first time when he saw the natural poisoning by dangerous, rare Italian poison.

"Are you sure that you cannot help dear Belle?"

Doctor Meade shrugged. "I am sure that nothign will save Miss Watling. I am sorry."

"She has a son… her son! Poor boy! Oh my Lord!" Megan moaned in her hysteria. The tears were running down the girl's face in an uncontrollable stream. Flore was also sobbing.

"I am completely sure. The poison should be some kind of copper sulphate… As I know from theory, it is very similar to a well-known Medici and Borgia poisoning, but I don't know for sure…" the old doctor paused and gazed at the terrified faces of the girls. As he went on, his voice was unsteady. "The irreparable damage was caused to her body, and a lot of poison dissolved in her blood stream. Miss Watling will be unconscious for the rest of her days. The persistence of violent vomiting and convulsions is possible even in her comatose state"

"Doctor, what do we need to do? Poor Belle! Our dear Belle!" Flore muttered. She fluttered her thick lashes up to look at the doctor with her tearful eyes and fluttered them down again.

"Her skin may change its color in some parts of the body. Temporary improvement is possible, but anyway it would be followed by the sudden return of symptoms," Doctor Meade concluded. His face hardened, and he stiffened. "If the rumors are true that Mr Rhett Butler had claimed his son with Miss Watling, you must urgently contact Mr Rhett Butler."

"It is true. Mr Butler claimed the boy, and Belle said that Rhett Butler is in Europe now… on business. Belle… told me so," Flore said sorrowfully and stammeringly.

"I am very sorry, ladies… I can do nothing for Miss Belle Watling I will check on her tomorrow, but nothing can save her. Even if we find the poison by doing the chemical expertise and then define antidote substance, the dose was deadly. I can do nothing to help her," the old doctor announced regrettably.

"Belle couldn't kill herself! She was so happy with her son in New Orleans!" Dorothy murmured.

Flore shook her head. "No! No! Belle didn't commit a suicide. That lady in the black mourning gown! She is like a black widow!" The girl paused and raised her voice. "She killed her!"

Doctor Meade looked shocked. He stared at Flore. "What are you talking about? Who is that lady in black?"

"It is she… she murdered Belle… our Belle! It is she!" Flore was sobbing.

"We must contact sheriff. I will do it by myself. Go to Miss Watling now," Doctor Meade instructed and added, "Again scandal… Again the Butler family is involved… Poor son of this dying woman…"

Belle's girls invited two other doctors to Belle, but their diagnosis was the same – Belle was dying. The poor woman was fading away day by day. Although she was unconscious and never awoke, her torments on deathbed were gruesome. She didn't speak, eat, or drink, and the symptoms of her illness were progressing steadily. Her body was trembling in strong, dreadful convulsions, which made _Flore_ _Haywood_,_ Dorothy Ackerley,_ and _Megan Wescott_ who nursed Belle, to shiver and pray for her soul to God. Another effect of the developing poisoning was change in the skin pigmentation, especially in the fingernail zone. Belle's skin became blue-black in some parts of her body and dark-blue-black in the fingernail area. Over time, convulsions and vomiting strengthened, while bleeding from the nose, some hair loss, and cramping muscles appeared among the new symptoms. In ten days, on May 14, 1876, Belle Watling died in her own bed. Belle's death was very excruciating, and she obviously didn't deserve such atrocious destiny. Everything happened in accordance with Doctor Meade's forecasts. She was buried at Oakland Cemetery, despite the Old Guard's protests and threats to tear off the funeral. Few people attended the funeral, including Belle's girls, several representatives of the town authorities, and Doctor and Mrs Meade.

Flore sent a telegram to Rhett's lawyer, but he answered that Rhett was off to Europe and wasn't supposed to return till the middle of June. The lawyer promised to send a telegram to Rhett once he learnt his current location. Robert Butler, Rhett and Belle's son, was still in New Orleans, and Megan had to go there and sent the boy back to the boarding school till the time his father comes back from Europe. The boy was supposed not to know what happened with Belle. Flore and Megan decided to wait for Rhett to tell the boy about the tragedy.

Atlanta was becoming a goddamned town where too much happened in the past, starting from Bonnie Blue Butler's death, infamous Scarlett and Rhett's estrangement and their subsequent divorce, Melanie and Ashley Wilkes's deaths, Scarlett's accident at Tara, and that time Belle Watling's murder. It seemed that the Butler name was involved in every flagrant, memorable scandal happened in Atlanta and was spoken everywhere. The tragedy with Belle Watling hit Atlanta like an earthquake. The sheriff of Atlanta couldn't find the lady in black who had visited Belle Watling before her death. It was almost clear that Belle was unlikely to commit a suicide, and the lady in the black mourning gown was implicitly assumed to be the first suspect.

The involvement of the Butler family made the whole scandal even more meaningful and groundbreaking. The news was spreading at a rate of knots, and soon everybody was discussing Belle Watling's murder. People were speculating whether Rhett Butler was related to Belle's death because of the recent scandal connected with the recognition of Belle's son as Rhett Butler's legal heir. Some people contemplated that somebody from the Butler family could murder Belle, even if not Rhett Butler on his own. Others were thinking that it could be the wife of a jealous client who visited Belle Watling or one of her girls in the past. Scandalmongers were gossiping, and their tongues turned dry from talking. The sheriff only shrugged as he and his people failed to trace the lady in black described by Belle's girls. Belle Watling's assassination was an enigma for both the police and inhabitants of Atlanta.

While in Atlanta numerous doctors and the girls tried to save dying Belle Watling, Rhett Butler was travelling in Europe. As he initially planned, his first destination in Europe was London. He estimated that he had to spend two weeks at least in London. Then Rhett planned to spend several weeks in Paris.

In London Rhett was very busy and didn't have enough free time, spending days with his partners and business associates. He was able to sign several new business contracts, which promised to bring him a lot of money in the future. In the evenings he often attended various parties at his friends' mansions. He was gambling and winning. He also attended the grand dinner party organized by the Duke of Northumberland's family. The Duke wasn't his friend, but one of Rhett's friends knew him quite well, so that Rhett was invited to the party. It seemed that at that party the whole ton of England had gathered to drink, to gossip, and to enjoy luxurious evening. _Algernon George Percy, 6th Duke of Northumberland, _knew how to make the party merry and unforgettable.

Rhett was very relaxed. He was happy that he didn't hear anything about Scarlett. He heard only the rumors about the upcoming balls and private parties. Also, the ton was widely talking about several recent scandals, connected with adulteries and one upcoming divorce, which shocked the society as in the conservative England divorce was simply something unbelievable. Rhett heard rumors about numerous lovers of various ladies, among whom he noticed a lady with the surname Robillard-Arden: the old matrons were discussing the new lover of the notorious wanton woman in whole city - _Georgette Anne Robillard-Arden, the Duchess of Aylesbury_, who celebrated her birthday with her new lover, one of the British noblemen and peers, instead of having a family party with her children and her handsome husband and a womanizer, the infamous "_dispassionate Boreas_" – _Philippe Justin Robillard-Arden, 8th Duke of Aylesbury_. Rhett chucked when he heard the reference to the Robillards because some of them appeared to be sinful and leading a sybarite, dissolute life.

Having met his business partners and some old friends, in the beginning of May 1876, Rhett was off to Paris at the beginning of May. Paris used to be his favorite city in Europe, and he truly enjoyed his time there in his blockade running time. He loved Paris even more than London, because Paris has always been a truly relaxed, beautiful, glamorous city that brought Rhett to sentimentality and romance. During the blockade running time, Rhett had spent much time in Paris and had truly enjoyed his life in the city. He had many friends in Paris, both among the rich _bourgeoisie_ and the nobles. He knew the city very well and was pleased travelling there.

Of course, Rhett had had many love affairs in Paris, and there were several girls whom he had always visited in the privacy of their bedchamber when he had been in the city. One of such lovers had been unforgettable _Anaïs Laure Victurnienne de Harlay, Baroness de La Chardonnière, _a beautiful young woman with whom Rhett had got acquitted at the card-party and had slept on the first night after the meeting. Each time Rhett had come to Paris, he had met Anaïs and had had intimacy with her. At that time, she had been married to the middle-aged man, but she had never been faithful to her husband, except for several years in the beginning of their marriage when she had given birth to three of her legitimate children. After several years of the marriage, Anaïs had begun to take lovers, and Rhett had been one of them. Now, being in Paris, Rhett remembered Anaïs whom he hadn't seen for a long, long time.

Alongside Anaïs, there had also been other French girls whom Rhett had kept as his mistresses: noblewomen Brigitte, Aurore, Monique, and Marie, as well as actresses Emmanuelle, Nadine, and Annette. There were also many girls from _Cora Pearl's _infamous establishment, which had been Rhett's favorite brothel in Paris. If in Atlanta he had Belle Watling's establishment where he had spent so many nights with the girls, in Paris _Cora Pearl's _brothel substituted Belle's place. Rhett had always been a connoisseur of female beauty, and at times he had even had several mistresses simultaneously. Paris used to be a place where young Rhett Butler had had numerous amorous escapades.

This time trip to Paris, however, turned out to be difficult. The reason was simple - Scarlett lived in Paris. Once he attended one of the parties organized by his friend _Hélion Charles Edouard de Villeneuve, 7th Marquis de Trans de Flayosc_, at his luxurious Parisian mansion. At first, everything was about the party, and Rhett was luxuriating in the general atmosphere of merriment, joy, and relaxation. He was talking to many people and played piquet with _Marquis Hélion de Trans de Flayosc_.

Soon Rhett's black eyes fixed on an attractive woman with very vivid hair, having natural deep burgundy color. As the lady turned around and her oval-shaped, hazel eyes locked with Rhett's black eyes, she smiled at him. It was Rhett's former mistress _Anaïs Laure Victurnienne de Harlay, Baroness de La Chardonnière_. She was wearing an extravagant French evening gown with the very low neckline and with the long train trimmed with numerous ruffles and laces. The sleeves of the dress were made flat and trimmed with frills. The dress was made from an unusual, fashionable material - little bouquets brocaded on a ground of light burgundy silk, her long hair was drawn back "_a la Chinoise_" and on the summit there was a small knot of colored silk. It was evident that she possessed the womanly curves, including her long legs, full breasts, and perfectly shaped hips. As Anaïs saw Rhett, she broke her conversation and approached Rhett.

Anaïs narrowed her eyes, her glance seductive. "Good evening, Rhett."

Rhett bowed to her. "Good evening, Anaïs. You look very well.

Anais smiled at him. "Thank you, Rhett. How are you doing, my dashing blockade runner?"

"I am doing perfectly fine. How are you?" he said.

Anaïs shrugged. "I am fine. I am currently together with _Duke Roger d'Estissac_." Her eyes flew to a tall, dark-haired man in the elegant dark blue evening attire. The she again stared at Rhett.

Rhett chuckled. "It seems that nothing has changed in your life, Anaïs."

"Rhett, I know that you had been in Paris after our last meeting in October 1867. You even didn't try to find me in Paris," Anaïs said sorrowfully.

Rhett smiled audaciously at her. It was a malicious smile. "And why should I try to find you? You have other men to take care of you."

Anaïs flinched at Rhett's directedness. She raised her chin and smiled arrogantly. "Rhett, do you know why you are so unhappy in your private life? It is because you are an utter black-hearted scoundrel," she said and walked away.

Rhett tried to smile, but he was too stunned as he didn't expect Anaïs to know about his unhappy private life. He didn't expect such unpleasant behavior from Anaïs, usually so vivacious and so cordial. Was Rhett too straightforward? What did he do wrong? He was behaving as he usually behaved with his former mistresses. Anaïs acted strangely, Rhett mused. The dark irony of the situation was that Anaïs had known that Rhett and Scarlett had been divorced – Anaïs was _Marquis Mathieu de Bréval's_ first cousin, but Rhett didn't know about that. Rhett didn't know that the Harlays and the Harlay-Champvallons were so closely related to each other. Indeed, they had various titles – _Marquis de Bréval_ for the Harlay-Champvallons and _Count de Cesy _and_ Baron de Maule_ for the Harlays. If Rhett had known about that, he would have talked to Anaïs.

As the evening continued, another negative surprise emerged. All smiles and joy were gone again and only darkness was left: Rhett heard the news about Scarlett and Annabelle from one of the gossipers. As in a bad dream, Rhett glimpsed around in confusion and continued listening to the rumors.

"Have you seen the Robillard sisters on the recent party at Duke de Mortemart's mansion? _Madame Annabelle de Robillard _seems to be the center of a new scandal."

"My Lord! What is this time? Does she have a new lover or a husband?"

"She has a new scandalous love affair with his Grace _Elzéar Charles Antoine de Sabran-Pontevès, 3rd Duke de Sabran and 1st Count de Pontevès_."

"No doubt Madame Annabelle de Robillard likes this man."

"In addition, Madame Annabelle is currently adopting her bastard son."

"I have heard about it."

"My goodness! This is a bold decision for Madame Annabelle… And _Marquise Scarlett de Bréval._"

"And what did she do? These sisters are beautiful bitches."

"Madame Scarlett has been known as _the Marquise of Naples_ since the last year's ball at the palace of his Grace the Duke of Naples in Naples in Italy."

"Rumors are that Madame Scarlett is having a love affair with _Vittorio Amedeo Alberto di Savoia, the Duke of Naples_. Somebody saw them in a tight embrace."

"I will be damned! What news! You only imagine!"

"Madame Scarlett and his Grace Vittorio Amedeo!"

"Slap me! These two sisters are indeed temptresses! Are you sure in the love affair between the Duke of Naples and Marquise de Bréval?"

"One hundred percent that they are lovers. The information is from a very reliable source."

"They are beautiful _femmes fatales._"

"They buried three husbands, and Scarlett is also a divorced lady. This is so scandalous."

"Everything that is unusual and uncommon is scandalous."

"Oh! They are everywhere where a scandal is."

"At least the Robillards sisters are not boring like many other ladies."

"His Grace Duke di Savoia and his Grace Duke de Sabran made excellent choices."

Rhett was dumbfounded. For him it was too much. Never, even in his most violent dreams, had he fantasized that Scarlett would become a mistress of the Duke of Naples. She rejected his proposal to become his mistress, which he made to her during the war. At the same time, Rhett knew that Scarlett can do desperate things and commit to scandalous promises in despair. Now she had a title and was rich, and, hence, Rhett couldn't imagine Scarlett following her "do-or-die" approach, which, a long time ago, resulted in proposing herself to him in the jail in order to pay taxes for Tara. Nonetheless, given that Scarlett was a part of high aristocratic society, Rhett couldn't exclude that she had changed her life principles and rules. Scarlett always acted in accordance with her own interests and often ignored the rules of proper society in the past. Here, in Europe, despite still being a world full of arranged marriages and political alliances, standards and rules were not as strict as those in the American South, and Rhett presupposed that Scarlett should have loved this kind of indulgence for aristocrats. He admitted that she would probably find a lover under herb effect of society values and new friends, including her well-known friend and relative Annabelle de Robillard. Rhett was sure that Annabelle's personal life was very rich for scandalous love stories.

"Scarlett, how could you begin your amourette with the Duke of Naples? I cannot believe that your newly acquired aristocratic ideals changed you so much," Rhett thought. "I cannot imagine that an amourette between a former Southern belle and that Italian aristocrat! My God!"

Rhett was irritated and angry at Scarlett. He could hardly believe that it was possible. Rhett's mind imagined how the Duke of Naples leaned over Scarlett and his mouth brushed hers in a kiss, startling in its sweetness. He felt disgust as he imagined how another man was making love to Scarlett. He felt betrayed.

Rhett was jealous of that unknown man - the Duke of Naples. He couldn't tolerate that another man would touch Scarlett, kiss her, and make love to her. He had a feeling of being a cuckold, although they weren't married. The rumor that he had overheard also made him have yearnful senses regarding Scarlett's treatment of their last night in Charleston. Rhett began to suspect that Scarlett had interpreted their night of passion as one-night love affair. He felt atrocious, remorseless anger forming and seizing his chest, his pulse was rising, and heart was ready to jump out of his thorax. His gumption told him to find Scarlett's mansion in Paris and talk to her, give her a lesson, but he immediately put this thought aside. Instead, he left the party and returned to the hotel, where in his room number he drank till his intoxicated oblivion captured him. It was his usual manner to dull his pain and to try to forget Scarlett.

"You could have done it for your great self-esteem. You think you are a great French lady and decided to behave like other noblewomen. You are enjoying your new life and luxury, spending Pierre Robillard's money your husband's money. No, you never loved me. Falsehood is in your blood. Damn you, Scarlett! But you are in my blood, and if I had at least once random chance to see you, one random chance to kiss you, even for the last time and one night stand, I would do it, even if you don't want me and I will have to marry Silvia just to do something honorable for my family. But I won't pursue you intentionally."

Rhett spent in Paris two more weeks after the fateful party where he overheard the rumor about Scarlett and Vittorio Amedeo di Savoia. He continued visiting his old friends, but the majority of time he spent in his room number drinking and sleeping in the aftermath of his night adventures. Rhett often visited saloons to gamble and lost the greatest amount of money he had ever lost before. Unfortunately for Rhett, soon another dinner happened where he again overheard the rumor that Scarlett and Annabelle weren't in Paris and allegedly went to Naples to the palace of the Duke of Naples.

One day Rhett was invited to the dinner to the owner of the largest shipment company in France, the representative of newly enrich French _bourgeoisie_. The guy was his companion in transatlantic cargo transportation as Rhett owned several shipment businesses in the States. During the dinner Rhett was abstracted in his thoughts, when suddenly somebody from the people, sitting next to him at the table, pronounced Scarlett's name. It attracted Rhett's attention, and he focused on what people were talking about. The rumor was that Scarlett and Annabelle had left Paris for Naples and that they would be staying at the palace of the Duke on Naples.

"Have you heard that the Robillard sisters went to Naples to his Grace Vittorio Amedeo di Savoia?"

"Really? They have lost their shame completely. I remember how Madame Scarlett and his Grace Vittorio Amedeo were dancing only with each other on the ball in the _Luxembourg Palace_ in February."

"I also remember it, and they were so close to each other. Apparently, Madame Scarlett and his Grace di Savoia are lovers."

"My goodness! And his Grace the Duke of Naples always looks at her with such a strong desire. And a year ago she was on the ball in his palace in Naples."

"She is very beautiful, and I understand why this Duke laid his eyes on her."

"Will he marry her? I think no because they usually marry Italians."

"His Grace will never marry Madame de Bréval."

"For heaven's sake, I suspect he intends to marry neither Madame de Bréval nor somebody else."

The duplication of this rumor entirely killed Rhett's hope for Scarlett's honesty to him. The fact that she was probably in Naples with _Duke Vittorio Amedeo di Savoia_ was an indirect vindication of certain credibility of the rumor. Little he knew that at that time Scarlett was in Ireland with her relatives from the O'Hara family. Rhett's only intention was to forget Scarlett because his belief that she didn't love him was strengthening each day. Again, he was accompanied with chronic feeling of emptiness and nothing inside his heart and soul, nothing, except for Scarlett's image and her emerald eyes.

In his pertinacious attempts to forget Scarlett, he visited one of the most luxurious whorehouses in Paris, the exclusive brothel of the well-known French courtesan _Cora Pearl _on _Montmartre_. The house was so similar to his old house on the Peachtree Street in Atlanta, with its red carpets and large-framed mirrors everywhere on the walls that even more memories about Scarlett and their marriage flooded his mind. Rhett always visited _Cora Pearl_'s house when he was in Paris both in the time of his free bachelorhood and during his unhappy marriage with Scarlett. He didn't use _Cora Pearl's_ services as she was known as an exclusively "royal courtesan" after her amorous affairs with multi-titled _Victor Masséna, Duke de Rivoli_; _the Prince of Orange, _the heir to the throne of the Netherlands_; Prince Napoleon, Napoleon III's_ distinguished cousin_; Duke Charles de Morny, _a half-brother of the _Emperor Louis Napoleon_, _Napoleon III; _and _Prince Achille Murat_, Crown Prince of Naples. The girls in this brothel were the most beautiful, the most skillful in pleasing rich gentlemen, and the most educated among French courtesans, and some of Rhett's former mistresses were coming from _Cora Pearl's _establishment.

Rhett wanted to take a girl for the night. His glance dropped at a young green-eyed girl Adele with long silky jet-black hair. Having solved to betray his old beliefs of never sleeping with whores who had resemblance to Scarlett, he paid for the night with the girl in the initial anticipation of pleasurable wild encounter, which, however, wasn't written in the starts to happen. Having undressed and finished off his fifth glass of whiskey in the evening, Rhett came to a girl who was lying on the bed in her naked glory.

The girl rose to her feet and came to him. She helped him to undress. Then she embraced Rhett and kissed him deeply into his lips, and started her usual job. Rhett felt tension of rising desire in his whole body and reacted to the whore's endearments willingly. Adele broke the kiss and looked into his black eyes. Rhett smiled at her. He traced his fingertips down her cheekbone, followed the curve of her jaw until he touched her chin. He tipped up her face to his, and then he kissed her hungrily. Adele started kissing his face and his neck. However, next time when Rhett looked at her, he realized that it wasn't Scarlett who was travelling with her lips down his neck. Memories of Scarlett's green eyes and alabaster skin replayed in his mind. He immediately disentangled his body from Adele's tiny frame.

"Monsieur, what happened? Aren't you happy with what I am doing?" Adele was confused and disappointed. "What should I do to please you?"

"No, honey, it isn't your fault. I just cannot do it now. You are not she… not she…" Rhett mumbled. He closed his eyes, struggling with the flames of memories and with his anguish.

"Whom do you want to find, Monsieur?" Adele questioned.

"I am sorry. Please, leave me alone now. I must get dressed."

"Are you leaving, chéri? She asked in bewilderment.

A mixture of amusement and irritation tugged at the corner of Rhett's lips. "Yes."

"But will you pay me?" The girl was insistent.

A pair of cool black eyes regarded her dispassionately. "Yes."

"Thank you, Monsieur."

"I have already paid for the night, don't worry."

Rhett left the whorehouse and went to his hotel where he drank to numbness in an attempt to blunt his heartache. That night, undressed drunken Rhett didn't make it to reach his bed and was sleeping on the floor. In the morning, Rhett was sitting in the restaurant of the _Hôtel de Crillon _in _Champs Elysees_ neighborhood, his favorite the grand Parisian hotel. Rhett had strong headache in the aftermath of terrible hangover.

Rhett was lost in his thoughts about the misery of his life when the waiter came and gave him the pile of newly received letters on his name. He removed the first letter from the envelope and found Rosemary's letter.

_Dear Rhett,_

_I hope that your business trip is productive and pleasant._

_Silvia and I miss you very much. Brother, Silvia loves you so heatedly. I cannot wait the day of your marriage. You have my and our mother's blessings for this union._

_There will be a marvelous art event in London for dedicated art worshipers. It will be held at the National Gallery in London. You know that Silvia is the connoisseur of art, which made us believe that we cannot miss this event._

_We decided to join you in London and will arrive there in approximately two weeks. We are boarding the ship tomorrow._

_We are looking forward to meeting you in London. We counted that you would have enough time to return to London by the time we will be there._

_Kissing and hugging you, my dear brother, with all my love for you_

_Rosemary Geraldine Butler_

* * *

_Please don't tell me that you hate me for this twist. I warned you that you wouldn't be happy with the twist in this chapter. I want to tell you that it just couldn't have been otherwise. You will realize it later when you realize who the lady in the black mourning gown is in reality. It is the plot, and this story was initially supposed to be unconventional._

_I will also miss dear Belle. She was a good character to write about._

_Be aware that the plot twists in chapter 37 and chapter 38. Starting from chapter 37, the plot will twist nearly each chapter and it will continue in this way till the end of Act II. Act II is the time of emotional turmoil for the heroes._

_Blue and black cooper sulphate was indeed the rare Medici's poison. It is a historical fact._

___Cora Pearl was a very infamous in Europe courtesan in the 19th century. The reference to her establishment is historically correct._  


_Pay attention to the Duke of Aylebsury. He is a very interesting character, one of my most favorite in this story. He is very unconventional, especially his mysteries._

_Reviews are always appreciated. Thank you very much in advance._


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36**

**On the way to London: Rhett in Paris and Scarlett in Ireland**

As Rhett had read Rosemary's letter, he felt some relief because now he would need to leave Paris to be back to London and leave Scarlett and her presumable love affair with the Duke of Naples behind, together with his crushed hopes and evanescent beliefs in that Scarlett still loved him. Although he didn't like the fact that Silvia and Rosemary would be in London, it was easier for him to leave Paris in order not to hear how people were talking about her lover affairs with another man and abstain from his mightily ever-strengthening desire to see Scarlett.

Rhett stretched out his legs and sipped some coffee, lazily looking ahead at the people around in the restaurant. He was keeping mum and eating French breakfast. Taking the coffee pot, he realized that it was empty. He ordered the second pot because last night was again restless for him and now he needed to awake and make a boost. In the morning he awoke next heavy-eyed and despondent. When the waiter brought the order, Rhett began reading the morning newspaper, continuing to sip coffee. He took his silver monogrammed case and extracted one cigar, lighting it. In the same way he was lounging for next half an hour.

Being done with the newspaper, Rhett cast a conceptual glance at the pile of letters. The second letter in the pile had a remark of its urgency for Mr Rhett Butler. This was the letter from his lawyer in Charleston, which was sent by urgent post. Rhett opened the second envelope and unfolded the sheet of paper. Rhett's face was changing its color from normal to death-pale as he was reading the letter.

_Dear Mr Butler,_

_I was contacted by Miss Flore Haywood regarding Miss Belle Watling. As far as I remember and Miss Haywood claimed to be, Miss Belle Watling is the mother of the boy whom you had recognized as your son. I remember this deal because I did all the paperwork for you._

_Unfortunately, Miss Watling died some time ago. Miss Haywood mentioned that she had been murdered by somebody in Atlanta and that the sheriff was investigating the case. She also pointed out that Miss Watling was poisoned and nothing could have helped her. I am sorry but I don't know other details of this dreadful crime._

_Miss Flore Haywood said that Robert Arthur Butler was sent back to the boarding school in New Orleans till the time you come back. They didn't tell the boy about the tragedy._

_Please, accept my deepest and most sincere condolences for the case._

_I will be waiting for further guidelines from you._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Edward Devillers_

As Rhett finished reading, he felt as nauseating feeling of reality infested each muscle and cell of his body. He was horror-stricken, speechless, and immobilized. He couldn't imagine that somebody had killed Belle and all the more so had poisoned her. Belle Watling was murdered in Atlanta! He thought that he had gone mad to admit such a thought. His heart was imbued with pain and emptiness. He couldn't move, speak, and stared ahead of him in vacuum. Although there were many people around him, he neither saw nor heard them. He didn't notice how the waiter approached him, asked whether he wished to order something else, and, distinguishing strange behavior of the guest and absence of reaction to his question, accurately retired.

Rhett stared at the letter for one incredulous minute and then crumpled the white sheet of paper in his large brown hands. He twisted his hands and put them on his chest. He pressed the letter to his chest very tightly and breathed in and out, morbidly and strenuously. His breathing was erratic as he could do nothing to compose himself. Rhett's heart collapsed as the picture of dead Belle stood in front of his apathetic eyes. It made his blood outflow and then inflow in a full tide – his face went deathly pale and then flushed, finally retrieving a pale color. He heard a strange whistling in his ears. Rhett's mind was foggy, plunged into the quagmire of calamity and oppression, and it was tickling slowly as the old clock on the mantle.

The waiter came to Rhett's table again, and this time Rhett heard him. He ordered several glasses of whiskey and sloshed each of them glassful. The people in the restaurant noticed that the guest was distressed and inquired whether he needed any help, but Rhett didn't react. He continued to drink whiskey as it helped him to regain a sort of implausible, all enveloping strength in his body, but in fact this sense was just a kind of falsehood in its vile nature. Nothing could help him fight a feeling of terrible loss and emptiness. Nothing! His life was bloodcurdling darkness, and Belle was no longer the part of this darkness – she departed somewhere in vacuum, to places that were unknown and unreachable for him. Was she indeed in Heaven? Does she observe him from there? Where was she buried? Did the Old Guard let them bury his darling Belle at Oakland Cemetery? Why didn't Doctor Meade save her? Who murdered Belle? Why was she murdered? Was it atonement for her past sins – carnival lusts? Rhett didn't know.

Although coming from the bottom of the society, Belle was a ministering gentle woman with a heart of gold. She helped Rhett so many times and was his closest friend in the times when he was alone and had nobody to circumfuse his troubles and problems. Belle always supported and consoled Rhett. He perennially came to her and talked about Scarlett's love for Ashley Wilkes, the problems in their loveless marriage, the divorce, Melanie and Bonnie's deaths. It was Belle who gave to his worn-out and suffering soul hope and eased his pain. It was Belle who mostly supported Rhett when Bonnie died in the horse accident and Scarlett accused him of being their daughter's murderer because he taught her riding and jumping through bars with her pony. Belle was to whom he came on the day of Melanie's death to confess in his pain and fears that Scarlett would run to Ashley Wilkes' bed straight after the funeral. It was Belle who collected his motionless body from Bonnie's grave when Rhett was drinking himself to catalepsy at the night when he left Scarlett, went to the brothel, drank, and later visited Oakland Cemetery to put a bouquet of white chrysanthemums on his daughter's grave, where he emptied another bottle of whiskey and lost his conscience. For Rhett Butler, Belle's death was a great loss, one of the greatest loses in his life, and he felt even more dead and devastated. Little he knew that it was only beginning of the cavity of his emotional collapse and hollow.

In half an hour Rhett's mind unclouded and he was again capable of cool reasoning. The pain was in his heart, but there were many other things he had to take care of now. The question was who would take care of Robert, his son. Rhett didn't want to leave the boy at the boarding school in New Orleans. But he was going to marry Silvia who didn't like the idea of claiming the boy and would undoubtedly reject the idea of taking the boy to the Butler house in Charleston. Anyway, Rhett decided that he wouldn't leave his boy alone and would emphatically talk to Silvia. Rhett decided that he would instruct his lawyer to take Robert from the boarding school in New Orleans to his mother's house in Charleston where he would go immediately after his short stop in London.

"How could this happen? Who could have murdered Belle? Was it one of her clients or competitors in business?" Rhett mused. "And I wasn't there – I was drinking my damned sorrow to stupor. If I only was there, maybe I could have saved her. I lost another friend."

Rhett ordered one more pot of hot coffee and continued his visible lounging at the restaurant of his hotel. Coffee was better than whiskey, as he decided. He recalled that it was now May 22, 1876, and the art event in London was scheduled for the end of May. In accordance with Rosemary's letter, they had already boarded the ship a little earlier than in the middle of May and were on their way to London. Having considered the available options, Rhett decided in favor of heading to London from Paris and immediately after the art event back to Charleston from London. The real reason behind his decision to stop in London for a short time was that he knew that Scarlett and Annabelle had visited art events regularly in their pure aristocratic life. Subconsciously, Rhett wondered if Scarlett would miss such a world-wide known and important event for art worshipers. His gut feeling told him that she wouldn't miss it, and this pushed him to go to London.

Finally, Rhett took a sheet of paper and wrote the letter to his lawyer to Charleston, put it in the envelope, and asked the servant to send it with the urgent mail.

_Mr Devillers,_

_Thank you very much for contacting me._

_It comes as a great tragedy for me. I couldn't think that Belle Watling could be murdered by someone in such a soulless, sophisticated manner._

_I want you to send somebody to New Orleans and take Robert to my mother's house in Charleston. My sister is currently on her way to London, but my mother is still at home._

_Please, contact my mother and explain what happened, but very accurately and without references that Belle was murdered. Just say that she died. Ask her not to tell Robert about what happened to Belle. In several weeks I will be back to Charleston and will talk to my son by myself._

_I also kindly ask you to come to Atlanta and speak to the sheriff who seems to be investigating the crime. I will be waiting for the detailed description of the situation from you._

_I will be on my way from Paris to London tomorrow and will be in London in three-four days. I will be staying at the Great Western Hotel at Paddington._

_Thank you._

_Rhett Butler_

With this, Rhett left Paris the next day and headed to London to meet Rosemary and Silvia who would have arrived there in five-six days in accordance with his estimate. He couldn't think properly about parties and business meetings, but felt pain for Belle's loss, as well as odd feeling of alarm and anxiety, which he couldn't explain to himself. Rhett had an intuition that something else would happen. Will another tragedy in his life happen? He lost his blue-eyed angel Bonnie around three years ago. He persuaded himself that he had lost the love of all his life, Scarlett. He lost his unborn baby. He lost Belle, the mother of his only living son and his best friend, a kind-hearted, wise woman and his companion in all troubles and tragedies, the balsam for his bedeviled soul. Rhett imagined Scarlett's emerald cat-like eyes, squinted in mistrust and burning with vehement passion. He was thinking about Scarlett and had bad incomprehensible presentiment about Scarlett.

Soon, Rhett arrived in London and checked in at _the Great Western Hotel_ at Paddington. He had lived here with Bonnie before he rented a house in the same district. Memories were again attacking him together with his presentiment of tragedy, which become his permanent companion since he had left Paris. However, Rhett Butler had never taken into account misgivings and prophesies of fate and, thus, attributed his feelings to the tragedy with Belle Watling.

Next day he met Rosemary and Silvia who arrived in London from Southampton where they disembarked the ship. Both ladies were happy to see him, and Silvia constantly assailed him with the questions regarding the art event and the ball in the same evening. Rosemary and Silvia were chatting all the time and wanted to involve Rhett in the conversation, but Rhett remained withdrawn and apathetic. He couldn't smile and was not interested in their stupid empty discussions. He agreed to attend the art event only because he hoped to meet Scarlett when he remembered that Scarlett was known to be the connoisseur of art in her new aristocratic life. Again, he guessed whether Scarlett would miss the annual world-wide known art event and again his intuition said that she would attend the event. London wasn't far from Paris, and maybe she would make a short trip and he would see her. The thoughts that he would probably see Scarlett were like a balsam on his haggard soul. Besides, Rhett liked art, although wasn't a great connoisseur.

* * *

Annabelle and Scarlett, together with Charles, the twins, and the nannies, were off to Ireland in accordance with their initial plan. Their spent a glorious month, almost all May, on the Emerald Isle, how Ireland was called. The weather was marvelous, helping two French aristocratic ladies enjoy their trip. Annabelle and Scarlett visited Ireland in the most suitable times because in the period from late April through early June the temperatures are moderate, it is not raining heavily, and the chances of having some sun are a little higher than in the period from September to March.

Scarlett met her relatives from the O'Hara family and was able to experience the Irish life in all its glory and depth. She liked local people, and in return they liked her. They also liked the children and Annabelle. They accepted them unconditionally, and the cold mask of polite impersonal indifference wasn't necessary there. In Ireland people simply lived and enjoyed their lives, without any hypocrisy, ceremoniousness, care for respectability, and other Victorian manners. Having thrown off all their disguise and masks, Scarlett and Annabelle were happy there.

Now, Scarlett completely grasped and felt in all her bones what the so-called Irish temperament meant in real-life practice. Being a mixture of Ardent ego, excessive stubbornness, protuberant courage, short flaming temper, naturalness, warmth, vivacious spirit, and strong energy, her O'Hara kins were so similar to her father Gerald and to the old Scarlett, whose personality has changed so much as a result of numerous troubles and hardships she had to live through. All these traits of personality were still alive in the old Scarlett, but it was somewhere deeply inside her heart and soul. In Ireland she felt how easy it was to live without a mask among so similar to her people, without concerns and tragedies, care for respectability, at times absurdly existing in the society like in that boring laidback Charleston, and, most importantly, necessity to pretend in order to be protected from the cruel outside world.

The whole nature was reviving and flourishing after the winter. Both Scarlett and Annabelle were fascinated with wildlife and breathtaking scenery and panoramas of mountains, lakes, forests, and waterways. Annabelle and Scarlett were astonished by a wealth of landscapes to watch, including craggy mountains, fog-shrouded coastlines, numerous island-filled bays, and extensive networks of inland waterways. One of the most memorable experiences was their visit to a lively fishing village where they had a picnic and tried some of the best seafood they had ever been served with. Almost every day they all went to forests and had picnics.

Knowing that a lot of castles, stone towers, and other fortifications can be found in Ireland, Annabelle and Scarlett visited several medieval castles. Some of these castles were restored up to their former greatness and importance, while others lied in ruin. Most of these castles were owned by the heads of the noble houses or titled English gentry. Both ladies were in amazement from the architectural peculiarities of the castles which were fortified dwellings for the protection against raids and invaders, unlike magnificent castles in France and Italy which were built as a dwelling of royalty and richness and to which they were accustomed to. All Irish castles were dark with very few windows that were just large enough to see who was approaching to the castle. The darkness of Irish castles reminded Scarlett her own old house in Atlanta, and she felt happy that her house in Paris and some other castles and a house which were bought by her during the last years were not so dark and more reviviscent. Scarlett also visited the Old Tara about which her father Gerald told her many times, which made her feeling even more soul-balanced and peaceful. She took some land from this majestic place and gave an oath to herself to put some of this land on her father's grave at Tara.

One of the evenings in the middle of May, Annabelle and Scarlett were spending time outside the small cottage, in which they lived in the past month, and were contemplating the starts in the dark sky.

"These people are like my father Gerald. They are happy with what they have now. They are unlike me or you… They are happier. No dispassionate, unemotional masks. No impersonal pretense and feints."

"Your Irish relatives are very different from us. They are simple kind people, but they are happy in this simplicity. They don't need masks."

"The Robillards are very different. There are pathos, arrogance, and high self-esteem. The Robillards are pure old French aristocrats, cold and passionless when and where necessary and natural whenever possible," Scarlett supplied.

"Darling, don't forget about natural grace, charm, and exquisiteness of the Robillards, as well as our fearlessness," Annabelle finished.

Scarlett drew a deep breath. "Correct. Maybe, I should visit Ireland again for a longer time," she said dreamily.

"I support the idea. I am ready to live here if these damned Opportunistic Republicans deprive French aristocracy of our perquisites and liberties," Annabelle was singing in her resonant, joyful voice.

"God's nightgown!" Scarlett exclaimed heartedly. "I absolutely love this country."

"The same with me. I like this country."

"However, I want something more stable in the long run. I would rather relocate to England or Switzerland for permanent living, Annabelle."

"Why is it so, darling? Is that because of the merger of Ireland and England with effect from 1800 or 1801, if I am not mistaken in dates?" Annabelle was confused by Scarlett's reaction.

"Since that time, the entire local population is burning from desire to get rid of the authority of abhorrent English conquerors," Scarlett elucidated on the topic and continued, "My father told me about th_e Great Famine or Irish Potato Famine of 1845-1852_, when a lot of people died and millions migrated to the States and continental Europe."

"Your father's brother, James O'Hara, told me that the Great Famine was the watershed in the history of Ireland because it changed dramatically the political, geographic, and even cultural backgrounds of the country," Annabelle sighed heavily. "They even cannot use their national language for children at schools."

"Indeed, the usage of national Irish language declined sharply on the back of the creation of the National School education system. So now Irish is a pure minority language. Local population's hatred for this is undeniable," Scarlett commented.

"James mentioned that leading Irish politicians use English on a broad scale. They view Irish language as backward and consider English the language of the future for the whole country," Annabelle fluttered down her beautiful long eyelashes. "Poor Irish children cannot speak the language of their ancestors."

"Correct. Irish was largely replaced by English. Currently, there is no significant public mainstream nationalism, as it was suppressed by British before. In the meantime, Ireland isn't a politically stable country due to a great deal of physical force nationalism that is still powerful in its undercurrent form."

"I understand their disapproving mood of British policy but their concealed vehement hatred for everything and everybody associated with England may result in a series of violent rebellions," Annabelle said, being preoccupied with thoughts of potential threats for living in Ireland.

"Bizarrely, I thought of the same. Better to live in England or Switzerland, where we have bought some baking shares, if it hasn't slipped your mind yet, darling," Scarlett smiled wryly at Annabelle.

"Or stay in France, my green-eyed elfin. However, I am so fond of naturalness and candor in people's relations in Ireland. They accept you for your personality and not for status or richness, in contrast to France," Annabelle's eyes clouded up and a bolt of melancholy glimpsed through her light-rosy face.

"Frankly, I feel more composed in Ireland. Maybe, it is peace I was looking for, isn't it? Besides, I am mesmerized by nature of this Emerald Isle. I feel so even-tempered," Scarlett whispered and looked on the sky with her elf-struck glossy emerald eyes.

"Darling, I absolutely love this place. Let's travel here for more time in the summer. Remember they told us that in the summer the weather is good for picnics. And Ireland is also famous for its horses," Annabelle continued dreaming.

"Oh, Annabelle, I feel that we are doing something incorrect in our Parisian life… Maybe, it is better to live without conventionalities, masks of polite indifference, respectability… Maybe, we will be able to enjoy life more and breathe with full lungs and fly like the birds…" Scarlett was almost singing, and a flood of warmth and relaxation overcame her entire body.

"Scarlett, I have never seen you to be so maudlin and melodramatic," Annabelle was laughing and smiling softly. "Any thoughts of Rhett Butler overcame your mind, freshened by Irish air?"

"Annabelle, you are a sorceress because you can guess at a first gaze! I have decided to tell Rhett everything once we come back to Paris. I will send a letter to his lawyer. I cannot send it to his home address in Charleston because of Rosemary and Silvia who visits them regularly as Rhett's fiancée."

"I have your letter here with me. You forgot it in my castle after the Christmas ball. You wrote it that day and left it undated. Do you remember?" a reluctantly sly grin brushed Annabelle's face.

"Yes, I remember, you, grey-eyed elfin. How could you do it?" Scarlett was bemused and blushed.

Annabelle stared conspiratorially at Scarlett. "I was adamant in my opinion that you would need it in our trip, my green-eyed vixen. A gleam of intuition skimmed through my mind," she burst into a consummate laugh.

Scarlett hugged Annabelle, and they both burst into sincere happy laugh. "You are incorrigible, Annabelle de Robillard! But I love you anyway." They were laughing till tears formed in their grey and green eyes and Annabelle took her handkerchief to wipe the tears.

"You don't have your own handkerchief again. I should buy a couple of them as a gift for you on your next birthday," Annabelle continued laughing.

"Yes. One gentleman told me the same one day a long time ago," Scarlett said and joined her friend in continuous loud laugh outburst.

"I suppose it was Rhett Butler, wasn't he?" Annabelle smirked.

"Yes, it was he, darling," Scarlett replied briefly, sadness steeling into her voice.

In a month after their arrival, they headed to back to England to London in order to attend the art event. Isabelle and Blanche, Scarlett's daughters, were supposed to travel back to Paris with the nurses whom Scarlett trusted. Charles wanted to accompany Scarlett because he also loved art and knew a lot in sculpture and painting, like his father Mathieu.

It has become traditional that Scarlett, Annabelle, and Charles participated in art events and bought rare, genuine sculptures and paintings in the art auctions for their small art gallery in Paris. Indeed, for whatever reason _Marquise Scarlett de Bréval _had become a well-known art worshiper across European aristocratic society. Why did Scarlett participate in art events and bought pictures? Was she really interested in these activities? The truth was that she indeed had some interest in art, as her late husband Mathieu and his son Charles managed to influence her in this aspect. In addition, she also attended art events because it was fashionable for the old aristocrats and rich _bourgeoisie_.

Both Scarlett and Annabelle planned to buy some new pictures on the auction following the art exhibition and preceding the ball. They were especially interested in painting of ever-rising in popularity Modernism, which concentrated on wide-scale and far-reaching changes in the society under the ongoing political and economic evolution. They were known as worshipers of _Claude Monet_, _Pierre-Auguste Renoir_, _Vincent van Gogh_, and other artists of the contemporary art blessed by mixing of social classes, rapid industrial development, and political transformation, which found their expression in stunning vibrancy and radicalization of art.

In London, they settled at the Marchmont Hall – Marguerite and her son's red mansion in Mayfair. Next day they planned to start their preparation for the art event and the ball, both exited and in an elevated mood. The day of their arrival was busy as they had to settle at the house. Scarlett and Annabelle spent the day together with Marguerite and the children. The Earl of Marchmont, Marguerite's son, left London several days earlier and went to Oxford in order to attend the birthday party at the estate of one of his friends.

The day ended at Lord Lansdowne's dinner and further card party in Hanover Square where Scarlett played whist and used her new knowledge from the recent lessons with Aylesbury in Paris. Scarlett was laughing because she was lucky and many times her hands shifted to close to her a pile of assignations, coins, and numerous debentures. She was one of the few women in the ton of England and, probably, on the continent who could play whist so well and at high stakes.

Numerous chandeliers dripping with hundreds of thousands of crystals blazed above the vast mirrored room where gamesters attired in satins, silks, and velvets were sitting at the card-tables. People stood on the balcony, their presence partially concealed by the shadows of the mansion itself, but Scarlett easily recognized them – the Duke of Aylesbury, Lord Effingham, and Lord Wycombe. When Scarlett caught a sight of them entering the room, she remarked that Aylesbury smiled to her. Scarlett smiled back to him.

In the past years she used to spent time in the Duke of Aylesbury's company and was always waiting for the new meeting, although she didn't know why it was so. There was something unusual even in his appearance - a vigorous purposefulness in his long, quick strides that bespoke an active, athletic life, rather than the indolence and overindulgence that were normally ascribed to wealthy gentlemen of the peerage. An aura of carefully restrained power, of forcefulness, of security emanated from him. Scarlett considered him to be her good friend.

"Did the Duke of Aylesbury teach you playing whist?" Annabelle whispered in her ear.

"Aylesbury simply showed to me some useful techniques in whist and piquet when we met in Paris last time," Scarlett confessed. "It was Rhett Butler who taught me to play whist a long time ago, darling. Aylesbury improved my mastership, and today you see the result. I won too much for one evening."

"Do you know how many people asked him to teach them? And he rejected them." A real adoration dashed in Annabelle's voice, and a slow smile tugged at her sensual lips.

"I have never known and have never counted," Scarlett teased.

"Aylesbury taught only his sons Jasper and Morgan. He is such a skillful gamester, Scarlett."

Scarlett glanced at Annabelle with intensity and laughed outright. "I know. I appreciate his trust and his attention."

"Now you can play with Lord Effingham, Lord Malmesbury, Lord Rusland, Lord Beaconsfield, and Lord Feversham in London and Duke de Vimeur, Marquis de Lafayette, Marquis de Rambouillet, and, of course, with _the President of the Third Republic of France _- _Patrice de Mac-Mahon, 1st Duke de Magenta_."

"He said that I can discuss our lessons only with you, Annabelle."

"Then you should teach me."

"Easily," Scarlett replied merely. "He asked me to call him Philippe."

"Very well, in this case you should do so. It seems to me that he prefers you among the Robillards for whatever reason."

"Why?"

"Among the Robillards, only Jean-Baptiste, his wife Adelaide, as well as Jacques, Gaspard, and Damien, Jean-Baptiste's brothers, call Aylesbury by his first name – Philippe. Others still address to him the Duke of Aylesbury or your Grace or simply Aylesbury, but not Philippe. Only very few people use his first name, including his own children, the above-mentioned Robillards, some of his English friends - the Prince of Wales, the Duke of Devonshire, the Duke of Northumberland, the Duke of Bedford, the Duke of Leeds, the Duke of Lauderdale, the Duke of Sutherland, the Duke of Buccleuch, Marquess Townshend, the Marquess of Salisbury, the Earl of Shrewsbury, Viscount Charlemont, the Earl of Dudley, the Earl of Donoughmore, the Earl of Effingham, the Earl of Lytton, the Earl of Portsmouth, the Earl of Lanesborough, Viscount Milton, and baron Montagu of Beaulieu."

"Bravo! You know all the names by heart!" Scarlett's face was bearing an imprint of amazement. "And many of them are included in the community of _les sauvages nobles _(noble savages) of London."

"Exactly. I also noticed that Aylesbury is especially close with Devonshire, Lauderdale, Leeds, Dudley, Effingham, and Morley," Annabelle added.

"He is especially close with Effingham, Devonshire, Lauderdale, Sutherland, Leeds, Buccleuch, Morley, Salisbury, Shrewsbury, and Lytton," Scarlett supplemented.

"Exactly."

"And what about his French friends? I know that he is very close with _Duke Roger d'Estissac_, _Duke François de Mortemart_, _Duke Alain de Rohan, Marquis César de La Tour-Maubourg, Marquis Henri de Vaujuas-Langan, Count Louis de Montforton, Count Charles de La Jonquière, _and _Count Ferdinand de Bertier de Sauvigny._"

"Correct, Scarlett. Add to this list _Duke Antoine de Roannais_, _Duke Sosthène de Doudeauville_, _Marquis Hélion de Trans de Flayosc, Count Anatole de Salignac-Fénelon, Count Léonce Macé de Gastines_, and _Henri V de Bourbon, Duke de Bordeaux_. Probably, some others should be added to this list. They address to him as Philippe. Others, including myself, address to him as either "Aylesbury" or "the Duke" or "your Grace." I thought that you mentioned that."

Scarlett shook her head. "I did notice that." Then she laughed at Annabelle. "Darling, you are so sharp-eyed as you remember all his friends." Scarlett whistled in surprise, and then another wave of laugher claimed her.

"No, I am not. I have simply known the Duke of Aylesbury for a very long time."

"He is so formal, maybe even excessively formal," Scarlett assumed.

"Yes, he is. Even his wife often addresses to him as his Grace," Annabelle flashed Scarlett a discreet look and muttered.

"Philippe is very selective." Scarlett digested that for a moment and then slowly inclined her head in a regal nod. "Annabelle, he likes you too."

"And so do I. Aylesbury is a great man, isn't he?"

"Yes, he is," Scarlett agreed enthusiastically. "Can you please tell me more about the Duke of Aylesbury?"

Annabelle cocked an eye at her. "Why are you asking? And what do you want to know, darling?"

"I know that his wife Georgette is a notorious woman, and all these abominable scandals around her name are disgusting. She is too wicked. I don't understand why the Duke of Aylesbury, such a handsome and a rich man, had married such a scandalous woman."

"Oh, Scarlett, _Georgette Anne Robillard-Arden, the Duchess of Aylesbury_, is not simply notorious. She is not _femme fatale_. She is a whore."

Scarlett laughed at her frankness. "It is a very accurate definition," she said. "Why did Aylesbury marry her?"

"They were very young when Aylesbury married her. She was very beautiful, and he was infatuated with her. They had been intimate several times, and she got pregnant by him. This child is their eldest daughter _Madeleine Suzanne Robillard-Arden Boscawen, Countess of Falmouth_. Now Madeleine is a widow raising two sons," Annabelle said. She gave to Scarlett an erotetic glance. "Do you remember Madeleine?"

"Yes, I do," Scarlett replied assuredly. "Madeleine is a tall, brown-haired, blue-eyed woman. She is around one year older than _Jasper Alastair Robillard-Arden, 10th Marquess of Wycombe_."

"Only ten months older," Annabelle remarked.

"Annabelle, I know. Jasper and Madeleine are our coevals. I have known about it from the very beginning since I met Aylesbury and Jasper in London."

"There is less than a year difference between Jasper and you, Scarlett."

Scarlett shuddered. "Poor Aylesbury! He had to marry because his wife got pregnant, and those several nights with the Duchess of Aylesbury in their early youth broke Aylesbury's hopes for having a happy family."

Annabelle's lips formed in a twisted grin. "Men have to pay for the minutes of voluptuousness."

"But the Duke of Aylesbury is paying for a little mistake throughout his whole life," Scarlett remarked.

Annabelle's face darkened. "Unfortunately, it is bitter truth."

The green eyes twinkled. "I hope Aylesbury's four sons won't find such terrible wives."

Annabelle smiled. "If you remember Madeleine, you will remark that she has nothing in common with Aylesbury in appearance."

_Philippe Justin Robillard-Arden, 8th Duke of Aylesbury_, and _Georgette Anne Robillard-Arden, the Duchess of Aylebsury_, were living completely independent lives. Only their six children tied them to each other. They had four boys and two girls. As of 1876, their male children were of the following age: _Jasper Alastair Robillard-Arden_ was thirty years old and was the heir apparent to his father's title; _Morgan George Robillard-Arden_ was twenty-eight years old; _Christopher Daniel Robillard-Arden _was twenty-three years old; and _Jacob Archibald Robillard-Arden_ turned twenty years old. Their eldest daughter was _Madeleine Suzanne Robillard-Arden Boscawen, Countess of Falmouth_, who turned thirty one year old in 1876. Their youngest daughter was _Genevieve Margaret Robillard-Arden_, a young seventeen-year-old beautiful girl. _Madeleine Suzanne Robillard-Arden Boscawen, Countess of Falmouth_, had been married and had two children in that matrimony, but her husband died several years ago.

Scarlett's eyes swung to Annabelle. "What do you mean, darling?"

"Scarlett, I am just saying that all Aylesbury's other children, especially his sons Jasper and Morgan, are very similar to him and have very many traits of the Robillards. Jasper is Aylesbury's young copy, as well as Morgan. Jasper and Morgan have much in common in their appearance. Christopher and Jacob, Aylesbury's younger sons, have very strong resemblance to the Robillards. His daughter Genevieve also has this resemblance, but Genevieve in her won exceptional way because of the color of her hair – ash blond."

"Genevieve, even with her hair of such unusual color - very dark ash blonde, which is not so typical for the Robillards, is the Robillard at the first glance - her character is the Robillard at the first glance. All of Aylesbury's children have the Robillards' dark attractiveness, except for Madeleine and, perhaps, Jacob. Madeleine is very different, while Jacob took more after the Ardens than after the Robillards," Scarlett concluded.

"Excellent generalization," Annabelle uttered in a drawling manner. "Well, it looks rather unusual, if not strange."

Scarlett glanced at her friend with somewhat sardonic amusement. "You mean that she is probably not his daughter?"

Annabelle shrugged in uncertainty. "I don't know." She paused, thinking. She rolled her eyes. "Scarlett, Madeleine took nothing in her appearance after both the Ardens and Robillards."

"Darling, I think she took after her mother more than she took after Aylesbury," Scarlett supposed.

"I think so," Annabelle supplied indefinably. "But I would say there is something unusual in Madeleine's appearance, and it seems as though it hadn't come from England and Northern Europe, but rather from Southern Europe. She looks like an Italian woman."

Scarlett didn't know what to say. "Maybe, you are right. But what I know for sure is that the Duke of Aylesbury could never have married this wanton woman if he hadn't been sure that the child had been his. He is too clever to do such foolish things."

"I am down with that," Annabelle inferred. "Aylesbury is too clever, too intelligent, too business-minded, and too shrewd gentleman to be trapped so foolishly."

"It goes without saying," Scarlett agreed. "And he is also too honorable."

Annabelle raised her chin. "Throughout all these years I had never heard any rumors that Aylesbury had ever had illegitimate children."

"You see, darling, it is additional proof that Madeleine is his daughter."

"Anyway, there is something beneath what we see," Annabelle said. There was a clear shadow of doubt in her voice. She didn't believe that Madeleine was Aylesbury's daughter. And in that case Aylesbury's marriage to Lady Georgette looked very strange.

Scarlett cast an amorphous glance at Annabelle. "And, by the way, we mustn't discuss such personal things. It is not correct."

A wide grin crossed over Annabelle's face. "Are you again trapped with your Southern virtues?"

Scarlett smiled mysteriously. "Maybe yes maybe no." Her eyes turned haze and thoughtful. "Annabelle, please tell me one thing."

"What do you want to ask, darling?" Annabelle questioned.

"Has the Duke of Aylebsury always been so reserved and so formal?"

"Yes, Scarlett. Aylebsury has always behaved in such a way. At times I don't understand why it is so. It seems that it is a natural calmness and nearly absolute dispassionateness. If it is a mask, then he wears it very proficiently. But I doubt that somebody could ever be so naturally unemotional." She paused. "So naturally unemotional," she repeated.

Scarlett nodded. "I agree."

During the same visit in London, Scarlett had a great chance to check her newly acquitted knowledge at the card table, which the Duke of Aylebsury helped her to find. During one of the parties at Almack's, she didn't want to dance and searched for a partner to play in whist. She was bold enough to play whist with Lord Lanesborough, who was known to be one of the best gamesters in London. Lanesborough was one of the close friends of the Duke of Aylesbury. His opponents usually lost largely, and the games at the card-table ended with a pile of debentures signed by unsuccessful players, accompanied by their heavy sighs. Scarlett managed to outplay Lord Lanesborough for her pleasure and to everybody's astonishment. Later for this money she purchased a chateau near Geneva. After this victorious whist battle Scarlett was nicknamed _the Queen of whist_.

"This time you won," Lord Lanesborough declared in a cool voice.

"Yes, I did." Scarlett silently thanked the Duke of Aylesbury.

"And you didn't cheat," he mocked. He gave her a long, meaningful look. "I don't think you are capable of cheating."

"I didn't cheat," Scarlett agreed equably. "As you have just pointed out, I hardly know how to cheat.

"Next time you may lose, Lady Scarlett."

"Lord Lanesborough, would you believe, even for one second, that I am in any fear to lose?"

"I can believe because you are a unique lady," he replied frankly, with confidence.

"No. I am not afraid, actually," Scarlett admitted with equal candor. She slapped the cards down and leapt to her feet. "But I must say I admire your knack for knowing when the time has come to throw in your cards and call the game lost, telling that next time I will lose."

"I enjoyed our game, Lady Scarlett," Lord Lanesborough said, looking at her with adoration.

"Thank you for the game, your lordship," she responded and left the card-table, taking his bank check.

"You are welcome, Madame de Bréval." Lanesborough winked at her - he realized who had taught her to play whist with those methods she demonstrated in their game. "Give my good wishes to my dear friend Philippe who helped you become the Queen of Whist."

Scarlett smiled. "I will do this with a great pleasure, your lordship."

"I wish you a pleasant evening, your lordship," Scarlett smiled. In her mind, she thanked the Duke of Aylesbury for the tenth time in this evening.

"Thank you. I wish the same to you," he said in a soft voice and smiled.

* * *

_Crushed by too many new names which are historically correct? Of course, it is Europe. Don't worry as many of them will continue to be only names, but some of them will appear and disappear in the story. And we are trying to portray the aristocratic life of the European beau monde, so that new names must appear._

_We are discussing the Duke of Aylebsury because soon he will become an important character. He is not a usual hero not related to GWTW. Most importantly, he has a dreadful mystery. His life is very tragic. You will see it in Act III. He is a very complicated character to write about. _

_Please be aware that the plot twists ahead. Chapters 37 and 38 are very important in the poisoning line. _

_Reviews are always appreciated. Thank you in advance._


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37**

**Fateful meeting at the art event in London**

It was a morning of May 25, 1876 in London. Scarlett and Annabelle have been preparing for the art event and subsequent ball since the early morning. They were running inside the house from the grand living room to their bedrooms and dressing rooms back and forward. Marguerite was laughing at them, and under her patronizing looks they were slowly dressing and setting their hair with the help of the maids.

Scarlett was supposed to wear the French evening gown made from gold brocade, with the long train, the short, puffed sleeves, and the squared, indecently low neckline, which was trimmed at the bottom with the line of chinchilla fur and with the line of diamonds above the fur. The neckline of Scarlett's gown was trimmed with Valenciennes lace of great cost. There was also the small, hardly noticeable vent on the back of her skirts, stressing the graciousness of her legs as she was walking. She was also wearing the most fabulous jewelry set - the Marquise cut, fancy, golden topazes and diamonds set, consisting of the necklace, the bracelet, and the pair of earrings, each item matching another one. The necklace consisted of ten large Marquise cut golden topazes, each being surrounded by two rows of glittering diamonds. Each earring in a pair was made by three smaller Marquise cut, golden topazes, surrounded by one two row of diamonds. The bracelet consisted of four golden topazes of the same form and size, each also surrounded by two rows of diamonds. In accordance with the newest French fashion, Scarlett was wearing the black opera-length gloves, which were trimmed with ribbons and Venetian tiny laces. In that fashionable, extravagant dress Scarlett looked as the golden Rococo statue which attracted attention and aroused men's desires with the lascivious leitmotiv.

For that evening, Annabelle prepared the French evening dress made from silver brocade. Her marvelous gown had the low V-shaped, nearly indecent neckline and the long train, which was trimmed with Chantilly lace and silver thread. The front of the dress was embroidered with diamonds and large oval pearls. The silver gauze sleeves were funnel-shaped, having a certain amount of fullness at the shoulder which gradually diminished as they reached the wrist. Annabelle's arms were covered with the wrist-length gloves trimmed with a narrow line of Chantilly laces and diamonds. There was the necklace of real large oval pearls round her throat, each pearl surrounded by one row of shining diamonds. The pair of beautiful oval pearl earrings, each pearl surrounded by one row of diamonds, was in her ears. On her right hand there was a massive pearl bracelet with a row of diamonds. Annabelle looked as though she had been a silver statue in the late Baroque style, which, despite her oversubtle extravagance, was like a statue of a Greek or a Roman Goodness with a perfect, classical beauty, timeless and immortal.

No bonnets were assumed to be accompanying their evening dressing ensemble. The traditional high-knotted hairstyle for many evening dresses was ignored by both Annabelle and Scarlett. Instead, their hair was dressed in what was called the Greek style when a quantity of hair, frizzed into the shape of a pyramid upside down, was framed in golden topazes and diamonds in Scarlett's case and pearls, diamonds, and some silver gauze in Annabelle's case. In addition, some lower tresses hair was falling down the back in all its gratitude and glory. Scarlett's jet-black hair and Annabelle's dark blonde hair eminently contrasted with their golden and silver gowns, which stressed their gorgeous, straight body posture, ambrosial swanneck, and general sublime dignified demeanor.

When Scarlett and Annabelle looked in the mirror, their eyes locked and they exploded into loud, melodic laugh as usual and said in chorus in a sing song voice: "Hearts of many men will be broken today." They were like children who enjoyed every minute of a fairy tale they lived in. Marguerite glanced at them and joined them in their laugh, remembering herself on the balls and bazaars in her youth. Later, Charles and two ladies headed downstairs and all, singing in French, jumped into the carriage.

Annabelle, Scarlett, and Charles finally arrived. Their carriage stopped near the National Gallery, and they moved out of the carriage. Looking around, they were stunned by the number of people in the queue for the event. Having invitations of a special kind due to their active participation in the events of this kind, they went to VIP-door and slipped inside the building quickly.

At the same time, in the general queue to the building, Silvia, Rosemary, and Rhett were standing in irritation. They spent around twenty five minutes in the line and anger began to simmer in them.

"Why cannot the organizers of this event locate the guests properly? How is it possible?" Rosemary was complaining.

"Darling, I am so tired. Rhett, please, tell them to let as be ahead of others," Silvia nearly sung and grimaced pathetically.

"I can do nothing, ladies. I am very sorry. This is European high community. Watch and contemplate," Rhett cut them off sharply, almost losing his temper not because of the queue, but due to his agreement to come here.

Scarlett and Annabelle made their way to the conference room and found empty table, planning to take it for the time of the exhibition and further art auctions. As they interest was quite specific, namely Modernism, they took the table near the Modernism art section. Having settled on the comfortable sofa, they ordered a bottle of wine and started chatting.

"Look around, Scarlett. There would be so many people here, even more than on the last year's event."

"I think so. By the way, his Grace _Vittorio Amedeo Alberto di Savoia, the Duke of Naples_, is here. I saw him in the next room," Scarlett murmured.

"Are you happy to see him, darling?" Annabelle jeered.

Scarlett flinched. "Annabelle, don't joke so because you know that I have his advances. The Duke of Naples is becoming annoying."

"What else do you expect from the Duke of Naples, Scarlett? He is a passionate Italian aristocrat of royal blood. Given his high status and his great fortune, he thinks that everything is allowed to him. And he wants you. Therefore, he is pursuing you."

"How nice," Scarlett said in a disgruntled voice.

"Yes," Annabelle agreed. Then her voice turned resolute. "I am sure the Duke of Naples won't let you slip from his eyeshot."

"I know." Scarlett narrowed her eyes, focusing on the penetrating grey of Annabelle's eyes. "Annabelle, where is your beloved admirer?" she asked.

"Whom do you mean?"

"Certainly _Elzéar Charles Antoine de Sabran-Pontevès, 3rd Duke de Sabran and 1st Count de Pontevès,_ is he here? The evening promises to be interesting," Scarlett smiled, and her green eyes locked with Annabelle's grey orbs. They laughed again loudly.

"Scarlett, hush up! Annoying Duke de Sabran should be here, and he is not going to put his long, repugnant hands from me," Annabelle retorted tartly.

"Don't be nasty, my dear. I know you will make fun of him if you really want it," Scarlett laughed outright and looked at her friend. In the eyes of both ladies flame and inks were dancing at a rising pace.

Annabelle looked at her. "I beg your forgiveness if I would make him a laughingstock today," she jeered. Then she looked around and saw Charles coming to them. "I fear I have made an ill habit of startling you," she continued abruptly. "But take into account what I told you about the Duke of Naples."

"I hope he will stop making his advances." She shifted the basket over her arm.

Annabelle only chuckled. "He won't."

As Charles approached them, his hazel eyes swept them and he smiled. "All the hearts will be broken today!"

"Probably," Annabelle drawled with a cryptic smile.

"Most likely," Scarlett parried and laughed.

"I want _Claude Monet_, _Pierre-Auguste Renoir_, and _Édouard Manet_," Charles requested and joined in his laugh to Scarlett and Annabelle. "I cannot miss their exhibitions that brought them to prominence, in spite of harsh opposition from the conventional art community in France. Their pieces of art are marvelous!"

"Darling, you will have Monet and van Gogh very soon. I promise," Scarlett whispered and clapped the boy on his back.

"Auntie Scarlett and Auntie Annabelle, I will find Geoffroy and Armand," Charles announced.

"Well, it is a great idea! And please tell these two gentlemen where we are," Scarlett said.

"I will, Auntie Scarlett." Charles bowed and walked away.

Scarlett looked across the room and whispered to Annabelle: "_Julian St John Lessard, 13th Earl of Effingham_, is here."

"Oh! Of course, Lord Effingham is a man with such a great outlook, so that he must be here. Annabelle's brows went up. "Effingham is an attractive, dangerous man, but a passionless devil."

"Look, darling! _Philippe Justin Robillard-Arden, 8th Duke of Aylesbury_, is also here with Lord Effingham. They both are passionless creatures."

Annabelle smiled. "But Aylesbury is worse. He is extremely dispassionate."

"Not in vain Aylesbury was nicknamed "_a dispassionate Boreas." _Do you remember it?"

"Naturally. Aylesbury and Effingham are epitomes of dark and light male attractiveness," Annabelle vocalized.

"In addition the Duke of Aylesbury and Lord Effingham are widely known for their gambling skills," Scarlett added.

"Yes," Annabelle nodded. "As for Aylesbury, he is very unusual man, handsome, cold, and so restrained. By the way, if I didn't know you well, I would say that you are somehow very closely related to this man."

"Nonsense. Why?"

"You are quite similar to him in appearance. Look better, darling."

"Annabelle, stop your jokes," Scarlett said and tossed her head. "The Duke of Aylesbury is from the Robillards. He is our relative. His mother was Jean-Baptiste's youngest sister. Aylesbury has a sort of exclusive status for the Robillards because everybody from the family adores him."

"I know this. Aylesbury has always been on very good terms with the Robillards and especially with his Uncle Jean-Baptiste who loves him as his own son, I daresay. They spend a great deal of time in a year together because Aylesbury is constantly invited to Jean-Baptiste's house. Aylesbury spends much time in France."

"He is a very good man, but quite mysterious," Scarlett pronounced. At that time she smiled to the Duke of Aylesbury who was talking to a group of men, but when he turned his head left, their eyes met and he bowed to her and smiled heartily. Unmistakably, his smile was sincere. "I am on good terms with him because he was Mathieu's close friend and visited us in Paris several times."

"Scarlett, I have also seen him many times in the society and, certainly, somewhere at the Robillards'. We are on good terms too. At times, I even think that he is overprotective over you and me. It has always treated me well and protected me, even when I had a short love affair with his son Jasper, which wasn't approved by Aylesbury."

"I didn't know that you had been so close with Jasper." Scarlett was bewildered. "Jasper is your third cousin."

"Our relationship is distant enough to have intimate relations," Annabelle shook her head. "It doesn't matter whether he is second or third cousin."

Scarlett smiled at her suddenly, open and friendly. "Naturally."

"Our love affair was short and ended a long time ago - ten years ago. Jasper is a lovable person and a womanizer, like the Duke of Aylesbury himself. Besides, Jasper is an alluringly handsome man. He is currently having a scandalous love affair with Madame Odette de Sevigne. You should remember her as she lives in Paris," Annabelle commented.

"I remember Madame Odette de Sevigne," Scarlett confirmed. "She is not a pleasant woman, but she is quite attractive."

Although Annabelle was smiling, her face had a distant, distracted look. "I absolutely agree with your evaluation of her. Jasper never deals with ugly ladies."

Scarlett grinned. "In addition, there have been rumors that Jasper is having another love affair in Vienna as he often travels there."

Annabelle smiled. "I know." Then she looked around. "I like that Aylesbury is always around us," she remarked.

Scarlett let out a short laugh. "Indeed, he is not only pleasant, but also overprotective. When an annoying beau is eagerly awaiting an opportunity to approach either you or me, Aylesbury always helps to get rid of him. It is so useful because there are many gentlemen who, once having success in engaging our attention, become incapable to get rid of under an hour."

"Scarlett, Aylesbury is known as a passionless person, secretive and, I agree, mysterious. Look at him when he talks to the Robillards, and you will see that he is sincere. The same is with his children and Lord Effingham, but with nobody else. The smiles that he grants to you are from his heart and are the warmest from a bunch of them for the Robillards."

"Precisely, darling. I noticed this. Marguerite said the same."

Finally, Silvia, Rosemary, and Rhett entered the conference room of the gallery. More and more people were arriving, and the crowd in the conference was enormous. They tried to find empty table, but by the time they got inside, everything had been either reserved or occupied. Disappointed and tired, Silvia, Rosemary, and Rhett went in the corner of the room in order to find some refreshments. Near the bar, they met Rhett's old friend _Thomas Sidney Martelon, 10th Earl of Leicester_, who was talking without intermission till the official reception and then exhibition started. Interested mostly in Romantism as an art style, Silvia and Rosemary went in another part of the conference room, leaving Rhett and Thomas Martelon, the Earl of Leicester_,_ in the bar.

"Who are your companions? You didn't introduce me to them," the Earl of Leicester said.

"These ladies are my sister Rosemary Butler and her friend Silvia Ferdinanda Albertson Dawson," Rhett answered reluctantly.

"Rhett, do you want to buy something for yourself?" the Earl of Leicester asked.

"I will buy if I like something, Thomas."

"I am sure you will find something interesting."

"Actually, I would love to have a look on some modern art expositions." Rhett sighed heavily. He was irritated by his companion's constant buzzing.

"You like Modernism more than Romanticism, don't you?"

"I think so," Rhett nodded.

"The same is fair for me. Let's go, Rhett," the Earl cried out and grabbed Rhett by his left hand, nearly drawing him to the Modernism section.

They stopped near Pierre-Auguste Renoir's sub-section of Modernism and began to scrupulously watch what was exhibited there. Rhett absorbed himself in the pictures of one of his favorite artists. What took his attention away from Renoir was a light brown-haired boy who was talking in pure French with the host of the section and a lady wearing an elegant evening gown of silver brocade, a silver tiara adorning the head with dark brown hair. He also noticed a raven-haired lady with several other ladies and numerous men around. A familiar raven-haired lady was standing in the small crowd near the tables.

"Rhett, do you like Renoir?" Lord Leicester asked Rhett.

"Yes, I do," Rhett confirmed.

"Whom are you staring at?"

"Thomas, do you know who these people are? I mean the young boy and the lady in a silver dress, standing back to us and talking to the host of Modernism section?"

"They are _Monsieur Charles de Bréval_ and _Madame Annabelle de Robillard_. They both are frequent guests of such events," the Earl of Leicester boasted, trying to underline that he knows everybody here and all the gossips.

"Annabelle de Robillard… I see." Rhett said enigmatically. "Why don't you refer to her as _Madame de Morville_?"

"Madame Annabelle hates when people address to her using her late husband's name. So, as a custom, people usually use _Madame Annabelle de Robillard_. She is a very scandalous lady, Rhett."

"Why is she so scandalous, Thomas?"

"She is in the center of the new scandal now because she has a new lover – Duke de Sabran - and is in the process of adopting her bastard son." Lord Leicester raised his head proudly and glanced with condemnation at Annabelle.

"Is Madame Annabelle alone here?" Rhett inquired in hope that Scarlett could also be here. He suspected that he could meet her on this event, which partly pushed him to decide in favor of going here with Silvia and Rosemary.

"No, she isn't. She is always accompanied by _Madame Scarlett de Bréval_. They both are so scandalous and so wretched. They spend a lot of money on art and on everything. They just throw money away. They have numerous lovers. They are beautiful witches," the Earl said.

"It is an alluring description," Rhett commented with a sarcastic smile.

"Why are you so interested in them?"

"I am more interested in _Madame Scarlett de Bréval_, as you called her," Rhett chuckled.

"Look, Scarlett is in the gold dress with that tall raven-haired man near the table. He has just kissed her hand and she laughed in response. Do you see them?" Lord Leicester whispered in Rhett's ear.

"Yes, I do."

"She is flirting with him."

"Who is this man?" Rhett swallowed hard as he saw his Scarlett with an unknown man.

"This is his Grace _Vittorio Amedeo di Savoia, the Duke of Naples_, her lover," Lord Leicester said.

Rhett's black eyes ran the Duke of Naples from the crown to his tiptoes. "I see," he said shortly.

"Why are you so interested in her, Rhett?" the Earl of Leicester roared in Rhett's ear.

"Thomas, Scarlett is my former wife. I told you that I was married and divorced several years ago," Rhett snapped carelessly.

"Oh! I have heard that she is divorced. What a scandal! And you, Rhett, are her former husband… It is unbelievable. What a scandal!" Lord Leicester was visibly stunned. At the same time the lady in a gold dress got to her feet and approached the lady in silver gown, joining them in discussing Renoir.

"Sorry, Thomas, I want to greet ladies," Rhett said firmly and went to the group of people.

"Hello ladies and gentlemen. May I greet the most beautiful ladies here and two gentlemen?" Rhett asked in French and formally bowed to them. His bottom lip went down in a deeply sardonic smile. It was again audacious mocking Rhett, so suave and so eternally sure of himself.

Rhett noticed that Scarlett and Annabelle's faces looked surprised when they saw him. Scarlett was the first one who put polite indifference and nonchalance on her pretty face. Annabelle joined her almost instantly. A wave of impulsion and trepidation skimmed through Rhett's body as he gloated how beautiful Scarlett looked in her gown of gold brocade. He was contemplating with hunger her neck, her bosom visible up to the neckline of the dress, and her limbs which were slightly standing out thanks to tight-fitting model of the dress.

"Hello, Monsieur Butler. What a pleasant surprise! I couldn't fancy you attending art events in London," Scarlett grinned.

A broad smiled appeared on Rhett's face. "Neither could I, my dear Madame de Bréval," Rhett parried in a cold, half mocking tone.

"Good evening, Monsieur Butler. Interested in Renoir or in Scarlett?" Annabelle inquired boldly, and her blazing grey eyes locked with his dark orbs. Rhett's face brightened at her straightforwardness.

Scarlett glared at Rhett frigidly, with a hellish, yet endearing smile. "Annabelle, Rhett is so fond of Renoir. Only great minds, like Monsieur Butler, can afford such a simple style," Scarlett snickered.

Scarlett's eyes swept Rhett's appearance. He was wearing the black tailcoat, the black trousers, the white shirt, the white waistcoat with black buttons, and the top black hat. His azure cravat was accurately tied above the shirt and the waistcoat. Rhett looked very handsome in his formal evening attire.

Charles looked around with his hazel eyes. "It is very nice to meet you, sir. My name is _Charles Louis Nicolas de Harlay de Champvallon, 14th Marquis de Bréval ____and 15th _Baron de Montglat," he said, bowing to Rhett.

"My respect to you, Monsieur de Bréval. I am Rhett Butler from the United States," Rhett bowed and looked attentively at the boy. He decided that he should be the son of Scarlett's late husband.

At the same time, Silvia and Rosemary were looking for Rhett. They didn't know that he had left the refreshments area and went to the Modernism section. They spent half an hour looking for him, and hot, accruing anger seized them when they saw Rhett with Annabelle and Scarlett.

"Hello, Monsieur Butler… We have been searching you for so long. Would you mind introducing us to the ladies?" Silvia approached and gripped Rhett's hand, but he didn't move and looked at her and Rosemary sharply.

"May I present to you _Silvia Ferdinanda Albertson Dawson_ and _Rosemary Geraldine Butler_, my sister," Rhett said curtly.

"My warmest greetings, ladies. I am _Annabelle Françoise Julienne de Robillard de Bréveaux, Countess de Morville_," Annabelle paused, her grey eyes beaming. She introduced herself arrogantly and wittingly, with the clear accent on nobility expressed in the long full name. Scarlett was keeping silent and smiled belligerently. Annabelle decided to do the same relative to Scarlett. "Also, please let me introduce to you my third cousin _Catherine Scarlett Athénaïs de Robillard de Bréveaux, Marquise de Bréval._"

"Nice to meet you, Madame de Morville and Madame de Bréval," Silvia replied. "I am Rhett's fiancée."

"We know about it," Scarlett put in with a smile.

Scarlett was looking at Silvia and Rosemary's evening dresses and suppressed her desire to laugh at them. Scarlett wasn't accustomed to such a modest fashion and had never like it. She had a feeling as though Charleston had moved into London as both Rosemary and Silvia were wearing very modest gowns with the V-shaped high necklines, with the short trains, and with the wristbands trimmed with a narrow line of lace. Silvia was wearing the dark grey velvet gown and the velvet bonnet trimmed with black lace and a couple of feathers. Rosemary was dressed in the pale blue evening gown with the front embroidered with some Venetia laces, accompanied by the small lace bonnet, on which were velvet heartsease and several primroses. In accordance with the etiquette, both ladies were wearing the wrist-length black gloves. Scarlett would consider such a modest, plain, unpretentious attire to be more appropriate for a small private party, but not for a large public art event at the National Gallery of London with the ball scheduled after the exhibition and the art auctions.

"It is the honor for us to be presented to you," Rosemary added with a far-fetched smile.

"Rhett, we are going to the unoccupied table. Join us with Lord Leicester. You can also join us, ladies," Silvia said in a honeyed voice, nearly eagerly and looked with hatred and rage at both Scarlett and Annabelle.

"Thank you, ladies, but we will join our own table. Have a nice evening. Charles, Annabelle, do you mind going?" Scarlett raised her head proudly, and was already on her way to leave.

"Auntie Scarlett, I will be waiting for you with Geoffroy and Armand," Charles said.

"Thank you, Auntie Scarlett," Charles added heartily. "I see that Geoffroy and Armand have just come back to our table from the Romantism section."

"Fine, Charles," Scarlett agreed.

"Have a good evening, ladies and gentlemen." Charles politely bowed and left.

"I hope you were doing fine in London," Scarlett smiled, looking at Silvia and Rosemary.

"We are fine, thank you." Rosemary's face flushed.

"I have always loved London," Silvia said tensely. She sighed heavily. "Besides, I am the one who loves art from the bottom of my heart."

"Oh! This is great," Annabelle commented briefly and added naively, "You must be happy to be here today."

"Who are Geoffroy and Armand?" Rhett suddenly interjected in their idle talk. Silvia and Rosemary trailed off and glanced warily at Rhett as though they found his question odd and ill-timed.

"Geoffroy and Armand are from the Robillards on their mother's side. They are very famous gentlemen among European beau monde," Scarlett said ceremoniously. "Monsieur Butler, do you see that tall, raven-haired, handsome gentleman in a dark-blue tail-coat? Charles has just approached him and told him something."

"I see him," Rhett replied. Silvia and Rosemary were standing near Rhett and were keeping silent.

"This is one of gentlemen you asked about. This is _Geoffroy Louis Victor d'Aubusson de La Feuillade, the heir apparent to 9th Duke de Roannais and 11th Marquis de Boisy_," Scarlett announced.

"Another gentleman in a black tailcoat has hair of such an unusual color," Rhett snapped casually. "I have never seen such natural hair of light ash blonde color. It is very beautiful."

"It is natural hair," Scarlett said. "I assure you."

"This gentleman is Geoffroy's brother. He is _Armand Louis Charles d'Aubusson de La Feuillade_, _14th Count de Maulevrier_," Annabelle paused, then went on. "Indeed, his hair is very unusual. His hair effectively stresses his undeniable handsomeness, and because of that Armand was nicknamed _"ash blonde Adonis"_ by the society."

"His eyes are also unusual – they are light green," Scarlet noted.

"It is an appropriate nickname for him," Rhett chuckled. As the laugh died away, a bewitching smile animated Rhett's face. He said: "The French have such long official names. Americans are more democratic and hence are unaccustomed to them."

"Exactly, Monsieur Butler," Scarlett smiled. "But I got accustomed rather quickly."

"Geoffroy and Armand are our good friends," Annabelle added.

Rhett threw a quick glance at the men and Charles and then turned his head to Scarlett. "I see."

"We are here, but they pretend that we are not," Rosemary hissed.

"They are so ill-bread, uncivil, and disgusting. Their manners are so primitive," Silvia's outburst followed.

"Hush up, Silvia," Rhett ordered and continued worshiping Scarlett's beauty.

"Just not as plain and humdrum as you are," Annabelle parried.

"What?" Silvia's eyes widened. "What did you say?"

"Oh!" Rosemary's lips produced.

"Darling, don't be so jealous and heartburning," Annabelle smiled sarcastically, turned around, and left, singing in French quietly under her breath. Scarlett heard what Silvia said and also turned around, staring at thunderstruck Silvia in the same manner of cool blandness impersonal indifference.

"Vision is the art of seeing the invisible. In art as in love, instinct is enough to understand," Scarlett pronounced loudly to make other people turn around, slightly touched Rhett's arm deliberately and involuntary making him shiver, and stared at other guests with her twinkling, intensive gaze. "What a pattern of proper ladies around we have here! Oh, and what indeed hypocrites you both are!" She smiled widely in her triumph and turned around to leave.

"What?" Rosemary fumed, her face turned crimson. "Rhett, you must immediately do something."

"Rhett, these women insulted us," Silvia wailed, feeling scandalized. "It was awful from their side! French aristocrats seem to have lost all their manners if they treat others without a single trace of etiquette."

"Stop this spectacle, please, and don't complain," Rhett intruded. "Let's go. Right now, please."

"Rhett, you will do something to defend us, won't you?" Silvia continued.

"I will do nothing because it is you who started the scandal," Rhett announced with a lazy smile. "Don't initiate the scandal, and you won't need defenders. You had been treated with a great French courtesy, without any hint of insult before you attacked and tried to humiliate Madame Scarlett and Madame Annabelle. As a result, both of you were answered as you had deserved."

"Rhett, please…" Silvia implored. Rhett interrupted her.

"I said that we must go now," Rhett raised his voice, his face hardened. He reached Silvia and gripped her forearm. He glanced at Silvia, then at Rosemary, his eyes dark with anger. The look on Rhett's face reminded Rosemary how her brother might behave in anger, and she sighed heavily. The voice, edged with anger, was the one that Rosemary had always obeyed.

"We should go, Silvia," Rosemary hesitantly said, looking at Silvia.

"Thanks God, at least one of you understood." Rhett's voice was urgent and sharp. He repeated in the same menacing voice: "Let's go from here. Right now, please. Don't make me repeat. Otherwise I will have to drag both of you by myself." It was evident that Rhett said what he meant, so that Silvia and Rosemary, feeling defeated and hateful, meekly followed Rhett.

As they were going out of the refreshments area, Rhett's mind replayed how Scarlet's green eyes had narrowed and had transformed to jade green glistening emeralds when she had replied to Silvia and Rosemary's hateful words. Rhett felt ardor in his body and warming blood. He remembered the same color of her eyes during their last night at the Charleston Grand Hotel when Scarlett was crying in her increscent trance and in response he was wiping tears from her cheekbones and chin. He loved her and couldn't resist the charms of this green-eyed elfin. Rhett needed to talk to her, kiss her, and take her. His heart was trembling and jumping out of his chest. Tension was rising in his body. He needed to talk to her urgently and took her away from all these people.

Scarlett came to her table where Annabelle, _Marquis Geoffroy de Boisy_, _Count Armand de Maulevrier_, _Marquis Charles de Bréval_, _Duke Elzéar de Sabran_, and _Duke Vittorio Amedeo di Savoia_ were sitting. They were talking for quite a long time. Scarlett wished wholeheartedly Vittorio to leave because his excessive attention became annoying for her. He was very sweet and his manners were courteous, his conversation pleasant and interesting, but he always tried to be closer to her, take and clasp her hands. Scarlett was a little irritated by this. After the new advance to her about her beautiful green eyes and the offer to have new set of emeralds, she felt a sharp desire to excuse herself and leave the group. The discomfort strengthened, but Scarlett had to endure the sight of Vittorio's hunting eyes silently undressing her and had to tolerate his insistence and offers.

It was the Duke of Aylesbury who saved her and took her from the group under his protection. He smiled and shook hands with the gentlemen, naturally with Geoffroy, Armand, and Charles and with good-humored condescension with _Duke Elzéar de Sabran_ and _Duke Vittorio Amedeo di Savoia_. Scarlett has already seen this easy courtesy with hidden neglect in Rhett Butler's manners, and she knew that this courtesy often endeared many people to the Duke of Aylesbury and Rhett Butler, to people whom they afterwards contrived without the least difficulty to alienate. Taking two glasses of champagne, Scarlett and Aylesbury retired to the window.

"Scarlett, today you are again in the center of attention," the Duke of Aylesbury said with a smile and sipped champagne. "I am proud of you. I hope that his Grace _Duke Vittorio Amedeo di Savoia_ wasn't too annoying."

"It was really too much. Too much for today." Her voice revealed that her patience with that annoying admirer was extreme, but at the border for one evening. "Perhaps, I am not in a conversable mood today, although I am usually courteous and amiable."

Scarlett looked at the Duke of Aylesbury, who was as usual dressed in his oversubtle, a little unconventional fashion. He was wearing the dark blue trousers, the dark blue jacket, and the azure shirt with his wristbands trimmed with a large profusion of dazzling ivory Venetian laces. The magnificent vest was made from the golden brocade and had the dramatic, low cut notch collar and six ornate silver buttons. His jacquard puff tie was also golden. The black top hat and the black gloves finished his evening attire. He looked very handsome and not on his age - he looked several years younger.

"I think the reason is that he is too persistent in pursuing you. You bored with him."

"Your Grace, you are right," she answered with an attractive smile in the air of kindness.

"Philippe," he corrected with a heart-stopping smile.

"Of course, Philippe." She looked up and smiled at him with melting gratitude. "Pursuing me like a pray became a sort of mania for his Grace _Duke_ V_ittorio Amedeo di Savoia_. Besides, I don't like the rumors around us."

"Try not to focus your precious head on this aggravating fact. He provokes you, while you shouldn't react. Stay cold and unemotional, as usual," Philippe advised.

"I am acting so and I won't step the other road." Scarlett sipped champagne feeling calm and secure near this man. She sympathized to him very much.

"If he becomes too everlasting and tiresome, we will think what to do with him together, Scarlett," Philippe proposed.

"Philippe, you are always a white knight for me," Scarlett said with a mesmerizing smile. "Thank you."

"You have nothing to thank me for," the Duke of Aylesbury returned. "I am having a great deal of pleasure in your company. You may confide in me with perfect propriety. I will always help you."

Scarlett raised her eyes to Philippe's face and found that he was watching her with a soft expression, which she might almost have believed to be sympathy, like to all the Robillards. She said in a appreciative tone: "I greatly appreciate your help and attention. But there are a lot of people who pursue me. You cannot deal with everybody."

"Being a beautiful, wealthy lady, you have all the consequence of being one of the most sought-after young women in London, especially given that you are not married. However, there is always something to be done with troublesome admirers," he smiled, vestige of sympathy and understanding in his voice. "Don't worry about his Grace the Duke of Naples. You are indeed the incarnation of handsome independence."

During the following art auctions, Scarlett and Annabelle purchased several paintings of Renoir and Claude Monet for rather tidy amount of money, which were verbalized by the public in simultaneous "Oh... Oh!" upon the announcement of the final prices of the pictures in the end of the art auction. Silvia and Rosemary were furious, while cheerful laugh flooded Rhett's face. Silvia and Rosemary noted that he had put off his usual indifference from his face and it made their temper simper. The Earl of Leicester was gossiping about the recent scandal with the Robillard sisters in the Modernism section of art.

"Rosemary, look at him. He is laughing so wholeheartedly only when he sees her," Silvia scowled in her powerlessness. "Damn her."

"Brace your energy, my dear. It is not the end of the battle," Rosemary snapped carelessly. "We will win."

Before the ball, Scarlett and Annabelle left the conference room and went to the parlor. Standing in the dark alcove under the decorative leaves on the wall, they were talking about Scarlett's sweet secret. At the same time, Rhett was searching for Scarlett in the conference room, but, having failed to identify her, returned to the refreshments area.

"I want to talk to him, Annabelle. I need to tell him about the children," Scarlett began and closed her eyes in order to compose herself.

"You haven't been yourself since we met Rhett. Do it, Scarlett," Annabelle responded.

"I don't want him to marry Silvia just because I was a coward and left him at that night in Charleston," Scarlett said quietly in a shaking voice. "I cannot see him with Silvia"

"I told you a long time ago that somebody needed to quit the game," Annabelle released a breath of relief in anticipation that Scarlett and Rhett will clarify their relations soon.

"Annabelle, I don't know what it is with me. I cannot breathe when he approaches me."

"Darling, you love him. You are suffering from amorous thirst after a long separation. When do you plan to talk to him?" Annabelle asked and stared at Scarlett.

"Here, before or after the ball, or in the evening. I want to tell him that my children are his, not Mathieu's. Annabelle, I love him. I want my daughters to know their real father," nearly moaned Scarlett. She felt like a young belle on her first date with a prospective fiancé.

"Rhett will be happy even if at first he is angry at you for not telling him the truth earlier."

"I cannot wait to tell him this…" Scarlett was trembling and blushed. "Annabelle, I am dying… I cannot return to the conference room… They will see me in such a strange state."

"You blushed a lot. Darling, you are doing a right thing. He is punished enough. This Silvia won't make him happy. She is as plain as my oldest shoes. The same is about Rosemary," Annabelle smirked and took Scarlett's hand.

"I know. I will tell Rhett that this snake came to the Meades house in Atlanta and told me about his son from Belle Watling," the lady in golden gown continued. She cast a serious glance at Annabelle. "Annabelle, darling, I forgot to tell you that Frédéric found François."

Annabelle's grey eyes grew wide in shock. Her heart was hampering harder and harder. "What? What?"

Scarlett smiled at her. "Your dear beloved François is alive. He is in Austro-Hungary now. You must go there."

"Oh, my God! I am so happy that he is alive," Annabelle cried out. She hugged and kissed Scarlett. She hugged her so tightly that she couldn't breathe. She hugged Scarlett and kissed her cheek. "Thank you, my dear."

"Always welcome, darling."

Annabelle shook her head. "I cannot come to him by myself. He wasn't looking for me, Scarlett."

"You are taking all the breath from me," Scarlett smiled light-heartedly. "At home I will show you Frédéric's letter. You will understand what happened with François."

"It is fine."

"Who is here?" Scarlett suddenly asked when she noticed on the wall how somebody's shadow was moving in the direction of the wall. "Who is here? I saw a shadow. Did you see it?"

"Yes, I did. Maybe, they were the servants," Annabelle shrugged.

"Perhaps."

"Forget about it. Let's go and find Rhett, while I will try to disengage myself from his Grace Duke de Sabran," Annabelle smirked.

"It looks like we were overheard, Annabelle. I don't like it. My intuition says that it was either Silvia or Rosemary," Scarlett said thoughtfully and anxiously.

"Forget about these trifles for now. Please, take a deep breath and calm down. Go and find Rhett," Annabelle concluded.

"I have planned the same," Scarlett's voice resonated sonorously.

At the same time, the lady was running through the parlor on her tiptoes. She was wonder-stricken and dismayed with what she had just eavesdropped. Anger, jealousy, fear, rampage, torment, and burning hatred, flavored with a bittersweet taste of so familiar copper sulphate, surged through her body and filled her heart and devilish soul. What she overheard intentionally was no less than her fall in abyss and horrible wreckage. Hellhound began to revive and prosper in her soul, and it was just a matter of time to see the explosion of her true nature in reality. She always had some of her devil-sent powder on the back side of the small medallion on her neck. She stopped, looked around, took the medallion in her hands in gloves, and squeezed it in rapture, smiled in a hellish sweetness, and made her way back to the conference room, which for now was suggested to be a ballroom.

After her conversation with Annabelle in the alcove of the parlor, Scarlett was searching for Rhett Butler. In the conference room near the bar and large medieval fireplace, Scarlett finally found him with other noble English gentlemen. Rhett and Lord Leicester were standing and drinking whiskey when Scarlett came and, having greeted men, asked Rhett to talk in private. She was happy that Rosemary and Silvia weren't there.

"Good evening. Hopefully, you are enjoying the event and your drinks," Scarlett said eagerly and smiled playfully, then narrowed her eyes as a cat watching her mouse, and stared at the dying embers in the fireplace.

"Good evening, Madame de Bréval. Congratulations on your art purchases," the Earl of Leicester began.

"My respect to you, Monsieur Butler, Lord Leicester, gentlemen…" Scarlett gave a wink and smiled to the whole group of gentlemen. She managed to compose herself, and a mask of cold nonchalance was again across her face.

"Monsieur Butler, may I have a word with you? Sorry for disturbance…" Scarlett shrugged graciously, and Rhett stepped forward to her.

"We need to talk. Don't you think so, Monsieur Butler?" Scarlett smirked, and her jaw clenched. He saw in her glance dancing inks and flame instead of coldness.

"I would love to, Madame de Bréval," he answered in a drawling manner and offered her his hand.


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter 38**

**"Love and death in embrace"**

Rhett and Scarlett found their solitude in the small dark room on the second floor of the building. When she slammed the door, she looked at Rhett and tears started to form in her emerald eyes due to her emotional unrest.

"I was looking for you, Scarlett. I wanted to talk to you. Are you all right?" Rhett asked tenderly.

Scarlett stared at him. "Yes, we need to talk very seriously. Rhett, I am fed up with this cat-and-mouse game," she began.

"And so am I. Scarlett, you are so beautiful today. I am lost in admiration," Rhett smiled sincerely.

"Rhett, why are you here with her?" Scarlett demanded to answer, her eyes half closed. She touched her forehead randomly, not knowing that she was driving Rhett to spiritual ecstasy.

"My pet, it is apparently a fateful meeting and night. I suspected that I would meet you here, and hence I came."

"Indeed, it is a fateful art event."

"Scarlett, you look so tempting and provocative, my pet. French fashion and lifestyle equipped you with inimitable seductiveness. You are a princess."

"Rhett, I want to talk to you on a serious note."

"Why did you expect to see me here? Your compliments will make me flush," she purred wistfully, her vibrant eyes sparkling with fire.

"It has emerged that you and Annabelle are well-known to attend such events. Do you do this because of the common interest or because of the herb effect of aristocratic society?" Rhett inquired sardonically and gave her a slight squeeze on the right shoulder. "Don't worry, we are alone here and nobody will come."

"Rhett Butler, you are a brute and a cad! How dare you ask me such things?" Scarlett hissed, but no burning anger appeared in her eyes, which Rhett captured in his mind. "Honestly, I am doing it because of some interest in art and because it is a typical life of our society. I have to attend such events, Rhett, but I am doing it with interest."

"Very good, I hear some emotions in your voice and see them in your eyes, instead of this unconventional blankness and impenetrability, my pet," he teased her and laughed outright. "You are my dear queen of indifference."

"Rhett, stop teasing me! You are…" Scarlett reacted with equal graciousness.

"I am a cad? I knew that deeply inside you remained the old Scarlett. Nobody can replicate you, my pet," a beaming smile stirred his lips, imps playing in his dark coal eyes.

"I know that you just wanted to punish me when you left me in Charleston. You succeeded, my pet. However, I was serious when I proposed to you seven months ago."

Ominous, watchful silence fell over them.

"You are right, Rhett. I wanted to punish you and make you feel like I felt all the times you abandoned me after the night of love with me. Why didn't you leave Silvia and fight for me, Rhett? You don't love me, do you?" Scarlett demanded the answer from him.

"Scarlett, we are fighting again… We must stop this, my darling. I didn't leave Silvia because you were keeping silent. I thought that you gave up on me. I decided that I cannot force you to love me after everything I have done to you. At the same time, my mother pressed me not to break engagement to Silvia because she was afraid of blowing up a flagrant scandal that will blacken Butler name forever," Rhett explained.

Longstanding silence followed. Scarlett was the first to break it. "I understand your reasoning, Rhett, but this is not what I want to hear. I was sure that you would fight for me and find me, while you were just waiting what would happen," she clamored and fluttered her long eyelashes down in anticipation. She felt strong physical gratification to him and instinctively wanted him to kiss her. As a man, Rhett Butler was very hazardous, but only now she began to understand how exactly hazardous he was.

"In this case, I can ask you why you punished me so hard if you claim to love me, Scarlett. Pure and crystal love is not about fighting and punishment," Rhett looked at her seriously. "Haven't we already passed through this stage of our relations?"

"You are right, Rhett. Maybe, we are just too stubborn."

"Yes."

"I mean both of us. But I decided not to throw myself at you again, although I knew that I would never be entirely happy without you."

"We are just too much alike, and at time it can be a problem." Rhett coughed nervously.

"Rhett, we are very much alike, but on the other hand, we are different," she objected dryly. "We are distinguished by our attitude to personal conflicts. Unlike you, I didn't run away from you, except for only one case when I did it intentionally to put you in my shoes. Why is there such devil-may-careness from your side, Rhett?"

"Scarlett, I know that I acted like a bastard. I am asking you to forgive me for this. I love you, my pet," the modulations of Rhett's voice revealed swelling tension in his body.

"Rhett, I don't understand your strategy of a passer-by watching what will happen. It is your life and you do nothing to solve personal problems."

"Forgive me, my pet… Belle Watling is dead. She was murdered in Atlanta… My son Robert will live with me now. I claimed him as Butler," Rhett announced under his breath.

"Bless my heart! How did it happen with Belle Watling? Rhett, I am truly sorry, darling… Belle was a worthwhile person to be kind to… I am giving you a credit for claiming a boy. I am happy that you did this for your child," Scarlett smiled at him in melancholy.

"Belle was poisoned in Atlanta, and the murderer hasn't been caught. Let's leave this topic for now. Scarlett, I have more interesting things on my mind for now, my pet," Rhett answered and crossed his arms on his large chest. His breathing wasn't smooth, and he felt rising pulse and heart strokes.

"I need to talk to you very seriously. There is a lot on my mind I want to tell you. Are you ready for a long-long talk?" a gentle deep breath escaped her full rosy lips.

"My pet, I noticed today that even in anger and rampage you are more composed and reserved now than two and a half years ago. Somehow you learnt to control your temper, at least in some situations. The only fire I can see in your eyes is passion," Rhett verbalized his observations and looked at her with intensity. He said: "You have matured, my pet."

"Rhett, please, we need to talk. But you are right - my new life changed me in many aspects." She leaned forward and grabbed Rhett's shoulders. Her bright emerald eyes flared in agitation.

"You are the greatest actress of nonchalance and indifference I have ever met. This is a compliment, Scarlett." He lowered his swarthy face to better see her in the darkness of the room and remarked that she flushed.

"Rhett, look at me. What I will tell you is very important. Please, don't be furious and mad at me. I had reasons to do so at that time. Now I must tell you something…" Scarlett said, still holding her arms on his shoulders. Their eyes locked, and temptation rose. She saw his pulse moving rapidly along his neck and his coal eyes glittering from emotion.

"Scarlett, my blood started to boil when I saw you in this gold dress of a divine today. All I want is to kiss you and love you. Now, right now," Rhett interjected suddenly. His heart was hampering loudly, and she heard it as he leaned forward and pulled her closer to his chest.

"Rhett… Please… Please… Let me tell you something…"

"I love you, my pet. I have missed you so much… I will come to the jewel shop tomorrow where I bought for you your engagement ring before our wedding. I remember you liked it, darling," Rhett whispered passionately. "I have certain intentions in relation to you."

"I still have it," memories replayed in her mind. "I remember how you put it on my ring finger."

Rhett stroked her hair by his right hand. Physically he wanted her desperately. "This ring has the most vulgar brilliant high society has ever seen," he teased her.

"Rhett… I want to talk to you," Scarlett pressed on again, feeling weakness from the wine she drank and from Rhett's warm breath so close to her. She wanted him to kiss her.

Rhett looked at her and pressed her small gorgeous frame to his chest more tightly. Once they were alone, their passion started to explode. Rhett's mouth crashed on hers, and he kissed her madly and in such hunger that she almost fainted, while her knees were trembling. She responded hotly and deepened the kiss. Their tongues were probing and dueling in a sweet fight of passion and love.

"Darling, I missed you so much."

"And so did I."

"Who is that cursed Vittorio, my pet? He is your lover, isn't he? Newsmongers are saying so, both in London and Paris," he broke the kiss and gazed at her hungrily, sighing deeply. Their breathing was erratic.

"Darling, you believe rumors, don't you? In this case you are a fool! Vittorio, the Duke of Naples… He is very annoying. I rejected him a year and a half ago on the ball in Naples, but he still has some hopes… You were the only man for me, you fool," Scarlett stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, taking the initiative and wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I am glad to hear this. I will never marry Silvia if you love me, Scarlett. Why are you so close to Annabelle?" Rhett whispered in her mouth, feeling how her body went limp in his arms.

"You know I love you. You should have left Silvia. Annabelle is like you and I. She is a blackguard who is against society rules, but a good person. My best friend…" Scarlett said quietly.

"I didn't break the engagement because you disappeared and because of my mother. I thought that you don't love me and you just punished me. Forgive me, please, my darling. I love you, Scarlett," Rhett was babbling. He kissed her hair along her face line.

"My darling, forgive me for leaving you… But when you told me about your attitude to children… I wanted to kill you with my bare hands," Scarlett sighed, feeling weaker with each second in his hands.

"I am sorry for that. I was a fool. I love you…"

"We must talk."

"Hush up, my dear, we will talk later."

"Rhett..."

"I want you here… God… How I want you, my pet…" Rhett whispered and pressed her densely against the wall. "You were an angel of death for me, but you are a ray of hope and peace, madness and passion."

Rhett lowered his head to her face, and his lips, hard and bruising, covered her red lips. He felt that he didn't care for something else at that moment as all the restrictions melted. He felt that Scarlett was ready to accept him. She clung to Rhett's chest and kissed him back with all the passion in her miniature body, while her hands were moving across his large back.

"I want you. Oh God, Rhett… But not here, please," Scarlett murmured quietly. "Rhett, she came to me…"

"Yes, here, my dear… We love each other… I am going to marry you here, in London, as soon as possible," a sly grin crept across Rhett's face as he continued probing the sweetness of her mouth. Rhett could think only about physical pleasure and his hunger for her at the moment. He didn't want to talk now and in his mind postponed it for a later time in the evening.

Scarlett exhaled in an amorous languor. "Rhett, no! Please…"

"Maybe, shame and society rules matter so much for you, don't they?" Rhett teased her, kissing the lobe of her left ear. His left hand was holding her waist against his, while his right hand was trailing a path along her body from her jaw to breasts.

"Rhett… We must talk…" Her head was whirling. "I think I shouldn't have drunk so much wine."

"We will talk as much as you want as I won't leave you another time," Rhett promised and began to stroke her breasts through the fabric of the dress. "I said I would marry you. I wanted six months ago, but you didn't give me a chance."

Scarlett could hardly stand as her knees were trembling. "Rhett… Rhett… Not here…"

"Scarlett, you are too cowardly and timid for a blackguard from a manner-relaxed French aristocratic society," Rhett challenged and laughed low in his throat. "Where is your Irish courage, my pet?"

"I don't give a damn about them… I also want you…" It was the final nail in the coffin. She put her fingers through his hard hair as she was losing her little self-control left. She loved him so much.

Rhett couldn't control himself anymore. Scarlett was also burning in their passion and her desire to feel his power over her body by giving him complete submission to his desires. He pushed the skirts of her gold gown up, felt after under the skirts, and peered away the undergarments. His hand went down to his waist to the buckle of his belt, and he undid his trousers, which were the only barrier left between them. He moaned her name and pressed her tights hard against his, then lifted her from the ground and made her legs wrapped around his waist, driving into her roughly. Scarlett didn't protest, although her subconscious mind told her that they shouldn't have done it. She loved and wanted him for so long.

Rhett was completely losing control over himself in hunger and starvation, like a wild animal before death. "Scarlett, darling, I love you. I didn't have a woman after our last night. I just couldn't."

"Rhett… I love you… I need to talk to you… Oh… Oh…" she moaned.

In her rising pleasure she hardly understood what they were talking about. Rhett was moving inside her quickly and driving them to simultaneous upcoming release. In her vehement passion, she scratched her nails on Rhett's neck and groaned his name.

"Rhett… Oh… I need…" she moaned out, breathing his scent with full lungs.

"Hush up, my pet… Later…" He paused in his movements to warn her further attempt to distract them from lovemaking.

Soon Rhett was moving quickly and was kissing her neck and her swollen lips, her ears and hair along the jaw line. She gave all herself to him. She didn't move and just let him lead their lovemaking. Scarlett was in her heightened ecstasy, and tears of rapture were streaming down her flushed cheeks.

"I love you… Oh…"

"I love you too, my pet…"

Rhett's pleasure reached its peak in their feverish lovemaking, and he groaned hoarsely. They remained without any movement for some time, Rhett's throat being buried to her face and his waist being wrapped by her legs. They didn't want to move and didn't give a damn what they had done and where. Eventually, he pushed her on the ground, smiled, and embraced her, putting back her undergarments and pushing her skirts down, then doing his trousers.

"My pet, it was marvelous. I will help you."

"Thank you."

"I think we need to leave now…" Rhett stated begrudgingly.

"Rhett… It is such a shame! You seduced me…" Scarlett blushed considerably.

"My pet, I said that I would marry you here. I love you," Rhett objected joyfully and kissed her tenderly on her forehead.

"I need to talk to you… But there will be a massive firework outside now. I want to have a look."

"I don't plan to stay any longer and will leave now. If you want firework, I will wait for you in the hotel, my pet," Rhett said and added, "You are smiling like a seductive kitten now."

"I cannot leave now because I need to find Annabelle and arrange Charles to get home, to our mansion in Mayfair," Scarlett replied and finished her dressing.

"I will be staying at _the Langham Hotel_ in the district of Marylebone on the Langham Place for tonight. We will talk in details. I need to take my things from _the Great Western Hotel_ at Paddington to _the Langham Hotel_. You can find me there."

"Fine."

"Scarlett, do you know how to get to _the Langham Hotel_?"

She looked over her shoulder and frowned. "Naturally. It is not the first day I am in London. What will you do with Silvia and Rosemary?"

"Don't worry about them. I will talk to Silvia and end this masquerade of false marriage today. It is my deal."

"I will find you in the hotel later, I promise. We must talk, my dear Mr Butler."

Rhett kissed her again. "Let's go."

"I will come tonight. I promise," Scarlett responded to the kiss and laughed gently.

"If you don't come, you will break me. This time it is either everything or nothing, my pet. We must stop these games," Rhett said imperatively and kissed the top of her head.

"I will come. We need to talk very seriously. Now let's go," Scarlett closed the topic.

They felt happy and turned on their heels from the dark room to the ball room. The firework had already started when they went to the ballroom. They headed outside of the building. Scarlett left Rhett and joined Annabelle, Charles, Geoffroy, and Armand in the crowd of guests watching the firework. Rhett found Rosemary and Silvia and told them that he was leaving early and said that he would need to talk to Silvia seriously later in the evening, sharply cutting any further questions.

The ballroom was empty because everybody was watching the firework outside. The lady approached the table where Annabelle and Scarlett were sitting during the art event. She looked around to check whether she was alone in the room. Her attentive gaze studied the table scrupulously and dropped on the bottle of wine and a large cup of lemonade. She took her medallion in her hands, opened it from the back, and poured out the blue powder in the bottle of wine and the vase of lemonade. She smiled sweetly and in triumph, on her tiptoes, very quickly headed to the parlor.

Annabelle, Charles, and Scarlett were outside. Twins Geoffroy and Armand accompanied them. They were happy, especially Scarlett whose face flushed even more in the darkness of the night, illuminated by the multicolored flashes of light from the firework.

"You look very happy, Scarlett."

Scarlett smiled. "Yes, I am happy."

"How was your short encounter?" Annabelle whispered in her ear.

"Hush up! You know everything, grey-eyed monster!"

"I knew it would happen. Don't be embarrassed. I had similar cases in my past life, Scarlett."

"It was marvelous, but so shameful. Let's have one more drink, and I will leave you. One handsome man is waiting for me tonight," Scarlett confessed.

"You love him, and he loves you. It is the most important. You need to use our magic powder herb, if you don't want to get pregnant! Remember, tonight!"

Scarlett glared at her. "I will do it tonight once I get home. Won't it be late? Where did you learn all these things?"

Annabelle held her inquisitive gaze. "No, it will be on time, but do it tonight, not later. Darling, I was a lady-in-waiting at _Napoleon III's_ court, and I have seen and learnt a lot in my past love affairs," she whispered. "Did you tell him about children? Maybe, you were distracted by more pleasant activities, weren't you?"

"I will tell him tonight. What blackguards we are! Of course, I lost all my control."

"Don't worry. Nobody else will guess what happened. Let's go inside, green-eyed elfin," Annabelle pronounced in a low voice and then raised a little. "Charles, Armand, and Geoffroy, let's go inside."

"Do you remember that red-haired woman we met with Rhett in Atlanta? She was poisoned, as Rhett told me," Scarlett whispered to Annabelle's ear.

"I remember her. Is her name Belle Watling? How did it happen?" Annabelle inquired.

"I don't know, darling. Poor Belle and Rhett! I will ask Rhett in details tonight. Let's go," Scarlett murmured mournfully.

Scarlett, Geoffroy, Charles, and Vittorio, the Duke of Naples, were sitting at the table in the ballroom and chatting. Armand wasn't with them, being delayed by his friends outside. They were drinking wine, while Charles has already had two glasses of his favorite lemonade. Annabelle was talking to _Duke Elzéar de Sabran_, in several steps from the table.

"The firework was great," Geoffroy admitted.

"I loved it very much. It fascinated me," Scarlett laughed merely.

"Madam de Bréval, I will make better firework only for you in my palace in Naples if you visit me," Vittorio said, making advances to Scarlett. "You are so beautiful today, Scarlett."

"I agree." Geoffroy finished off his drink. "Scarlett and Annabelle are the most beautiful ladies today."

"Vittorio, I don't know if I can come," Scarlett shrugged. Her eyes flew to Geoffroy's face. She gave a wink to Geoffroy and made her first gulp from the wineglass. She whispered: "Geoffroy, thank you."

"Charles, what is with you?" Geoffroy asked curiously, feeling terrible dryness in his throat.

"I am fine. I am just a little tired." Charles's voice sounded strangled.

"Charles, you aren't standing straight and your face is so pale." Scarlett was anxious.

"I… am… am… fine," Charles pronounced with an effort. He blinked sleepily and sipped more lemonade.

"Hello darlings. How have you been without me?" Annabelle approached the group.

"We are fine," Geoffroy replied. "Do you want wine?"

"Yes, please," Annabelle said simply. "Thank you."

"Like Charles, I feel unwell. I must be tired," Geoffroy assumed. He poured out the third glass of wine and sipped it.

"I feel rather good," Vittorio said. "Maybe, you should leave early, Geoffroy?"

"No, I will be fine," Geoffroy said. "Where is Armand?"

"Armand is with his friends somewhere here," Scarlett declared.

She took the glass of wine and sipped a little. "The wine tastes unusual," Annabelle jabbered. As she sipped again, she again felt heavy, bittersweet taste of liquid and saw light vapor from the glass.

Charles was stuttering, and each word sounded as though forced out from his lips. His hands were shaking, his eyes went wide. He murmured something indistinguishable and fainted on the floor. "Oh, God, my throat… It is… terrible…" Charles sniveled.

"Charles!" Scarlett exclaimed in horror. "What is it with you?"

"Charles!" Geoffroy said, his hands shaking. Then he staggered and also fainted.

"Geoffroy! Charles!" Annabelle cried out.

"Oh God," Vittorio said, shock expressed on his face.

Having realized what happened when her mind traveled back to the time of serving as a lady-in-waiting at the Emperor's court, Annabelle immediately put her wineglass on the table and knocked the glass out of Scarlett's hand in order not to let her drink more. However, she had sipped a little and now felt some dryness, but she knew that antidote would help if the dose was small. Besides, her body was relatively immune to arsenic and cooper sulphate because earlier she used to take a tiny dose of the poison to make her organism resistant and insensitive to the murderous powder.

"What happened? What is wrong with Charles and Geoffroy?" Scarlett murmured.

"Don't drink this wine!" Annabelle instructed in a deep-toned soprano.

"I feel strange dizziness…" Scarlett mumbled. She also felt excessive, terrible dryness in her throat as though she couldn't breathe more.

"How much did you drink?" Annabelle rushed to her friend and shouted at her.

"I sipped… several… times," Scarlett was stammering. Her green eyes flew wide open. "Please… help Charles… Geoffroy…" She fainted.

"What happened?" the Duke of Naples asked solicitously.

"My Lord…" Annabelle mumbled as she checked Charles's pulse on his neck.

"Scarlett, Geoffroy, Charles…" the Duke of Naples stumbled with words. He raised his head and looked at Annabelle with silent question. Other people were standing in shock around them.

"Poisoning! Poisoning!" someone from the guests screamed hysterically.

"Oh my God!" Lord Leicester lamented.

"Good gracious!"

"What happened?"

"This is poisoning!"

"Heaven, help us!"

The crowd started buzzing with gasps and groans. Music in the ballroom was stopped, and the guests rushed to Scarlett's table. Annabelle stared at the vase of lemonade and started to pray. She realized that the dose of poison for Charles should have been deathly. Geoffroy drank more than two glasses of wine, and Annabelle took his hand in her tiny one as though to give to him her farewell gentle squeeze.

"Indeed, this is poisoning. It should be cooper sulphate, some kind of it. It is a strong Italian poison from the Medici's collection. Charles and Geoffroy… I think nothing can help them. Most likely, the dose was deathly," Annabelle said sorrowfully in a trembling voice.

"How much did Scarlett and you drink?" Vittorio stammered, and his eyes were tearing around from Annabelle to Scarlett, Geoffroy, and Charles on the floor.

"Scarlett's dose was not much, I assure you." Nausea and dizziness continued attacking Annabelle. "Goddamned art event! Who did this?"

"Poisoning! Poisoning!"

"Ask somebody to get Scotland Yard here."

"God save us!" somebody whimpered.

"Good Lord Almighty!"

"Poisoning at the art event!"

"How awful!"

"I have never seen poisoning!"

"The Robillard sisters were poisoned!"

"Find his Grace the Duke of Aylesbury," somebody suggested. "He is their relative."

"Find Aylesbury now!"

"Where is he?"

"I saw his Grace the Duke of Aylesbury outside the building. He was with Lord Effingham. "

"Also, find _Count Armand__de Maulevrier_. He also was outside."

"Tell _ash blonde Adonis_ to come here! His brother was poisoned."

"God help us! This is poisoning."

Soon somebody of the guests went outside to find the Duke of Aylesbury and _Count Armand__de Maulevrier_. More and more frightened people were crowding around the place where the poisoning had happened. At the same time, Vittorio and Annabelle were discussing how to proceed further.

"How do you know, Annabelle?" Vittorio asked. Of course, he knew that it was poisoning, having Borgia's blood in his veins. However,

"I was a lady-in-waiting at _Napoleon III's_ court. In 1868, my son and my husband were poisoned. I nearly died from black cooper sulphate," Annabelle enlightened. "I saw lots of such cases in the Palace."

"Did you drink wine?" Vittorio questioned.

"I sipped a little. I will need a doctor. I must be fine in some time - my body is relatively insensitive to poison after my past," she said, her voice cracking.

"I didn't drink wine. It should blue cooper-sulphate. Look at the vapor from the vase of lemonade. Black cooper sulphate doesn't evaporate so quickly," Vittorio said. His eyes were fixed on the wineglass. "I also witnessed many similar cases in Italy."

"What is going on here? I was told that something had happened with Geoffroy," Armand said aggrievedly as he approached them. When his eyes fixed at Geoffroy's body on the floor, he nearly screamed in pain. "What happened? What is going on here?" His face turned absolutely white. With his beautiful ash blonde hair, at that momemt he resembled a ghost from the cemetery. He stepped forward and looked at his brother Geoffroy. "They are unconscious!"

"It is poisoning, Armand," Annabelle said. Her head bent toward her as if she was positively hanging on her every word. "Try not to be downhearted."

"Jesus Christ!" Armand sputtered in shock. He was so distressed that even fear and pain had faded from his face, and it turned snow-white. Only his light green eyes betrayed his feelings. His head began to pound with renewed vigor. He gazed around in numb horror. "How can we help them now?"

"Do you know a doctor in London who can find antidote?" Vittorio asked.

"You must get _Doctor Casimir Louis Victurnien Broussard_," Annabelle half whispered. "Now he is serving as the doctor for the British parliamentarians. Earlier he had been _Napoleon III's_physician. Casimir Broussard followed _Napoleon III_ and his family in their exile in England. Doctor Broussard lives on Upper Brook Street."

Armand slid his eyes closed. "Please, find Aylesbury. He will help us," he suggested.

"Aylesbury will come soon. I asked my secretary Raffaello to find him," Vittorio said.

"They all are alive so far," Annabelle said. She stared blindly at Armand. She felt very bad, her hands and knees were shaking. "But who knows how long they will be alive."

"We must take them to the doctor or to Marguerite's house," Armand offered. His eyes were focused on his brother and Scarlett's bodies. His sensuous mouth was curved into a martyr's grimace.

"I agree," the Duke of Naples nodded.

"Doctor Broussard must come urgently!" Armand implored, his face deathly pale. "Jesus Christ, please get him here!"

"Armand, please calm down. We will do it," Vittorio gave him a sympathetic gaze.

_Duke Elzéar de Sabran_ was on the verge of hysteria. "Get Scotland Yard here right now! Get the doctor here!" he cried out as he approached the place of the poisoning.

The crowd parted to clear a path for the Duke of Aylesbury and the Earl of Effingham. Carelessly at ease in his elegant black and white evening attire and serenely indifferent to the wild attention they were receiving, _Philippe Justin Robillard-Arden, 8th Duke of Aylesbury_, momentarily surveyed the crowd. His gaze swept the staring masses of groaning and lamenting guests, and at last he saw Scarlett on the floor. Vittorio was sitting near her; Armand bent down to Geoffroy; pale Annabelle was sitting in the chair. Philippe inclined his head slightly and started forward. The Earl of Effingham followed him.

"What happened here?" the Duke of Aylesbury asked.

The Duke of Aylesbury and Lord Effingham came to Vittorio, Armand, and Annabelle. Aylesbury and Effingham looked down on the floor where the bodies of unconscious victims were lying. Aylesbury's eyes narrowed, then he leaned toward Scarlett and checked her pulse.

Lord Effingham looked around in surprise. "Devil! What is going on?"

"Oh, your Grace the Duke of Aylesbury and Lord Effingham, you are here!" _Duke Elzéar de Sabran_ said in the encouraged tone.

"We were outside. A man came and reported that something wrong had happened," Effingham said.

"It is poisoning," _Count Armand__de Maulevrier_ informed in an agonized voice.

"I see, Armand," Aylesbury answered calmly. "Your Grace, can your people help us to transport them to the Marchmont Hall?" he questioned, looking at Vittorio.

Vittorio's medium brown eyes locked with Aylesbury's black eyes. "They are on their way here, your Grace," he responded.

"Thank you, your Grace. Was it wine?" Aylesbury's voice slashed out.

"Yes," Annabelle rasped, her grey eyes clouded with dizziness.

Effingham took the vase with lemonade and smelled it. "And lemonade," he added.

"Cooper sulphate," Annabelle clarified.

Philippe stared at Annabelle. "Annabelle, did you drink?"

"Yes," her answer followed.

Aylesbury's penetrating gaze fixed on ash blonde young man - _Count Armand de Maulevrier_. "Armand, did you drink?"

"No. I was outside the building with my friends when it had happened," Armand shook his head and swallowed convulsively.

Aylesbury sighed. "It is blue cooper sulphate," he avouched.

"Yes, it is," Effingham agreed. His tone was nearly mournful. "It is really bad, Philippe."

"From the Medici's collection, Julian. I see that Scarlett hadn't drunk much of this damned wine. We must find Casimir Broussard and oblige him to save her," Philippe whispered quietly in Effingham's ear.

The Earl of Effingham shrugged. "There are also others."

"Julian, now I can think only about Scarlett. I must save her. She will recover if we give her antidote very quickly." Philippe was standing very close to Julian, so that nobody could hear them.

"She will make it through. The dose wasn't huge," Julian murmured.

"Annabelle will be fine because she is more or less immune. She even hadn't fainted so far. Regrettably, I don't think that we will save both Geoffroy and Charles," Aylesbury said very quietly. Something shattered inside of him, splintering his emotions from all rational control. He clenched his fists, his face hardened. He shuddered from the pain in his heart. Pain slashed across his usually unemotional face as his gaze swept over Scarlett. His black eyes fixed on her. He began speaking loudly, his voice raw with anger and hurt. "If something happens with Scarlett, I will kill the poisoner by myself. But I doubt that it will be easy to find the villain." Never had somebody witnessed such controlled, menacing fury from the Duke of Aylesbury's side, nor had anyone ever looked at somebody so with such scathing contempt and anger. And in a single instance he controlled himself. His voice sounded normal – aloof and dispassionate. "We must get Doctor Casimir Broussard as soon as possible."

"For Heaven's sake, please, do something!" Armand raised his voice. "Aylesbury, how can we find this doctor?"

"Armand, my boy, get a hold of yourself. Don't lose your courage," the Duke of Aylesbury warned him gently, placing his arm around Armand's shoulders. "You will need a lot of strength, both physical and emotional, today and in the next days." His voice was steady as he had managed to control himself. "I will find Doctor Casimir Broussard. I promise."

Armand expelled a ragged breath. "Alright." Sternly, determinedly, he fought to bring his rioting panic under control. "My poor brother Geoffroy… and Scarlett… and Charles…"

"Your Grace," three Italian men intoned and bowed gracefully to Vittorio. They came as Vittorio's secretary had ordered them downstairs.

"Ernesto, Adalberto, you must take care of Charles and Geoffroy," the Duke of Naples ordered in a high voice. His tone let everybody know that there was no room for objection. "Francesco, please help the Duke of Aylesbury and Lord Effingham to take both Scarlett and Annabelle into another carriage and then to the destination."

"Yes, your Grace," they replied.

"Effingham and I will take care of Scarlett and Annabelle. However, we will need one more person," Aylesbury announced.

"Naturally, your Grace," Duke Vittorio di Savoia said. "My people are at your disposal."

"Thank you very much, your Grace," Aylesbury replied politely. "Armand, help these people to take care of Geoffroy. We are transporting them all to the Marchmont Hall."

"Yes." Armand said and rushed to Geoffroy. "Oh Geoffroy…"

Aylesbury reached for his hand. "Please, calm down, Armand," he appeased him. "It is going to be fine." He lied to Armand, knowing that his twin brother will most likely die. But what else can he do?

"Thank you, Aylesbury," Armand said, his light green eyes nearly translucent.

"Doctor Broussard can be very busy now," the Duke of Naples supposed gravely. "This doctor is a Parliament's doctor, and most likely he has many deals all the time."

"What will we do in this case?" _Duke Elzéar de Sabran_ shrugged unenthusiastically.

"We will get Doctor Broussard," the Earl of Effingham assured.

"Undoubtedly," Aylesbury's voice cold resonated. Nobody saw how his beautifully gloved fingers were slightly shaking as the anxiety and fear seized him, and he intentionally crossed behind his back.

"Thank you, your Grace and your lordship," _Duke Elzéar de Sabran_ said. His face was as white as the dress of the virgin fiancée.

Aylesbury stared at _Duke Elzéar de Sabran_. "You are welcome, your Grace." Then he turned his head, and his black eyes met Annabelle's grey. "Annabelle, you are feeling unwell after taking some poison, aren't you?"

"Yes." Annabelle nodded in agreement. Lord Effingham was supporting her as dizziness had almost completely overcome her. She closed her eyes, but dizziness made her snap them open again. She concentrated on the weak yellow light from the flickering coach lamps on the nearby table. "I will need a doctor soon."

"I will take care of you, Madame de Robillard," Lord Effingham announced. He swept Annabelle from her feet and took her in his hands.

"We are going to carry them now," Vittorio said. "See you at the Marchmont Hall."

"Thank you, your Grace," Effingham said.

The Duke of Aylesbury was gingerly rubbing his temples. "I will put Scarlett into the carriage. Then I will go to Doctor Broussard's house."

"Thank you, your Grace," the Duke of Naples answered. He ordered: "Francesco, help his Grace the Duke of Aylesbury and Lord Effingham. Armand, let's go."

"I am coming," Armand said. Carlo and he approached Geoffroy in order to carry him outside into the carriage. Armand lifted his eyes to Philippe. "Aylesbury, I will be waiting for you at the Marchmont Hall."

"Armand, I will do everything what I can," Aylesbury assured him.

The Duke of Aylesbury's black eyes met Armand's light green. "I know. I believe you," Armand said sincerely.

"Please, save them!" _Duke Elzéar de Sabran_ invoked. "God, help them! God, bless them!"

"Your Grace, everything that depends on us will be done," the Earl of Effingham declared, looking at _Duke Elzéar de Sabran._

"Please help Scarlett," Annabelle implored in a weak voice. "She should be fine if we use antidote."

"I agree. Her dose doesn't seem to be much," Aylesbury said. As they were talking, he was heading to the exit door with Scarlett in his hands, followed by Lord Effingham and Francesco, one of Vittorio's escorting people. "I will abstain from any predictions relative to Geoffroy and Charles."

At the same time, Vittorio's escorting people had already taken Geoffroy and Charles's bodies in order to transport them to Marguerite's mansion in Mayfair. Armand and Ernesto together were carrying Geoffroy. Charles was carried by Vittorio himself and Adalberto, another Vittorio's escorting man. They were carried to two carriages, which had being standing outside the building and had already been prepared for them.

"I am afraid…" Julian stiffened. The words didn't come from his mouth.

"I know what you want to say. Pray continue, Effingham," Annabelle firmly shook her head in the negative. "I know that Geoffroy and Charles are unlikely to be saved."

"I am sorry, but most likely it is the awful truth," Philippe made a verdict. "I discovered that the dose of cooper sulphate had been huge for both Geoffroy and Charles. I didn't tell Armand about it. Probably, the poison has already paralyzed their spinal cord. Moreover, even being unconscious, now Geoffroy and Charles are likely to be experiencing breathing problems because of the damaged lungs, which couldn't be Scarlett's case. Annabelle, you and Scarlett should be fine over time, especially you, Annabelle, given your body's resistance to poisoning after what had happened with you in the past."

Annabelle was amused. "How do you know so much about the poisoning?"

"I just know. Trust me," the Duke of Aylesbury responded as they reached the carriage.

The Earl of Effingham carefully put Annabelle on the seat inside the carriage and settled himself near her. Aylesbury did the same with unconscious Scarlett. "It is done," Effingham declared.

Aylesbury stared at Francesco. "Can you please assure that these ladies are delivered to Marguerite de Robillard's house - the Marchmont Hall? My friend will give you the address."

"Don't worry, your Grace," Francesco answered. "I will."

"Where are you going, Philippe?" Lord Effingham glazed at Aylesbury as he stepped out of the carriage, back into the street. Two carriages with Geoffroy and Charles had already departed several minutes ago.

"I am going to Doctor Broussard by myself," Aylesbury responded, simultaneously trying to loosen his cravat. "His Grace the Duke of Naples sent somebody to him, but Broussard might be busy and might refuse to come. I will get him by myself."

Effingham nodded. "It is a wise decision because Doctor Casimir might be indeed very busy."

"Julian, please be careful," Aylesbury implored, his face revealing his overall emotional tumult as he looked at his friend.

"I will, Philippe. Don't worry," Effingham pledged. "I will wait for you at the Marchmont Hall," he added.

"Well, it is settled," the Duke of Aylesbury said, half closed his eyes, and turned his head away. "Soon I will return with Casimir Broussard."

"Love and death in one single embrace! Who did this? Damn her or him! Who overheard us in the alcove?" Annabelle thought as the carriage began moving. She fell into abysmal darkness and fathomless oblivion, joining Scarlett, Geoffroy, and Charles in their flagrant swoon.

The Duke of Aylesbury closed the door of the carriage and strolled in the direction of his black perch-phaeton, which was already ready for him. Outside the night was foggy, and a chilly breeze sent Aylesbury's loosened cravat a little fluttering behind. His heart was in his throat, hammering harder and harder with each minute. He jumped into his black sporty phaeton and pulled the reins to make the horses moving. Knowing that only he or somebody of his friends could get the doctor on time, he headed right to the Doctor Broussard's house.

The Duke of Aylesbury only hoped that Doctor Broussard had the antidote to the Medici's cooper sulphate. If it isn't so, Aylesbury would have to take the antidote from the Foreign Office where he worked for many years. He knew that he had to receive the permission of the Minister for Foreign Affairs to take the antidote, but he didn't have time for that. It was possible that if the Duke of Aylebsury took the antidote from the Foreign Office by himself, without any prior consent from the Head of Foreign Office, it could result in many serious problems for him, but he didn't care. He couldn't admit a single thought that Scarlett would die on the back of that monstrous poisoning.


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter 39**

**London: unexpected news for Rhett and the Duke of Aylesbury's visit**

Rhett Butler was happy and felt evenness in his sole when left the building of the National Gallery. Before he left, he had found Silvia and Rosemary in the parlor and told them about his early retirement. This all happened before the tragedy which killed several people. Then Rhett went to _the Great Western Hotel_ at Paddington.

In the evening, Rhett was packing his things in his suite in order to relocate to another hotel to be with Scarlett. Silvia and Rosemary knocked his door and entered the living room of the large suite.

Rosemary was shocked. "Rhett, what are you doing? Are you leaving?"

"You see that I am packing my things. I am going away urgently," Rhett answered shortly and firmly.

"Oh! Rhett, what happened? Don't you like London? What kind of business do you have so late? It is nearly ten in the evening," Silvia spelled out in a sugar voice and grabbed Rhett's hand.

"Silvia, we need to talk seriously. Alternatively, we can meet tomorrow in the restaurant and talk. The subject is the status of our engagement…" Rhett interjected and pulled her hand away.

"What do you mean, Rhett?" Silvia asked.

"I don't understand you, Rhett," Rosemary said.

"I no longer want to continue this game. The performance is over," Rhett bowed Silvia and his sister. "I am sorry, Silvia, but we cannot be married."

"Rhett, darling, what are you saying? How is it possible? Rhett… Rhett…" Silvia stumbled with words.

"I have too much baggage behind. Silvia, you deserve somebody better than me. I want you to be happy with your soul mate whom you will undoubtedly meet one day."

Silvia turned her face away, no doubt quite angry. She was looking away as she was speaking. "Rhett, what are you talking about? I love you, and we will be happy together. You cannot break our engagement!" Then she glanced at him.

Rhett stared at Silvia, his gaze holding hers. "Silvia, I am very sorry. As I said, I want you to be happy. I don't love you," he confessed.

"We have been engaged almost six months. I know you love me. And the scandal…" Silvia said under her breath and looking at Rhett entreatingly.

Rhett sighed as he decided to try to explain to her why they couldn't be married. "It would be unfair to go through the loveless marriage for both of us. This will be hell. I am very sorry." He resumed packing his jack-a-dandy suits and shirts in the trunk.

Silvia started sobbing, loudly and hysterically, on Rosemary's shoulder. "You are going to this French slut, aren't you? You used me and deceived me, Rhett. I love you! How can you do this to me?"

Rosemary stared at Rhett with a hateful gaze. Rosemary was intending to defend her friend Silvia. "Rhett, how can you do this to Silvia? She truly loves you. Your French whore abandoned you and got married to a French aristocrat. She has children with her late husband, a proper noble Marquis, rest to his sole. Rhett, you must think better of your actions or you will regret later, brother."

"She is not a slut. I kindly ask you to use proper expressions and respect Scarlett. I love this woman. I was a great fool when I divorced her," Rhett bawled out sharply.

"Rhett, what are you doing? You will disgrace our family if you break your engagement!"

Rhett cast an unpleasant glance at his sister. "I can break the engagement and I am breaking it."

Rosemary's blue eyes flashed in anger. "Rhett, you have already claimed your son with a whorehouse Madame from Atlanta, and your actions caused a flagrant, unbelievable scandal around our family in Charleston, if not in the whole South. Now you want to ruin us completely, don't you?" Rosemary growled.

"Rosemary, you have already aspersed our relations as brother and sister when you searched through my things and went to Scarlett to Atlanta." Rhett paused to clear his throat. "I haven't forgiven you. My trust in you will always be weak."

Silvia's sobs became more violent, her face was shining with tears. "Rhett, how can you do this to me? Are you a gentleman? You gave a word that you would marry me," she sniffled.

"My dear Silvia, I have never been a gentleman. You should have known this before you agreed to my proposal. When I get back to Charleston, I will call on your mother to give her my most sincere apologies," Rhett tried to smooth the situation.

"Rhett, you think that it will help me revitalize my reputation? You ruined me! Rhett, let's forget what you told me. I love you, my darling," Silvia nearly groaned in a shaking voice through tears.

"Silvia, as I said, I am very sorry, but it will be better for both of us. Eventually, you will understand the reasons and appreciate my decision. Now, ladies, have a nice evening. I will see myself out," Rhett said politely, bowed to two stunned ladies, and left the room.

"Rhett…" Silvia moaned. She bent her head and moaned something unclear. "Damn Scarlett!" she said a little later.

Rosemary approached Silvia and hugged her. "My darling, Silvia.. We will think how to make him come back. I promise that we will decide what to do."

Rhett didn't listen to Silvia's grasps and groans. He had already slammed the door behind him. He headed downstairs and hired the carriage to get from _the Great Western Hotel_ at Paddington to _the Langham Hotel_ in the district of Marylebone on the Langham Place. The carriage stopped, and Rhett stepped down from it in the street. The porter took his luggage, and he entered the hotel lobby. Rhett checked in the free honeymoon suite and with a smile on his face ordered wine, champagne, and lots of food to the room number for Scarlett and him.

Rhett was waiting for Scarlett impatiently. He remembered their short intimate encounter and felt himself as a boy dreaming for the first kiss from a lady. His body was trembling, and his heart was beating faster in the foretaste of Scarlett's arrival. He was dreaming of buying a new wedding ring for her and finally spiritualizing and legalizing their love by new vows in the church.

It was around three in the morning when frustrated Rhett fell asleep. He woke up at midday next day and rushed downstairs to ask the reception manager whether somebody asked for him yesterday. Having received negative answer, Rhett went back to the room number and poured out the glass of his favorite French scotch. He was drinking the whole day and in the evening for the second time asked at reception whether somebody searched for him. Feeling a lovesick fool, Rhett spent in the hotel the next two days waiting for Scarlett to come to him. Finally, he requested the reception manager to send somebody to his room number each three-four hours to report him who asked for him.

"How can you do this to me, Scarlett? I was waiting for you, a green-eyed vixen. You betrayed me in the worst possible way. You always drive me crazy to my insanity, to my utter madness," Rhett thought. He was laughing at himself. "Rhett Butler, you are a renegade and a blackguard, but she is a cleverer blackguard. She played with you and twisted you around her finger."

"I am a fool. Scarlett lied two and a half years ago when she committed to love me forever. She lied during the night of the art event at the National Gallery of London. She probably went directly to the bed of that cursed _Vittorio Amedeo Alberto di Savoia__, the Duke of Naples_... Damn Scarlett! Damn all her promises! Damn the Duke of Naples!"

Thinking that Scarlett had betrayed him, he no longer cared for himself and couldn't feel even misery for his crummy, run-down existence. He was completely broken and resigned to his miserable fate in his mind. Like two and a half years ago, he was dead inside again and felt nothing, except for the desire for his life to follow a the downward spiral, eventually leading to grave. His world was falling apart.

"Damn the day I saw her at Twelve Oaks. Scarlett is my death… Damn you, Scarlett O'Hara! I hope you will rot in hell. I am done with you. Two blackguards cannot be together."

Rhett was going out of his mind for three days when on the fourth day he repeated to himself his favorite lamentation that he was a fool. He rose to his feet from the bed and decided to visit the familiar brothel in Chelsea. Rhett spent three more days in this brothel, drinking himself to stupor and losing huge amount of money in poker. Finally, he was so exhausted that he was unable even to lift a hand to rub his eyes.

At this very luxurious, private, and exclusive establishment, Rhett met his former mistress Giselle whom he used to visit in London on a regular basis in the blockade-running times. As Rhett's anger at Scarlett accumulated to the rim of ability, Rhett managed to overcome his months-long emotional backstop for intimacy with other women. He bedded Giselle on the third night of his carouse in that brothel. He didn't receive any pleasure and didn't give any pleasure to Giselle. Rhett was brutal and rough with that lovely young French girl, but it made no difference to him. His roughness and his wildness with Giselle were a sort of punishment for Scarlett's deception. Nevertheless, he needed somebody to talk to like he was talking with his friend Belle who was now dead, resulting in a great loss for Rhett's mauled soul. After the end of the crazy night with Giselle, when he was completely drunk, she asked him what bothered him. Rhett didn't care with whom he was talking, and, similar to as he shrived to Melanie Wilkes three years ago when she tried to console him after Scarlett's fall from the staircase, he made a confession about what happened with him to Giselle who was a good listener, like his beloved friend Belle Wasting. Being extremely intoxicated, he told her the long and sad story of his life and marriage with Scarlett in details.

"Rhett, honey, please, stop drinking. I have never seen you in such a miserable state," Giselle said sorrowfully and put her long fingers on Rhett's jaw. "Darling, please, calm down. I understand you."

"Giselle, Scarlett used me. She lied to me. Everything she touches is poisoned. She ruined me." Rhett was weeping-ripe, his voice cracking. "I… I loved and I still love her. She didn't come that night. I was waiting for three days in the hotel and then came here… What a fool I am. How could I ever believe her? Especially after she left me in Charleston six months ago and betrayed me now. She punished me too hard."

Giselle tried to console her drunken lover. "Rhett, you love her. You need to find her and talk to her." Her voice was a caressing half murmur.

"I am done with her. Scarlett is a heartless bitch who doesn't know what love is," salt tears of despair were streaming down his face.

"Rhett, my darling, please, calm down," Giselle murmured to her lover.

"She never loved me and always lied to me. I am dead. When I die, I want to be buried with my daughter, near her grave," Rhett poured another glass of whiskey and resumed crying. He didn't know that another twist of fate would hit him harder than ever before.

"Rhett, darling, you mustn't say such things! You are one of the cleverest and the most handsome men I have met in my life. My life is woesome, yours – no! You have done so much good!" Giselle smiled to Rhett and began to stroke tenderly his back.

"Giselle, I am miserable! What do I have? I killed my whole life when I married her," Rhett was done with the second bottle of whiskey and could no longer stand vertically on his feet.

"Where did you see Scarlett last time? Maybe, something happened with her? You should find her. You don't need this drunken lunacy," Giselle inquired interrogatively.

"I met her at the well-known art event at the National Gallery at Trafalgar Square. I left her and we agreed to meet later in the hotel. I told you what happened after…" Rhett babbled.

"Was it an art event at the National Gallery? My God!" Giselle clapped her hands.

"What happened, Giselle?"

"What is Scarlett's full name?" Giselle was apparently shocked.

"Why are you asking? Her name in the United States was _Scarlett O'Hara Hamilton Kennedy Butler_," Rhett whispered and drank the whole glass at one gulp.

"There was a tragedy at this event. All the newspapers headlines on the front pages were screaming about it… I mean… her name in Europe…. Because you told me that she was married to a noble French gentleman," Giselle asked, took rise from the bed, and approached the bed table. She took the latest newspaper in her hands.

"_Catherine Scarlett Athénaïs de Robillard de Bréveaux, Marquise de Bréval_," Rhett muttered quietly. "I finally learnt this goddamned long name."

"Oh, God, I am so sorry. You didn't know what happened there. She seems to be dead... Look here," Giselle clapped her hands in sorrow and gave Rhett the newspaper. "Robillards and several other people are mentioned in the story."

Rhett raised his head in shock and looked at Giselle with dull and vacant eyes. He took newspaper from her shaking hands and started to read the article on the first page.

_A MURDER ON THE ART EVENT AT THE NATIONAL GALLERY_

_So far Scotland Yard has failed to find any clue to what happened six days ago on the art exhibition and successive ball at the National Gallery of London when several people were killed at the end of the ball. It is likely that murder or murders won't be arrested._

_We remind you that several people were poisoned by the deathly poison of unknown origin during the annual art event in London. All the people were from well-known noble houses and come from the high society of France. The list of the victims includes:_

_Geoffroy __Louis Victor d'Aubusson de La Feuillade, the heir apparent to 9th Duke de Roannais and 11th Marquis de Boisy_

_Charles Louis Nicolas de Harlay de Champvallon, 14th Marquis de Bréval_

_Catherine Scarlett Athénaïs de Robillard de Bréveaux, Marquise de Bréval_

_Annabelle Françoise Julienne de Robillard de Bréveaux, Countess de Morville_

_The death of all the victims occurred very quickly due to high intoxication of their bodies by poison._

_We ask all the relatives and friends to accept our sincere and deepest condolences for the great loss._

While Rhett still was in the brothel in Chelsea with Giselle, a remarkable phaeton stopped near the Marchmont Hall in Mayfair. It was the most spectacular phaeton - the English four-wheeled high flyer, the body of which consisted of a light seat for two, resting atop two sets of springs and reached by ladder. It was an extravagant, flaunting, risky vehicle. A gentleman passed the reins to his groom and stepped off the phaeton out into the street.

At the same time, a gentleman arrived at the Marchmont Hall to learn how the victims of the recent poisoning were feeling under excellent care and protection provided by infamous _Doctor Casimir Louis Victurnien Broussard_. He was a handsome black-eyed gentleman, with jet-black hair, almost matching his eyes. He looked very much magnificent and unapproachable in his blue velvet jacket, dark blue trousers, black shirt, and elegantly gloved hands. He was very handsome, and it was evident from the first sight that he had been popular among many women in the ton of London and among the European beau monde. He was _Philippe Justin Robillard-Arden, 8th Duke of Aylesbury_, one of the most powerful and the richest people in Great Britain.

The Ardens as a noble family can trace their lineage pretty well back to the Anglo-Saxon times. The Ardens family's roots are among the untitled nobility, so-called landed gentry that included rich landowners, knights and baronets, who were the members of the British aristocracy that didn't hold peerages. _1st_ _Marquess of Aylesbury_ was created in the peerage of England in 1567. _Jacob Richard Arden, 1st Marquess of Aylesbury, _secured his title through "_holding the office,_" or through the service of the Ardens in various government offices. He was not only a well-known diplomat, but also a famous seaman and a navigator. Jacob accompanied _Sir Francis Drake, Vice Admiral of the Elizabeth I's _era, in the expedition of the English fleet against _the Spanish Armada_ in 1588. Jacob's glory as a fearless sailor predetermined that the Duke of Aylesbury's coat of arms became a golden shield with a golden-silver lined ship on a sea of six wavy, gold and silver stripes; at both ends of the ship, two ravens, each pointing to the center of the shield.

Later, in the middle of the 17th century, the title of _1st Duke of Aylesbury_ was established in the same peerage with a subsidiary title of _the Marquess of Wycombe_, secured by the eldest male heir for the title of the Duke, usually the Duke's eldest son. Therefore, the Ardens were old English aristocrats, with the blood of both titled and untitled nobles.

The Duke of Aylesbury owned vast area of land in _Aylesbury Valley_ in Buckinghamshire, while the Marquess of Wycombe was considered to be the landlord of _Wycombe_, also in Buckinghamshire. Aylesbury Valley and Wycombe had some common borders, and the whole area was under the formal control of the Duke of Aylesbury with control of Wycombe transferred to the Marquess of Wycombe. Wycombe was thrice smaller than _Aylesbury Valley_. The Aylesbury Manor was located in Aylesbury Valley in Buckinghamshire and was Aylesbury's family most important, favorite estate. The Arden family also owned several other estates, including two estates in Cornwall; one estate in each of Dorset, Kent, Northumberland, Norfolk, Somerset, Oxfordshire, and East Sussex; the former Baron Alvanley's estate in Cheshire; one estate in each of East Lothian, Orkney Islands, and Midlothian in Scotland; one estate in Meath in Ireland.

The family owned two houses in London, including the Arden Hall on _Berkeley Square_ in Mayfair and the Robillard-Arden Hall on _Belgrave Square_in Belgravia; one house in Paris on _Rue des Tournelles_; one house in Vienna on _Herrengasse_ or "_Lords' Street_"; a chateau in _Tours-sur-Marne_ in _Champagne_, and a chateau near _Cannes_and near _Toulouse_ in the South of France, as well as a house in Colombo in Ceylon and a grand mansion in Calcutta, the capital of British India.

In 1876, the Robillard-Ardens owned sixteen estates in total in various part of Great Britain. Once the Duke of Aylesbury officially declared that he had won nearly half of his estates at the card table and later, together with his business associates, made them profitable over the years. Such a practice wasn't something unusual for the Duke of Aylesbury because he was famous in Europe for his devilishly excellent skills at the card table. Two estates in Buckinghamshire - the Aylesbury Manor in _Aylesbury Valley_ and the Wycombe estate in _Wycombe_, the Robillard-Arden Hall in Belgravia in London; the Arden Hall in Mayfair in London; one estate in each of Cornwall, Kent, East Sussex, and Norfolk in England and one estate in Midlothian in Scotland, were included in the majorat for the heir to the Duke of Aylesbury. The rest of the estates and houses could be inherited either by the heir to the title of the Duke of Aylebsury or by any other family member.

There was another line of getting nobility for the Ardens: the Ardens also received the titled nobility at the beginning of the 19th century when _Richard Kenneth Arden_ became _1st Baron of Alvanley_. _William David Arden, 2nd Baron of Alvanley,_ was an infamous Lord Alvanley in Regency England - a Regency buck, a member of the Prince Regent's circle, and a member of the famous "_Dandy Club_" that also included Beau Brummell, Henry Mildmay, and Henry Pierrepoint. So that the new representatives of the Aylesbury house from the Ardens were related to barons of Alvanley. The title of the Baron of Alvanley turned extinct in the middle of the 19th century.

From 1770 to 1810, three young Dukes died. In 1810, twelve-year-old _Jordan Theodore Arden _became _7th Duke of Aylesbury._He married in 1828, and in 1831 his wife died in childbirth, while the child - a small girl _Georgette Anne Arden_ - managed to survive, despite all the forecasts of the doctors. Later Jordan never remarried and devoted his life to his daughter and to the advantages of being an unmarried man. Later, after Jordan's death in 1855, the title was granted to the son of his brother _Richard Russell Arden_ who had died earlier, in 1850, so that _Philippe Justin Robillard-Arden_ became _8th Duke of Aylesbury_. Philippe was married to his first cousin _Georgette Anne Arden_.

The young Duke of Aylesbury's next action was that the family surname had been modified from _Arden_ to a double-barrelled surname - _Robillard-Arden_. Philippe as the new Duke wanted to underscore that there was blood of the French Robillards in the veins of the young descendants of the Arden family. The change of the family surname was easily approved by _Henry John Temple, 3rd Viscount Palmerston_, who was the British Prime Minister at that time, and later by _Queen Victoria_. Therefore, in 1855 the Arden noble house transformed to the Robillard-Arden noble house, thus having its roots among the best old English nobles and the best old French aristocracy.

There was time when the Aylesbury house had only down-and-out estates and huge unpaid debt. The trouble was caused by huge spending habits of the Dukes of Aylesbury, especially by _Jordan Theodore Arden_, _7th Duke of Aylesbury, _who was Lord Alvanley's friend and who copied his unlimited spending behavior. Not only the Ardens from the Aylesbury house, but also the Ardens from the Alvanley house experienced money troubles. The result was that, with _Queen Victoria's_ permission to sell estates and land from the majorat of the Arden family, several family estates had finally been sold to pay off their debts. Even the Arden Hall – the family's mansion in London – was sold at the auction in 1835. The family continued to live in London, renting at first an expensive flat in Hanover Square and later, by the middle of 1840s, rather average flat as the situation had worsened.

In 1845, everybody in the ton of England anticipated that _Jordan Theodore Arden_, _7th Duke of Aylesbury_, would end up in the debt prison. Then unexpectedly the Ardens paid off all the debt for both the Aylesbury house and the Alvanley house and purchased back their family mansion – the Arden Hall on Berkshire Square. Approximately at the same time young Philippe arrived in London from France and married to his cousin Georgette, the daughter of the troublesome Jordan Arden, 7th Duke of Aylesbury. The official explanation was that young Philippe, who had been raised in the close boarding school in France, inherited money from their distant French relatives and thus redeemed all the debt created mainly by his wife's father. Later Philippe bought back all the former estates of the Ardens in England, as well as many other estates not previously owned by the family.

Philippe's money solved all the problems of the Ardens. Later Robillard-Arden's fortune increased considerably, which was the result of Philippe's successful business operations in Asia and in some of British colonies, especially in India, Ceylon, Burma, and Balochistan where Philippe had spent much time. Nobody knew where the Duke of Aylesbury had found money to start the business operations in Southern Asia. The official explanation was again inheritance from distant French relatives and further profitable investments. In was known that in 1847 Aylesbury had bought a sizable stake in the East India Company that traded mainly in cotton, silk, indigo dye, salt, tea and opium. Finally, he had sold this stake in 1856, almost before the company's official dissolution in 1858 following the rebellion of 1857 when the British Crown assumed direct control of the territories and treaty arrangements of the former East India Company, forming the historically known "_British Raj._" There were rumors that this investment had brought to Philippe tremendous fortune – around one million five hundred thousand pounds. Other gossips were that Philippe Robillard-Arden had made a vast fortune on the speculations by importing opium from India and selling it in China where the demand for opium had skyrocketed after the practice of mixing opium with tobacco for smoking had been introduced into China by Europeans. The profits from these speculations were tremendous, but decreased considerably in the end of _the Second Opium_ _War_ of 1856-1860.

By 1860, Philippe Robillard-Arden and his family turned into one of the richest families in Britain. As of 1876, the Duke of Aylesbury owned a large shipment company in England; stakes in several English banks, a major stake in the Laurent-Perrier Group – champagne house in France based in _Tours-sur-Marne_ in _Champagne_, and major stakes in several trading company operating in the Middle East, Burma, and Ceylon. He also totally owned one of the major private trading companies in India. All these investments in trading companies in Southern Asia resulted in significant influence on export-import operations in British India.

There were numerous legends about the Duke of Aylesbury, an infamous person in the ton of England and the European high society in general. He was known as a man with rich, adventurous experience as he worked and traveled in Europe, Middle East, and Southern Asia for many years, sometimes taking his wife and the children with him. Officially the Duke of Aylesbury served as the special ambassador of the British Crown in British India, so that he often had to travel to British India, Upper and Lower Burma, Ceylon, Balochistan, and other places in Southeast Asia. It was well-known that Aylesbury worked arm-in-arm with his close friends _Julian St John Lessard, 13th Earl of Effingham_, and _Ian Colin Murray, 9th Duke of Lauderdale_, who also served as special ambassadors of the British Crown during the time of "_British Raj._"

There were years when nobody saw the Duke of Aylesbury in London. Later he could suddenly reappear, reuniting with his family. However, in the past several years, starting from 1870, he tended to spend much time in England and France with his French relatives, as he explained. His businesses were effectively managed by employed business associates, but he always administered and supervised all the deals by himself. In the past years, Aylesbury's life was marked by much better correct regularity than earlier when he had traveled extensively. During the traditional London season he remained in the society at the balls or parties every night till one-two in the morning and was usually off to White's thereafter till three-four in the morning. He was always at home from nine in the morning till two in the afternoon, working in his study room and meeting with his business associates. Then he drove and paid calls to his friends and acquaintances or visited gentlemen clubs till six-seven in the afternoon. Then he went home to change for evening attire and later left for balls and parties in his elegant perch-phaeton with the finest horses in Britain.

The Duke of Aylebsury was very French in his mind and in his behavior. He often spoke French instead of English, and he was talking in French as though he had been born in France. If he spoke English, he often included French statements and aphorisms in the conversation. He also often quoted various French authors and French philosophers. He was known as a connoisseur of French art and a connoisseur of French wines. Even his dressing attire was partly French as he loved extravagant, aristocratic shirts with massive lace wristbands and frills, and he didn't care that it wasn't the part of simple, strict Victorian fashion. His eldest son Jasper and at times his second son Morgan were making the same in fashion trends. It was well-known in the ton that during a private card party at _Prince Albert Edward's_ residence the Duke of Aylebsury had openly recognized the fact that he would most likely choose a French woman as his mistress than an English woman.

The Duke of Aylesbury was rarely seen in the company of people from the Unites States. Somebody could even think that Aylesbury intentionally avoided old American acquaintances. He preferred to communicate with the representatives of old English high aristocracy and newly affluent people. He had a lot of friends from France, Italy, and Germany, but was known by his strong preference for English and French social elite society and special love to French friends and acquaintances. When somebody from the beau monde waved him a greeting, he responded with a bow, polite enough to avert annoyance, but at times with a sort of contempt, however, elegant contempt, and thus he was always able to get rid of persons whom he would rather never have known.

The Duke of Aylesbury's wife _Georgette Anne Robillard-Arden, the Duchess of Aylesbury, _was a lady who was widely known in London for her indiscreet, sybarite private life and countless love affairs with aristocrats and nouveau riches. Georgette was a very slim, quite tall woman with light blue eyes and dark brown long hair. Her pale alabaster skin stressed the undeniably beauty and softness of her face. Georgette looked feminine, very attractive, even very feminine, and she had always wanted to attract attention and admiration to her personality. She had proclaimed to be a remarkably beautiful girl in her early youth, and nothing had changed even in her middle ages as Georgette turned forty six years old in 1876. She didn't look at her real age: visibly she was much younger, between thirty five and forty years old. She was also an epitome of extravagant fashion and was always dressed expensively and pretentiously. Although the Duchess of Aylesbury was pure English by blood, her life and her manners resembled to be like those of French women who traditionally were much more self-indulgent in terms of manners than classical English ladies.

Given the Duchess of Aylesbury's Corinthian and scandalous lifestyle, many ladies in the ton of England, as well as the European beau monde, sincerely sympathized to the Duke of Aylesbury, as having such a terribly unfaithful wife was indeed unbearable and scandalous. Indeed, it should have been painful for any rational, respectable man when his wife had numerous love affairs with many other noblemen and even commoners right in front of her husband. Many noblemen and noblewomen were shocked with her behavior, especially modest English ladies of Victorian England with its high norms of moral, its general trend to sexual restraint, its low tolerance of crime, and its strict social code of conduct. In contrast to the society ideas, the Duchess of Aylebsury had always been on the opposite pole of the society – on the pole of moral decadence and sybarite life. She was more a lady of Georgian period: Georgian men and women not only had a robust attitude towards intimacy and enjoyed it, but also positively relished breaking the rules set by their puritan forebears.

In the meantime, the Duke of Aylesbury also wasn't the pattern of a faithful husband, as he could have kept simultaneously several mistresses in one city and openly visited whorehouses if he wanted to do that, although he did that rather rare. It was well-known that Aylebsury preferred keeping private mistresses. Aylesbury often spent years out of London, and some people thought that the Duchess of Aylesbury felt very lonely in London.

What was very unusual for everybody was the fact that the Duke of Aylesbury seemed not to be interested in his wife's life. In the ton, he always treated the Duchess of Aylesbury politely and with his great French courtesy, but with evident indifference and coldness. Georgette was beautiful, provoking, and seductive, and the fact that her own husband disregarded his wife's gorgeous, stunning appearance was uncommon and unbelievable for many people of the ton. Some people even questioned why they had married so many years ago because people of their age remembered that there had never been any peace and harmony in their relations.

In general, even despite the flamboyant, scandalous life, the ton of England treated the Duchess of Aylesbury patiently and tolerated her extravagant escapades. Despite all the scandals associated mainly with the Duchess of Aylesbury, the Robillard-Ardens were accepted everywhere in the ton of England and in the European high society, which could be explained the great fortune of the family, their old nobility, and the Duke of Aylesbury's high status in the society, including his numerous connections with the members of the British Parliament and other government officials. Everybody in the society accepted the Duke and the Duchess of Aylesbury, especially given that _Queen Victoria_, her son _Prince_ _Albert Edward, Prince of Wales_, and other members of the British royal family, as well as _Benjamin Disraeli, the British Prime Minister and 1st Earl of Beaconsfield_, were benevolent to the Duke of Aylesbury and to the Robillard-Ardens.

The Duke of Aylesbury and the Duchess of Aylesbury were living completely independent lives. Only their six children tied them to each other – Madeleine, Jasper, Morgan, Christopher, Jacob, and Genevieve. The children were always polite with their mother in public. However, it seemed that Georgette had her only favorite among all her children – her youngest son Jacob who was the most arrogant among the young Robillard-Ardens. And it was truth. In reality, Georgette disliked her eldest sons Jasper and Morgan because their appearance was very similar to their father's appearance, while Jasper's character was very similar to that of his father. At times, her personal dislike of her eldest sons was evident even for the nobles of the ton, and they guessed why it was so.

The Duke of Aylesbury's wife and their children have had _Robillard-Arden_ surname instead of _Arden_ starting from 1855 when Philippe became _8th Duke of Aylesbury_ and changed the family surname. Georgette hated the fact of surname modification, but she had to obey to her husband. It was as though the Duke of Aylebsury had wanted to disregard everything from the Ardens heritage and make everything similar to that of the Robillards.

The Duke and the Duchess of Aylesbury had a pure convenient marriage and accepted it as a due fact. It was known that they even didn't live together for many years. The Duke of Aylesbury lived in his own house - the Robillard-Arden Hall on _Belgrave Square_ in Belgravia, while his wife resided at the Arden Hall on _Berkley Square_ in Mayfair. Many people thought that these Arden cousins had married each other rather young – Georgette was fifteen and Philippe was sixteen – and counted this as the real reason for their extremely unsuccessful marriage. In the meantime, marriages without love, convenient marriages, were so traditional at that time that the ton of England and the high society of Europe looked through fingers at the dissolute behavior of the spouses. Therefore, Philippe and Georgette's matrimony wasn't an exception in this trend.

In contrast to the life of his wife, the Duke of Aylesbury's lifestyle wasn't so scandalous. It was true that he had many mistresses, but he preferred strict privacy in his personal life, although there were anyway many rumors around his private life. The really scandalous and very eccentric things were Aylesbury's horse races in his high sporty perch-phaeton in the areas of both Mayfair and Belgravia in central London. It happened regularly, year by year, and many nobles, who lived in that area, were accustomed to Aylesbury's phaeton passing their houses at a wild speed in the nighttime or in the late afternoon. Another very memorable thing about the Duke of Aylebsury was his extravagant horse race at a full speed along _Avenue des Champs-Élysées_ in Paris in the nighttime. It happened in 1860 after one of the private parties when they were very drunk. He was accompanied by his friends - the Duke of Lauderdale, _Duke François de Mortemart_, and _Marquis César de La Tour-Maubourg._ Lauderdale was in the same phaeton with Aylesbury, while their friends occupied the second perch-phaeton. Two phaetons were competing with each other. They were singing one of the favorite songs of _Kind Louis XIV_ and glorified France of the 17th-18th centuries. After that horse race, the whole Paris was buzzing with rumors about that four people who were so eccentric that they made such an unprecedented horse race. It was the only time when the Duke of Aylebsury was seen very drunk in public as in other cases he usually was very sober and didn't overindulge himself with alcohol.

The Duke of Aylesbury knocked at the front door. A doorkeeper opened the door, and Aylesbury entered the house. He immediately asked about the health of the recent victims of poisoning. As he was told that his Grace _Vittorio Amedeo Alberto di Savoia, the Duke of Naples_, had arrived an hour earlier, the Duke of Aylesbury demanded to have the audience with the Duke of Naples. Soon Aylesbury was waiting for the Duke of Naples in the small reception room, located close to the grand living room and near the exit to the garden.

_Duke Vittorio Amedeo di Savoia_ entered the room. "Good afternoon, your Grace. What a surprise to see you here today!" He bowed politely.

"Good afternoon, your Grace," the Duke of Aylesbury replied. He also bowed in response. "How are Madame Scarlett and Madame Annabelle today? What does Doctor Broussard say?"

"Scarlett is in the same state, while Annabelle is still weak but feels much better. Thank you for asking, your Grace," Duke Vittorio di Savoia answered.

Aylesbury's cold eyes swept over his companion. "I am glad to hear that Madame Annabelle feels better. Please let me know if any shifts in Madame Scarlett's state happen," he demanded. Although he asked about Scarlett and Annabelle's health, he seemed to be uninterested and completely unemotional.

"Of course, I will do it," the Duke of Naples said, his eyes focused on Aylesbury's face with interest.

"Thank you very much, your Grace."

"Your Grace, I want to thank you very much that you helped me to get Doctor Broussard at the night of the poisoning. If it wasn't for you, this mighty estimable doctor of the British Parliament would never be discharged from his duties."

"Always welcome," Aylesbury said and smiled cryptically. "Are you acting in accordance with the Scotland Yard's instructions?"

"Yes, I am. Everything is going in accordance with the agreed plan," the Duke of Naples replied. "I truly hope that it will help to discover the villain."

The Duke of Aylesbury's confident was calm and confident. "I am not sure that it will work. I suspect that the murderer has already left London and, perhaps, even the country."

"It is very likely."

"How is Marguerite? Has she cried?" Philippe questioned, knowing that it was dangerous to keep so much grief bottled up inside.

"No, she hasn't. Women of her station and constitution don't indulge in weeping, especially Marguerite," the Duke of Naples objected with a dry, curved smile. "She is always somewhere between Scarlett and Annabelle's rooms."

"She is very strong, but she may also break. Try to cheer her up," Aylesbury said, a deep stirring of compassion creeping in his voice.

The Duke of Naples cast a glance at Aylesbury. "Certainly."

"It is good that Marguerite's son, the Earl of Marchmont, managed to arrive quickly from Oxford. He can help Marguerite."

"Yes, it is so," the Duke of Naples nodded.

"Your Grace, please don't talk to her about _Marquis Geoffroy de Boisy_ and _Marquis Charles de Bréval_."

"Poor Geoffroy and Charles! Nobody could have imagined something life that a week ago! At first Monsieur Mathieu de Bréval died, now his son died…" the Duke of Naples paused. "I am happy that at least Geoffroy's brother Armand is alive."

"It is a dreadful tragedy. Armand is alive because he was not with them in the ballroom. He was talking to some of his friends and didn't drink the poisoned wine."

"Thanks God, _Count Armand de Maulevrier_ was lucky," the Duke of Naples declared sympathetically.

"Yes, he was," Aylesbury paused momentarily. He sighed heavily. "All of Geoffroy and Charles's relatives in Paris are in monstrous grief now," the Duke said calmly. However, his coal eyes hardened, becoming completely impenetrable.

"Your Grace, I know that you are the Robillards' close relative. Please accept my own condolences and give the same to your relatives in Paris," the Duke of Naples asked.

"Thank you very much. I will undoubtedly do it," the Duke of Aylesbury said in his baritone voice, rich and compelling. "I cannot always stay at Marguerite's. Moreover, I am going to Paris tomorrow, although I have just got back from there after the funeral. The situation in the Robillard family requires my immediate departure. May I please ask you to take care of everything here, your Grace?"

"I will take care of everything, your Grace. Don't worry," the Duke of Naples assured. His fingers trembled slightly as he stared into Philippe's black eyes of hard steel, any combination of emotions as though foreign to them. What a passionless devil this man was, Vittorio thought. He wondered how Aylesbury had managed to demonstrate calmness in such a terrible situation.

"Your help is greatly appreciated, your Grace," the Duke of Aylesbury replied in a milk-and-water tone. "Thank you very much."

* * *

_The history of the Robillard-Ardens is given in the line of the general orientation of the story on the real historical background. Please take into account that the Duke of Aylebsury had never existed in reality. However, there was the Marquess of Aylebsury, and this title is still extant. However, the family holding the title of the Marquess of Aylebsury had and has another surname. Therefore, it is fine to use such a combination for this story – the surname of Robillard-Arden and the title of the Duke of Aylesbury._

_The history of the Aylebsury noble house is given in accordance with real historical perspectives and amid real historical background. The same was with the history of the Robillard noble house, whose title of Count de Breveaux turned in France extinct in the end of the 18th century._

_All the historical facts about British Asia are correct. It is also true that many people made great fortune on speculations with opium._

_What about Scarlett? Wait and you will have Scarlett. Be patient, my dear readers. _

_Reviews are always appreciated. Thank you very much._


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40**

**_"__It is your hell, insane hell, it is your hell, Dante's inferno"_ **

Rhett stopped reading, raised his head with an expression of utter horror on his tired face. He couldn't believe in what she had just learnt from the newspaper. Rhett moaned something unclear, and his eyes slid shut and then flung open. He blinked several times and stared ahead. The air around was very heavy and suffocating, and he couldn't breathe. He drew a deep breath and held it for a long, long time. For an instance, he was somewhere else, not in that room with Giselle. He should certainly have been alarmed, at least, to awaken to find himself where he was, but he couldn't. he didn't understand the reality. His brain refused to understand it.

Rhett's black eyes turned absolutely blank in disbelief. "It is impossible! No! No! No!" he finally moaned. He rubbed his temples and closed his eyes, his hands cupping his face. "No! It is impossible!" he repeated. Then he shook his head in complete disbelief.

Giselle approached him. "Do you know her address in London? You must check whether the newspapers reported the truth."

"I know that she was staying somewhere in Mayfair at her relatives' mansion. I have no other clue where she lived," Rhett mumbled, poured a glass of scotch, and tossed it in his throat. An orb of a tear stole down his cheek.

"Perhaps, somebody of her friends or your friends knows the address," Giselle asked.

"_Thomas Sidney Martelon, 10th Earl of Leicester_, might know the address. He lives at the Leicester Hall on _Clifford Street_ in Mayfair." Rhett's voice unsteady, his eyes blubbered from scalding tears.

"I will try to find him, Rhett," she said shortly. She headed to the door.

Rhett even didn't look at her. "Thank you, Giselle."

Giselle paused, studying him, candlelight giving warmth to her cheeks. "Welcome, Rhett." Then she left the room.

Determined to help Rhett, who used to keep her as his mistress many years ago, Giselle headed to the Leicester Hall on _Clifford Street_ in Mayfair and without any difficulty found Lord Leicester. Being one of the greatest scandalmongers in French and English aristocratic Europe, _Thomas Sidney Martelon, 10th Earl of Leicester_, had already known what happened during the ball at the National Gallery. Giselle introduced herself as Rhett Butler's cousin in order to adhere to decency and explained that Rhett couldn't find his former wife, but, unfortunately, he couldn't come by himself, being confined to bed in deep sorrow after the article in newspaper that his former wife had passed away. Interested in what happened between Scarlett and Rhett in order to have more precious material for gossiping, Lord Leicester talked to Giselle willingly and told her the whole story what happened on the ball. He also gave her the address of the Marchmont Hall - Marguerite's grand mansion in Mayfair where Scarlett was staying before her death. Delighted with having what she wanted, Giselle left the hotel and returned to her brothel. She found Rhett even more drunken that before she left. Next morning Giselle told Rhett what happened and gave him the sacramental address.

Giselle didn't tell Rhett Lord Leicester's words that Scarlett was indeed dead. She decided that it would be better for Rhett to know the truth from somebody else other than her. In his hangover, Rhett had to put great force to get dressed with Giselle's help and go to Marguerite's mansion in Mayfair. Subconsciously, he hoped that it was a mistake and Scarlett was alive. He dreamed that it was just a bad dream that would never transform to the real-life nightmare. He wished to wake up and see Scarlett's beautiful green eyes, her raven-hair, the object of his adoration for many years, her tiny hands, and be able to kiss her in her lips. However, his inner guesstimate prompted him that it should have been a real ghastly dream if all the newspapers in London were blowing the scandal from this event. Rhett needed to come and ask what had happened with Scarlett.

Rhett came to the Marchmont Hall, the grand red mansion in the Neo-Romanesque Style in Mayfair. He rang the doorbell. The maid dressed in black opened the door quickly. Rhett entered the mansion. Inside the house was dark and silent, like cemetery with only dead spirits and their ghosts living there. The maid greeted him and invited him at first to go to the parlor. As they came there, his gaze immediately registered numerous baskets of flowers and funeral wreaths spread across the wooden floor covered by the grey Aubusson carpet. His heart started hampering and collapsed in pain upon the realization what had probably happened.

Rhett looked with intensity at the maid and silently asked her whether somebody died. The young girl's face transformed from grieved to tearful, and she put her hands on her red cheeks and then fringed her hands up. Rhett conceived the reality without any spoken words, and a tear stole down his tanned hollow cheek. Rhett's breath was taken away. For a minute he stood frozen and speechless, while the girl was talking, her grasps and groans flooding the room. His mind fixed only one fact from her whisperings – the fact that the house was in mourning. Then the maid invited Rhett to go to the study room. He silently obeyed and followed her.

As they were passing the dark grand hall and several more rooms, Rhett noticed that the interior of the mansion, made in the same cold and strict Neo-Romanesque style as the exterior of the building, excellently supplemented the general mourning atmosphere in the house: the white or the grey walls, the simple furniture made of dark oak, the high spherical ceilings, especially in the grand hall, and the general austerity in all decorations. Had there been more light in the house, the Neo-Romanesque interior would bring back an era of romance, where knights in shining armor rode off to battle and poets and bards expounded the virtues of fair and gracious ladies. But darkness or semidarkness was everywhere. In some rooms they were passing it was so dark that if somebody came there without a single candle, he or she could simply lose footing and fall in a dead faint.

As they reached the study room, the maid lit several candles, but the room was still in semidarkness. Then she retired, and Rhett was left alone in his thoughts. He settled in an oak wooden chair with back and arm rests and shut his eyes. He was waiting. He sighed and opened his eyes. His gaze swung to the wall with the attributes of chivalrous times – spears, javelins, shields, helmets, chain armors, and escutcheons with the Marchmont family's coat of arms. Rhett smiled bitterly because the topic of chivalrous times in the room was a perfect appendage to his own mood: he felt as though he could take a spear or a javelin and lance himself right in his heart. A sonorous voice with Italian accent returned Rhett to reality. He quickly raised his head and saw a tall man of Italian appearance. He remembered that this man was the Duke of Naples whom he met during the art event at the National Gallery.

"Good afternoon, if it may be good," the Duke of Naples. He bowed to Rhett. "How can I help you, sir?" he asked in a ceremonious manner. "My name is _Vittorio Amedeo Alberto di Savoia, the Duke of Naples_."

"Good afternoon, your Grace," Rhett began. He also bowed. "I remember you from that goddammed ball in the gallery. You were with Madame de Robillard and Madame de Bréval," Rhett said in a official, low voice that betrayed his sadness. "My name is Rhett Butler."

"Monsieur Butler," the Duke of Naples addressed to Rhett in a ceremonious manner, "I also remember you. You talked to Scarlett during the art event at the National Gallery."

Rhett nodded. "Yes."

"What can I do for you, sir?" Vittorio questioned.

By a finger's breadth, with a great effort Rhett got his tongue around the demonically painful, exterminative words. "Scarlett… Is it… true that… she… died… a week ago?"

"Yes, sir, it is true. Both Annabelle and Scarlett are dead," the Duke of Naples paused. He sighed heavily and then went on. "Scarlett's stepson and another young Robillard are also dead. We are all in chasmal mourning, Monsieur Butler." The Duke looked away from Rhett. He couldn't look into Rhett's eyes. Vittorio knew that Rhett Butler was Scarlett's former husband and had his own selfish intimate desires relative Scarlett.

"The funeral… did it already… take place?" Rhett pronounced with a great will power.

"Yes, it did, Monsieur Butler," Vittorio supplied. "_Countess Annabelle de Morville_ and _Marquise Scarlett de Bréval_, as well as _Marquis Geoffroy de Boisy_ and _Marquis Charles de Bréval_ were buried yesterday at _Père Lachaise Cemetery_ in Paris in the family mausoleum of the Robillard and Bréval families." Vittorio didn't look at Rhett. "I am sorry, but I cannot help you see them."

Rhett lowered his gaze. His heart swelled with pain. "I understand that you cannot help me."

"It is a tragedy." Vittorio's voice sounded as a cold, metallic verdict.

"Death… again death… So much blood…" Rhett whispered.

The Duke of Naples continued staring ahead, at the window. "Scarlett didn't want you to visit her grave because she wanted you to remember her as she was alive, in her beauty and charm."

"How do you know about what she… wanted me to do?" Rhett was shocked and stumbled with words.

"Monsieur Butler, her last words were about you. She said that she loved you and wanted you to remember her alive. Her maid was with her when she died. She said so"

"What? What?" Rhett couldn't believe in what he had just heard.

"Scarlett also left a note for you. Her maid wrote it instead of her for you, and Scarlett simply signed it. She was too weak to write it by herself… Take it, sir," the Duke said firmly, again not looking at Rhett.

"Thank you, your Grace." Rhett took the note from Vittorio's hands and unfolded it. The more he was reading, the more death-pale his face was becoming. The signature in the end of the letter was Scarlett's, as Rhett immediately recognized her beautiful handwriting.

_My darling Rhett,_

_I love you so much. Now when I am dying I can tell you that I loved you more than myself and this life. Please, forgive me for ever causing you pain and frustration._

_Rhett, I want you to be happy, even if not with me. You need someone who will take care of you, for example, a wife. Try to be happy without me. Do it for me. I want you to be happy when I am in Heaven._

_Please never visit my grave and don't attend my funeral… I want you to remember me as I was alive. This is my last will. Do it for the memory of our undying love._

_With all my love for you,_

_Scarlett_

The Duke of Naples continued gazing somewhere in the emptiness of the room. "Respect Scarlett's last will, Monsieur Butler. I am sorry, but I cannot help you more. You better leave now," he said apologetically.

"Thank you, sir. I will respect it," Rhett replied.

"I am sorry, but it would be better if you leave now, sir," the Duke repeated coldly, not looking at his opponent. "We are in black mourning."

"I think I will find my way out," shocked Rhett rose to his feet and left the dark mansion. Rhett didn't understand how Scarlett could have asked to write such a note for him. He didn't know what to do and decided to leave the horribly dark house.

"Goodbye, sir," Vittorio said a farewell word to Rhett. When Rhett left, a loud sarcastic laugh of the profound Italian intriguer concussed the grand living room of Marguerite's mansion.

In accordance with the Scotland Yard's plan, the Duke of Naples and _Duchess Marguerite de Ventadour_ had to say to everybody who asks about the accident at the gallery that everybody was dead and already buried in Paris. Detectives of Scotland Yard decided that this strategy would help identify the poisoner more quickly. However, no Scarlett's deathbed note really existed as Vittorio forged the letter with his maid Simonetta Chiarina who managed to copy Scarlett's signature from one of her letters they found in the study room. At the same time, infamous in England Doctor Broussard was practicing witchcraft at the bodies of the green-eyed and grey-eyed ladies in their bedchambers.

Rhett didn't know how he found his way back to Chelsea brothel to Giselle's room. Now he was completely dead, dumb and speechless. He realized that Scarlett, his Scarlett whom he loved and worshiped, was now in Heaven. If before he felt at least something, now he had only one desire - to die and join Bonnie and Scarlett, as well as Belle in Heaven. He was indifferent to everything and disjointed from the outside world at full stretch. He couldn't even move his own hand and felt his legs immobilized. His slumber and body stickiness, compounded with hellish emptiness and blankness of his gaze, frightened Giselle. He was sitting on her large bed, holding his head in his hands, and his shoulders slumped, when she approached him. She put her caressing hands on his large shoulders, but Rhett didn't move and talk, and more than two hours passed in the absolute silence. Suddenly, Rhett raised his coal eyes, swollen from tears, at Giselle and handed to her Scarlett's last note for him, which Vittorio gave him. Giselle's face went deathly-pale as her emotional shock was gradually surging her body. In the end, Rhett began the conversation in a lifeless, low, shaking voice. It was more like an internal monologue of the prisoner condemned to death.

"_It is your hell, insane hell, it is your hell, Dante's inferno," _Rhett was singing in a sonorous, yet far away, voice. "She even didn't want me to attend her funeral…"

"Scarlett… is dead… Murdered… She didn't come to me because… Oh, God! She was dead." His voice trailed off as though automatically.

Giselle gazed at him with compassionately. "Rhett, darling…"

"It happened after I had left the event and headed to my hotel…" Rhett was stammering, his voice cracking.

"Rhett, darling, I am very sorry… I am so sorry… It is so painful to see you in such a state… But you know now that she loved you," Giselle hugged him tightly, kissed his forehead, and Rhett put his head on her chest. He was sobbing uncontrollably, at the top of his voice as his pain was immense and his loss irretrievable.

"I killed her. It is my entire fault. Scarlett, my dear Scarlett! I love you, Scarlett. I love only you, my Scarlett…" Rhett whispered.

"Rhett, Scarlett is not here." Giselle reached for him and gripped his hand. "I am so sorry, darling."

"I killed her… Why did I leave the place without her?" Rhett was steeped in tears as he poked away Giselle and now was sitting on the bed with his face cupped in his large hands. "Scarlett wanted to tell me something… She is with Bonnie now… Bonnie is dead, like her mother… She even didn't want me to visit her grave to remember her as if she was alive… But it is so unfair to me… I love her so much…"

"Darling, your wife is with your daughter and will take care of her in Heaven. They see you and don't want you to kill yourself. Time will help you to forget. You will survive. You will feel some relief soon… Remember that she wanted you to be happy, even without her." Giselle was horrified. She tried to console Rhett, but he didn't listen to her.

"_Sterile and black air, awaits his last breathe, dried thirsty anxious lips, devouring enemies,_" Rhett continued in a sing song voice, which made Giselle panic as she thought that Rhett had gone mad.

"Rhett, darling…"

"Giselle, these are the extracts from Dante Alighieri's lyric… It describes my madness very well, doesn't it?" Rhett asked her with deep regret and unbearable pain in his trembling voice. His body was shivering, tears chocked him. "I remember her lips... They are so sweet… Her emerald eyes… I liked them so much… her ebony hair… Belle is also dead… Ashley is dead… Everybody is dead…"

Rhett was weeping for several hours and, as a child, was clinging to Giselle's chest in search for salvation, but still couldn't find any rest and placidity. In the late afternoon, Giselle had to ask other girls from the brothel to help her to take Rhett to bed when his masculine-built, intoxicated body dropped on the wooden floor. Next several days Rhett spent with Giselle, crying and drinking himself to death as he was unable even to open his eyes, now befogged by alcoholic haze. Finally, Giselle managed to learn from him that his sister Rosemary was in London, and, in her sincere caving to help Rhett, she went to the hotel where Rosemary and Silvia were staying. Giselle asked them to take ever-drunk crazy Rhett from the establishment and take care of him. She felt very sorry for Rhett, but she concluded that his blood sister would be the ideal person to console her heartbroken and hard-set brother.

Rhett didn't remember how he found himself boarding on the ship in Southampton. He was backed up by Silvia and Rosemary because he tottered if he was walking by himself. He was in his own world, estranged and withdrawn from everything. He didn't care for Silvia and Rosemary. He didn't care for himself. He was always intoxicated with whisky or whiskey in his cabin, and his mind was spinning in the shadows of the past. Silvia and Rosemary usually brought the tray with food for him in the cabin because he didn't go to the restaurant or somewhere in public.

Silvia and Rosemary saw what was going on with Rhett. Inwardly, they were pleased that Rhett wouldn't come back to Scarlett and break engagement to Silvia. They tried to encourage him to start normal life and stop drinking, but he didn't listen to them either. On the second week of their return journey to Charleston, Silvia started talking about the wedding again, and Rosemary supported her. Their mutual decision was to ignore their last conversation with Rhett and to follow their initial plan. Observing that Rhett's will power and life-breath were shattered, they decided to lean on him together. Several times Rosemary and Silvia asked Rhett what happened with him, but he didn't answer and pulled them out of the cabin. How strange it was to see Rhett Butler in such misery and sordidness… How easily it was to manipulate a broken man, Rosemary and Silvia thought. They both had different reasons for being happy to take temporary mind-sick Rhett home from London. However, did one of them know what indeed happened with Rhett who apparently couldn't imagine that the helluva person was so close to him?

One evening, Rhett was in hangover in his cabin when Rosemary and Silvia entered the room without a knock. Silvia brought a tray with food for him.

"Rhett, darling, please, it is your favorite pudding," Silvia began with sweetest smile.

"I don't want to eat. Get out," Rhett shrilled out at them, but they didn't leave.

"Rhett, please, eat, darling," Rosemary joined the conversation.

"What about our wedding? Are we doing everything as it was planned? In roughly two weeks? Rhett, you need to stop drinking before the wedding. Please, darling," Silvia asked in the honeyed voice.

"I don't care, Silvia. Leave me alone," Rhett cut her off sharply. "Get out."

"Rhett, let's not make our mother suffer. She is very old and doesn't need stresses and emissions. I don't want her to have a heart attack, like it happened two years ago when Bonnie…" Rosemary's voice trailed off, and after a small pause she stated confidently, looking at smiling Silvia in triumph, "We are doing with the wedding as planned."

"Rhett, my dear, please, eat this. You need to be strong for me, Rosemary, and your mother Eleanor," Silvia traced her finger on Rhett's clenched jaw, "I love you, honey. We will be married soon. It is just perfect! I will make you happy. I will do everything for you. Now please eat, Rhett."

"As you wish, Silvia, leave me alone, please. I don't give a damn," Rhett said in a low voice and stared at emptiness ahead.

"Are you ready for our wedding, Rhett? It will be in the end of June as scheduled. We need to think about the flower ceremony after the official ceremony," Silvia nearly sung and smiled. She pressured on Rhett strongly.

"Please, get out. Don't make me raise my voice," Rhett interrupted her with clear indifference, flashes of emotional tumult evident on his face and fatigue creeping into his split-up voice.

"But Rhett…" Rosemary began.

"Get out! Get out! Get out!" Rhett bellowed out violently, at the top of his lungs. He rose to his feet, rushed to Rosemary, grasped her tightly and carried her forcefully to the door. Frightened by Rhett's rampage, Silvia sprang back from him and followed Rosemary. Rhett slammed the door behind them loudly, opened the bottle of whisky and took a large gulp from the neck of the bottle. He was drinking until he passed out on the carpet.

Silvia, Rosemary, and Rhett arrived in Charleston in the middle of June. Rhett was living in the parallel world, and Silvia and his sister had to help him get dressed, leave the cabin, and disembark the ship, then get home. Rhett was as helpless as a small child. The reason was that Rhett was almost always severely drunk during their journey home, and by the end of the trip it was difficult for him even to get up from the bed and stand on his feet vertically.

On the day of arrival, Rhett drank himself to stupor until he passed out in the study on the wooden floor where he was discovered in the late evening by servants. On the second day of arrival to Charleston, Rhett started his morning in the study downstairs with the same intention to get as drunk as possible by late afternoon. However, his plans were intervened by unexpected call from a special visitor - Edward Devillers, Rhett's lawyer, whose purpose of visit was to enlighten his client about the results of his trip to Atlanta.

Rhett met his lawyer in his night clothes. "Good morning, Mr Devillers, if the morning can be good."

Mr Devillers sighed as he noticed that Rhett was intoxicated in this early hour, his night robe sodden with astringent smell of whisky. "Good morning, Mr Butler."

"Please, take a sit here. Do you want a cup of coffee or tea?" Rhett offered.

Mr Devillers settled in a chair. "Thank you for your offer. I would love to have a cup of green tea in this early morning."

"Mr Butler, I hope your trip went well."

"Mr Devillers, I am fine, but a little tired," Rhett snapped carelessly. "Don't worry, I am not sick."

"I hope so," the lawyer retorted.

Rhett looked at his lawyer with his red-rimmed, inflamated eyes. "I suppose you came to tell me about the results of your visit to Atlanta."

"You are right, Mr Butler. I was in Atlanta two weeks ago," Mr Devillers stated carefully. "I hope you will have some rest in the coming week, Mr Butler."

"You managed to talk to the sheriff, didn't you?" Rhett asked in a shallow, stammering voice. "How did it happen with Belle Watling? Did they find a murderer?"

"I talked to sheriff, but, unfortunately, I have very little information as well as the police. As it appears, Miss Watling was poisoned by a lady who visited her establishment on the day when she came to Atlanta from New Orleans. As the girls from establishment…" the old lawyer felt confused talking about the well-known brothel in Atlanta.

"What did girls at Belle's do? Don't feel embarrassed… erm… at least not in front of me," Rhett roared. Then he broke into an unpleasant, loud laugh.

"They… they said that the lady had been waiting for Miss Watling. When she arrived, they were talking for some time. Later that lady left, and Miss Watling was discovered unconscious on the floor in her suite," Mr Devillers finished the sad story. Not oddly enough, his breath was taken away by Rhett's appearance.

Rhett emptied the glass of whisky he had just poured. "Did they see this lady? Did they find her?" He stood up from the chair, took the decanter, and poured another glass.

"They neither found this lady nor could describe her. Miss Watling's companions said that she was wearing a black gown and a black hat with a hardly transparent veil covering all her face. Sheriff tried to trace this lady, but nobody saw her in the town. She disappeared. They also supposed that Miss Watling could commit a suicide," the lawyer continued.

"Suicide is not possible. It is nonsense. What did they tell about the reason of Belle's death?" Rhett's face turned ghost-like. He paused to clear his throat, tossed another glass in his throat rather abruptly. "Why couldn't the doctor save Belle?"

"I visited Doctor Meade who had taken care of Miss Belle Watling when she was sick. The doctor pledged that she had been poisoned by a rare Italian poison – cooper sulphate. The dose of the poison was deathful. Unfortunately, nothing could have helped Miss Belle Watling."

"I cannot suppose that somebody could have poisoned Belle. Can you please keep an eye on this case to know how the investigation is going on?" Rhett questioned. He turned his head to face the lawyer and lit his cigar. Rhett's chair was surrounded by cigar butts that burned holes in the brown carpet.

"I will do it, Mr Butler. Please accept my sincere condolences for Miss Watling's death. It is a profound loss for your son."

Rhett poured himself the third glass of whisky, catching a bewildered eye from his lawyer, and drank it at one gulp. "Thank you, Mr Devillers. It is also a dreadful loss for me. Now my son Robert is with us at my house, and he will stay here. As Belle is dead, I would like you to prepare the custody agreement on my name," he said.

"I will draft the document and send it to you within three days," the old lawyer informed him.

"Thank you, Mr Devillers."

"I hope this timeframe works for you, Mr Butler."

"It is acceptable."

The lawyer forced a smile. "I am happy to hear this."

"Thank you for helping me with the paperwork. I wish you a good day," Rhett said sharply in a tone that made the lawyer almost jump from his armchair. Rhett slowly brushed his knuckles along his chin. "I hope you will find the way out. I do apologize, but I want to stay alone now."

"Of course, Mr Butler," Mr Devillers said uncertainly, struggling to find the right words to say. "If you need any other help, please inform me."

"We are done, Mr Devillers," Rhett teased him. He leaned back in his chair and finished off another drink. His voice edged with unyielding authority, he stated: "The door is behind you."

"Now I will see myself out." Mr Devillers was at a loss under Rhett's hollow glance. He was also shocked to hear Rhett's imperative, impolite tone, as well as thunderstruck by the obvious excessive drinking his client had been undergoing in the past weeks.

"Goodbye, Mr Devillers," Rhett wished his lawyer, stood up, approached the table with decanter and poured another glass of bittersweet liquid. He was glad that he was alone now. He lit another cigar and inhaled the smoke around him.

Rhett hoped vaguely that he was finally left alone, but his dreams weren't supposed to come true. Two hours have passed, and the maid entered the study room where Rhett was sitting in his armchair, with the glass in his hand and looking at emptiness ahead. It became so familiar pose for him for the past three weeks. The girl announced that Rhett had another visitor from Atlanta. It was Henry Hamilton.

"Good afternoon, Rhett."

"Hello, Henry. Afternoons may be good, but for me they turned into dull and boring now." Rhett's dark face fell into its harsh lines and his lips twisted wryly. His face was unemotional, blank, apathetic, its mimic frozen. It was apparent that Rhett was drinking heavily. He was still in his black velvet night robe.

"I see that pessimism has completely overcome you, Rhett."

"Yes, it is so," Rhett forced an ugly smile. "I hope you are doing well."

"I am fine, thank you."

"Good for you," Rhett replied shortly. "What is the reason for your visit?"

"I contacted your lawyer some time ago. I asked him to notify me immediately when you arrive from Europe," Henry began the conversation. "I have heard from him that you are back in the States and decided to come."

"And how can I help you?"

"Rhett, I know about the tragedy in London…" Henry was stammering.

"I was on that goddamned art event at the National Gallery of London, but I had left before this happened." Rhett paused to gather his strengths to continue his narration. His image emanated the restrained sorrow and hollow he had inside. "We agreed to meet later, after the event. But we had never met… because … because… she had already died by that time."

"I received a telegram from Scarlett's lawyer in France about the case two weeks ago," Henry said bitterly. He lifted his head, and look at Rhett. "The lawyer didn't tell me in details what happened."

"I don't know either… I wasn't there…"

"You had already told me about it."

"I left. Only later when she hadn't come on the meeting I realized what happened. I couldn't even see her dead because she had already been buried in France while I was drinking myself to stupor for a week. Finally, my sister Rosemary brought me back to Charleston," Rhett finished his tirade, stood up, picked up the decanter from the table, and sloshed a glassful.

"Rhett, please accept my sincere, well-meant condolences for this loss," Henry sighed heavily.

"Thank you."

"It is a great tragedy. So you weren't on the funeral, were you?"

"No, I wasn't there. I am a damned fool and a coward who had been drinking to death and had been unable even to make myself see her dead body before she was buried. I was in no condition to embrace her for the last time in my life. However, I was given her deathbed note addressed to me."

"Deathbed note?"

"Yes."

"What did Scarlett ask about?" Henry Hamilton's hands were trembling.

"She said that she hadn't wanted me to visit her grave because she had wished me to remember her as though she had been alive."

Henry shook his head, his eyes flying to Rhett. "It is a strange desire."

"Yes, it is. Honestly, I don't remember clearly all the events, including how I came to Charleston," Rhett spelled out thoughtfully. He held Henry's gaze. "I am a wretched brute in his inert plight."

"Rhett, don't say so. I can understand you. I mean what you feel. Regrettably, I didn't have any further information from Scarlett's lawyer in Europe. There has been no news from them for the past ten days. I hope that you can narrate a story," Henry motioned to the nearby chair.

"Henry, I am sorry. I don't see any light at the end of the tunnel. I only know that she was poisoned and she is dead now… My most beloved woman is dead… because of me… I killed her…" Rhett mumbled.

"Rhett, please, don't say so. You cannot be blamed for it because you didn't kill her," Henry gripped Rhett's hand. "When I wrote to Will and Suellen that Scarlett died in London, the other day thunderstruck Suellen came to my office and said that she needed to talk to you. She asked me with whom Scarlett's children would stay," Henry swallowed hard and stared at Rhett.

Rhett screwed up his face from the bitter taste of whisky as he emptied another glass. "With whom will Scarlett's children stay?"

"I don't know, Rhett."

"Well, I suppose with Suellen because Scarlett doesn't have any other close relatives and her last husband is dead. Perhaps, the Robillards from France will take them."

"The issue is that Suellen questioned whether you would claim the custody over Scarlett's daughters. When I said that I don't know, Suellen declared that she needed to talk to you." Henry was apparently in a daze as well as Rhett.

"She wants to talk to me, doesn't she? Oddly enough, I don't know the reason for it," Rhett fumbled and stopped. He looked over his empty glass at Henry and laughed outright bitterly, "And I don't care now… I would love to see Scarlett's daughters and make sure that they are taken care of. Maybe, a little later…"

"Rhett, I am sorry to intrude, but I think that you should stop drinking heavily. I understand you that you are in grief, but it isn't the way out of the situation. Limit your drinking to a glass-two of whisky per day," Henry advised with genuine concern.

"_Bibamus, moriendum est,_" Rhett mumbled meaningfully.

"What?"

"Death is inevitable - let's drink," Rhett drawled slowly to make sure that Henry understood him. He wrinkled from excessive amount of burning, bitter whisky he circumfused in his stomach in the past hour.

"Brace your energies, Rhett."

"This life is idle."

"I heard that you had claimed Belle Watling's son, rest to her soul. It is a great tragedy, and I am sorry for the reminder about it," Henry said with pure regret and commiseration in his voice.

"Bizarrely, both Belle and Scarlett were poisoned. But you are right that I have only my son left to leave for… Scarlett wanted me to claim my son." Rhett paused and sighed heavily.

Rhett started laughing and continued laughing for several minutes. It was a desperate, hysterical laugh, laugh at himself and at his cruel fate. Henry Hamilton was keeping silent. He was in horror, but he didn't know how to help the broken man in front of him.

"Rhett, how are you?" Henry Hamilton said.

Rhett stopped laughing and looked up at Henry. "I am fine, Henry. I am more than fine." Then he began laughing again. As his laughing outburst lessened and then faded away, he stared at Henry and a sarcastic smile stirred his lips. "You know, Henry, in fact, I clamed my son because Scarlett accused me of being a cad as I denied my fatherhood and made my son with Belle an orphan when he had living parents." Rhett's eyes filled up with tears, running down his cheeks. He looked away from Henry.

"Rhett, I understand. However, you have a son. You must live for her son." Henry Hamilton tried to back up Rhett. His breathing was heavy. "Regarding Suellen's desire… As I said, she wanted to talk to you. Unfortunately, two of her daughters are sick now and she cannot leave Tara. She asked me to tell you that she expects you at Tara immediately once you arrive from Europe."

"I have no clue what Suellen is going to discuss with me. I suppose it is about money that she would inherit from Scarlett and also how to deal with the children's custody agreement," Rhett gnashed. "This is the only explanation I can assume to hold, Henry."

"Perhaps, Rhett, I don't know. She mentioned that it is a strictly private matter," Henry answered easily, looking at distressed Rhett mournfully.

"Well, send a telegram to Suellen that I am back to the States and will call on her at Tara in the nearest future," Rhett said reluctantly and shook his head. "However, in the first place, I need to clear my mind relative to how to live further."

"I will let Suellen know. Now I need to go. Rhett, take care of yourself," Henry Hamilton uttered mildly and clapped Rhett on his shoulder. "Think about your son and live for him."

"Thank you, Henry. Goodbye," Rhett purred and lifted his heavy, a little bloated from alcohol, body from the chair to accompany Henry to the parlor.

Rhett Butler's strategy was simple: he wanted to drink himself to death to drown his sorrow by alcohol and die eventually by poisoning his organism with excessive amounts of the demon drink. Several weeks of non-stop drinking have done their job perfectly: now Rhett was like tired Caesar on copper depleted by long usage, while his sick mind was no longer clear and logical. In Charleston, Rhett intended to continue his dissipation in the local whorehouse and saloon because revelries with gambling and bedding whores were so familiar methods for him to leave the reality behind.

The despair and pain wheeled into anger, self-disgust, and self-hatred because Rhett blamed himself for Scarlett and Belle's deaths. He didn't know what happened with Belle, but the fact that she and Scarlett were murdered and he wasn't there when they died and were buried made him frantic with guilt. His mind was spinning in an anomalous, feverish vortex of persisting, infinite pain and desolation. He couldn't explain his feeling and the outcome of it, but all-absorbing fear consumed his soul and all his dreams. He thought that he had gone mad. It was similar to hell on the sinful Earth, and his soul was walking by small steps in a thick cold fog to the abyss and a painful miserable life. He felt abysmal emptiness and saw the eyes of hell. Rhett was sure that he was in perfectly natural hell, hell on Earth, Dante's inferno.

Rhett wanted to die. He didn't want to live without his beloved Scarlett. However, Rhett knew that death wasn't waiting for him right at the doorway of his room, but he was becoming more and more confident that for him it would prevail in the end. He was too depressed to admit that could be otherwise. Rhett struggled with every second and every minute of his life he hated wholeheartedly at that moment, and he hoped that ultimately death would triumph for him, preferably in the nearest future, he mused. He appeased himself that he was still alive because death had been hunting for him for a while before swallowing him up. Rhett concluded that reciprocity existed between his life and death as death would liberate him from sufferings and let him join Bonnie, Scarlett, and Belle, while for life it was just a matter of time to drift to death in the flux of time, accelerated for him due to his alcoholic abyss. All tragedies in his life finally broke Rhett completely, and his soul no longer was filled with the will-to-live, making him apprehensive for his existence and hating it in its meaninglessness. However, death didn't come, although he desperately hoped that it would visit him soon and capture his sinful soul. Why was it so? Perhaps, there was still some hope for him? Was there any light in the end of the tunnel for Rhett?

* * *

_Rhett is in Charleston. Scarlett and Rhett are again apart. Rhett is again drinking to dampen his pain. Isn't it a standard Rhett? Pretty standard, to my great disappointment. _

_What you see now is Rhett's punishment for his past sins. I wanted him to torment and to suffer how Scarlett was suffering alone. He deserved it._

_Don't forget how the story is called - "Per aspera ad astra" or "Through hardships to the stars". Many hardships must be overcome in order to become happy._

_Reviews are always appreciated. Thank you._


	41. Chapter 41

**Chapter 41**

**Rhett and Scarlett: spiritual mind wandering**

Rhett Butler never felt so lonely and unbefriended. Now he was alone in the whole world because there was no Belle Watling, no Scarlett, no his daughter Bonnie. He didn't want to see his old friends and companions from the Yankees or anybody else from the Old South. He started to despise all his past life and his actions, while before he had been proud of his numerous heroic deeds. He remembered his youth and how he had to leave Charleston, his adventures in the blockade-running times during the war, his picaroon-like expeditions to Bahamas and Cuba, his adventures in California during the times of gold rush, and the amounts of money he earned as he was involved in those activities. He didn't care about all his money on the bank account, and the only single thought about millions of dollars he possessed was suffocating him and forcing him to vomit.

Rhett recalled how many different women he had as mistresses and how many were simply bedded by him as whores during his quite long life. As he remembered those things, he suddenly felt sick with overwhelming guilt for using those women without giving something non-monetary to them in return. He had been with different women - French, Italian, American, both from the North and from the South, Creole from New Orleans, German, Spanish, even Russian; with grey, green, black, haze, blue eyes; rich and educated, poor and illiterate; beautiful and plain, well-mannered proper ladies and unladylike ill-bred women. The truth was that he didn't love them and used exclusively for his physical pleasure, buying their bodies in exchange for his ill-gotten money.

During his whole life, Rhett thought that he could buy almost everything, including Scarlett's love by marrying her and giving her houses, gowns, jewelry and so on. More than two and a half years ago, when Bonnie died, he came to the conclusion that he had been beaten in his duel with Ashley Wilkes and that he had lost everything in his life. He persuaded himself that he would be able to escape his actual desires and wishes and get rid of Scarlett. He divorced her and pushed her away in the cruelest manner possible. Now, when Rhett thought that she was dead he regretted even more that he didn't believe in her professions of love and didn't try to become happy. Indeed, when she was still in Atlanta and later came to him to Charleston, he could make her happy and could be happy, have a normal family, and have more children who could fill the aching spaces in their hearts. Now Rhett comprehended that he missed his boat because he didn't have another chance and he couldn't turn back the handles of the clock.

He had visited so many places. He had made some many things. He had met so many different people. He had been so many times close to death, but he had escaped it. God knows why he was still alive. He was breathing, although as though not with the full lungs. His organism was functioning - he could eat, drink, and sleep if he forced sleep to come or fatigue overcame his body by itself. However, his life resembled something like a short existence of a flower that unfurled and later faded away. Rhett's state of mind was somehow similar to the illusion of existence, not natural, energetic and rhythmic life. Everything went wrong.

Rhett had learnt a multitude of various things. He had learnt to risk and to live in constant danger. He had learnt to earn money by himself. He had learnt to approach people and manipulate them on behalf of himself. He had learnt to be above others in his intellect, business acumen, logic, and reasoning. He had learnt an art of women's seduction. In the meantime, he had failed in so many other areas. He hadn't leant to be sincere with the outside world. He hadn't learnt to look at himself from the different angle and to see his mistakes and his misdoings. He hadn't been able not to blame others, but rather to blame himself. He had leant to love and even tried to fight for that love, but that hadn't been enough. He hadn't learnt how to preserve, worship, and be happy with that only true love, which had always been his greatest omission. The result was tragic – blood and death.

Rhett had always tended to be headstrong and independent. Even as a child he had always been aloof, going his own path and neglecting the opinion of his family and the society about him, but there was a difference these days. Once he had just been polite and aloof, at times sincere, and despite his iron-willed personality and his cynical attitude to life, there had been air of sweetness around him, especially when he had stayed alone with his mother and sister, which happened very rarely after his involuntary exile from Charleston, organized by his father. There had always been sweetness, even if far-fetched, with women. Now everything changed - no longer this sweetness existed. Not since the terrible end of his marriage and since Scarlett's reported death in London. This was different Rhett Butler. He became completely aloof and withdrawn.

The only woman whom he genuinely loved for so many years was Scarlett O'Hara, his green-eyed elfin or vixen, how he called her sometimes. Nowadays, she was dead, and everything was dead together with her. He thought that he passed away when his precious blue-eyed angel Bonnie died, but at present he faced and perceived the truth that on that day of the horse accident only part of him died, while now he was completely dead and buried still alive-like on the _Père Lachaise Cemetery_ in Paris together with Scarlett. He was repugnant to himself for all his past life and was sure that it was punishment for all his sins and transgressions. Never could he imagine that it would be so hellishly hard to sustain. Inside, Rhett was completely broken and beaten man. He seemed to lose his last hope in his miserable life and was drifting to nowhere, with the exception of bottle of whiskey or scotch.

Rhett was also crushed by Belle Watling's death. Now, when Scarlett joined Belle in Heaven, Rhett was heartbroken, and old scars, which had already cicatrized a little, started to hurt even more than before. He was always intoxicated, and in his great inebriety the image of Goddess in a golden French evening gown imparted into his inflamed mind, his heart and his soul each and every minute when he began to remember her. His mind reproduced the day of the barbeque at Twelve Oaks when Scarlett was sitting in the midst of her stupid county admirers and flirted with them recklessly, dreaming secretly about Ashley. Rhett was bearing in memory her green sprigged muslin dress with the tiny puffed sleeves and the low neckline, which wasn't suitable for a usual barbeque, being an afternoon dress. He reminisced how that dress made her silky, creamy skin glow. He memorized how, being outraged in the aftermath of Ashley's rejection, she picked up a tiny china rose-bowl and hurled it viciously across the room toward the fireplace, which boiled his blood and brought undeniable admiration for her frightful lust for life.

He also recalled Scarlett, frightened and pleading him to stay with her, Melanie, little Beau, and Prissy when he was leaving them to join the remainder of digressional army of almost former Confederacy near Rough and Ready. His mind also recollected their wedding day and Scarlett wearing a deep-green silky gown with the low neckline, which he ordered for her from Paris. He liked to remember the moment when he put a ring on her index finger and she smiled so genuinely and so frankly in response that he was sure she didn't think about Ashley at that moment. Rhett again looked back to their honeymoon in New Orleans and the evening when Scarlett, intoxicated by champagne, was singing "Bonnie Blue Flag" all the way back to the hotel in an open carriage. When he recollected in his mind how humiliated and embarrassed she looked on the morning after that night and his own amusement, a soft smile covered his dry lips. He recalled how happy she was when they were shopping together in the city because she no longer had to save and count pennies in order to pay taxes or buy mules or purchase food. It wasn't important that she purchased things recklessly and without any thought – she was happy or seemed to be happy and Rhett allowed her to buy everything she wanted.

He also refreshed his memory with negative pictures when Scarlett, pale, motionless, and unconscious, was lying at the bottom of the staircase on the red carpet after her fall, which was entirely his fault with the expense of the life of their unborn child. Rhett also searched in his memory how she looked when he left her on the day of Melanie's death - shivering in front of him and vulnerable, she had a bright glow in her pale green eyes, radiating from the bottom of her heart, which was fine warmth and love for him. He remembered her ashy-grey bewildered face and her fireless, wintry glance after his statement that his love for her had worn out. Rhett also kept in his brain the sincere, passionate, and amorous look of her emerald cat-like eyes she granted to him on their night in Charleston two and a half years ago, as well as six months ago. Vulnerable, conquered, and submissive to his body and will, she was burning from her passion and vehement love for him, melting under his skillful hands caressing her body. Rhett will never be able to forget her because she was in his blood, in each cell and in each tissue of his tired body and his empty soul. She was like a gamboling, beloved kitten that he wanted to spoil and to display as much kindness as possible. However, everything remained in the past and he no longer could take care of her and protect her from the hostile outside world. He failed to become her knight, life-saver, and the Savior on the sinful Earth.

"Belle told me that I should go and find Scarlett before I regret. She was absolutely right. She might have had a second sight. Why didn't I find Scarlett earlier, immediately after she ran away from me?" Rhett thought. "At present, I can do nothing because I lost everything… I only have Robert, my dear son whom I neglected for so many years. At least I had managed to claim him before it was too late. I did at least one honorable thing in my crummy life."

During his life, Rhett Butler was constantly fighting and winning. He was a renegade and a scoundrel, a blockade runner and a pirate, a gambler and a conqueror. Being extremely smart in business, intelligent in a broad life, and having undeniable skills of understanding human beings from revolutionary new angles, he faced misery in his personal life stemming from constant duels with Ashley Wilkes at first and then from innocent blood on his hands. He had too much blood in his life, blood of people whom he truly loved more than himself, including his daughter Bonnie, his unborn child lost on the staircase, and finally Scarlett. Even his former competitor Ashley Wilkes was dead. Rhett felt like he was completely dead and flying somewhere in hell, deeper and deeper, further and further from his physical body. His soul accumulated irreparable damage throughout his entire life, damage that can never be eliminated from his life. Rhett could feel neither his physical body nor his spiritual aura. Everything was gone and destroyed by devil's hands.

Rhett witnessed death everywhere - in each corner of each room in the house, in the street, inside himself. When he opened his eyes in the morning or in the night being awakened by the continuous terrible recurring nightmares, he saw the eyes of death in front of his frazzled face, the eyes of hell, flattish, huge, hollow, and encircled by black streak. Rhett was trembling and his body was convulsing when he saw this dismal, extramundane eyes of unearthly world, which his mind invented in his moon-madness and persecution mania of fear and sins. At times, he imagined that an unseen mysterious creature of dark nature gave its hand to him, touched his palm, stoked his jet-black hair, and smiled reproachfully at him. He always felt the presence of this creature in his bedroom or in the study room where he was usually drinking his sorrow to stupor. That unknown creature talked to Rhett and dwelled morbidly on the inevitability of death, meaning that every moment of Rhett's current life was bringing him closer and closer to the chasmal abyss.

At the same time, in London Scarlett was living in her chasmal oblivion. Hell, intermediate stage, paradise... Everything was so messed-up in her sick, half dead mind, so similar to mental handicap and hebetude. Scarlett didn't know where she was wandering in her mind. She was either in her deathlike, deep sleep or in harsh reality with the undertone of whimsical strangeness, unusual novelty, and all-around obscurity. If it was reality, then Scarlett became much younger and was now living at Tara with her mother and father, Mammy, and her two sisters, with whom she struggled for dresses for the barbecue at Twelve Oaks. Scarlett caught a sight of herself getting out of the carriage with her Pa who gave her his hand. She observed that, having stepped in the street, they headed to the porch of the Wilkes mansion. Suddenly, Scarlett clapped her eyes on a tall, powerfully built man with swarthy face and bold, coal eyes. Even in her oblivion, her mind reproduced a reckless, cynical expression of his face as he smiled at her and unashamedly undressed her up to her chemise by his eyes. Scarlett also saw how she was going upstairs with Catherine Calvert who told her about that ill-mannered, badly-reputed man from Charleston, whose name was Rhett Butler. She also witnessed herself in the library when she was producing her love confessions to Ashley, asking him whether she had his heart. Her sleeping heart collapsed in its own stupidity when her mind traveled to the reasons of Ashley's rejection, being two presuppositions that they were too different for successful life-long marriage and that Ashley's nobility and honor didn't let him express his feelings to Scarlett. Even in her semi-comatose swoon, she was laughing at herself watching her anger and promise to hate her former white knight till her dying day. Her life transgressed to the minute when she saw Rhett on the sofa in the library, and her subconscious mind expressed unperceived desire to talk to him as an old sincere friend without any accusations and rage outbursts.

Next, her mind drifted to the moment when she agreed to marry Charles Hamilton in order to make precious Ashley jealous, and her inner self was smirking loudly with echo on her foolishness. Later, Frank Kennedy's image arose in her sick brain, and she witnessed herself yelling and grumbling at him, as well as ignoring him in their marital bed to avoid getting pregnant with a repulsive lachrymose baby. Her mind moved forward to Frank's death when he was killed by gunshot in his head after she had been attacked on the way to her sawmill.

"You brought me to ruin and spoiled my life, while Suellen could have given me peace and comfortable life. You deceived me that she wasn't interested in me and forced me to marry you," Frank wanted to needle her. "Now you got what you deserved. Accept this punishment for your evil nature, sugar Scarlett."

Scarlett got sight of how Rhett and she joined hands and made their marital vows, in the presence of God and guests. Her sleepy brain noticed how happy her face was when the priest declared them to be husband and wife. Her tired mind yelled at her for her stupidity that on that beautiful marriage day she didn't understand why she was so happy that couldn't breathe and her heart was hampering so loud that she was afraid guests would hear it. She was laughing at herself that she was so silly not to notice that it was the beginning, an embryo of that unconditional and undying live to her ex-husband Rhett Butler, love that was being carried by her in the bottom of her heart throughout the whole supraliminal life. Her mind traveled further to the night of Ashley's birthday when she found Rhett drunk downstairs and saw him from completely new angle for her - she faced Rhett who wasn't traditionally nonchalant, satirical, and taking life like ironic joke – it was Rhett who was ill-mannered, violent as storms causing shipwrecks, with defiant blazing gaze and determination of a lion in his bloodshot from whiskey eyes. In her current unconscious state, her mind started swirling of wild fear, resignation to his body and will to subdue her, and final surrender to his bruising lips above her trembling lips. Scarlett's physical membranes immediately reacted to sweet unconscious memories, and she moaned so loudly in her insensibly sleeping condition that Marguerite, who nursed her, began to shiver from fear and pray to God to save Scarlett. Little Marguerite knew that Scarlett was groaning from pleasure.

"I… you Rhett…" Scarlett's soul wanted to scream, but only a hardly recognizable whisper and some quite moans escaped her dry lips. Marguerite leaned down, very close to unconscious Scarlett, as she tried to understand what she was murmuring.

"What, Scarlett?" Marguerite inquired anxiously. "What, darling?"

"Rhett… Rhett…" Scarlett's lips produced very quietly, in a quarter of a whisper.

"What, my dear?" Marguerite repeated as she didn't her Scarlett's whisper.

The answer was several silent minutes. Scarlett didn't move, her eyes closed, her dry lips parted.

"No, Scarlett. I will never let you lock yourself away in this sleep," Marguerite drawled in a laughter-tinged tone as she tried to raise her own mood. "You will come back to us, I know. You must do it. Everybody needs you – your daughters, Annabelle, Patrick, I, Philippe, and many other people." She paused, tears oozing her sapphire blue eyes. "Please come back to us."

Scarlett's sick mind reproduced Bonnie's unlucky jump through the barrier on her pony and her lifeless body on the grass carried by frightened Rhett back to the house. As if in waking life, she heard her own loud desperate cries and Rhett's hoarse cries and witnessed a melee of blue velvet, flying hooves on the ground, and an empty saddle on the pony. Darkness and dreadful fear captured all her soul. Her inflamated brain showed her Rhett standing at the doorway of the outside entrance to their house in Atlanta, and his unprecedented "_Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn…_" resonated from some distant part of hell, multiplied in its horridness by his subsequent disappearance in the fog, her despair and desire to die right on the staircase of her grand damned mansion.

Somebody asked her tired mind: "_Did it ever occur to you that even the most deathless love could wear out_?" A cold answer followed: "_Mine wore out… Mine wore out_…" This was like a sentence to death or worse. "_I no longer love you_…" echoed in a far-away, senescent voice, and this voice was steadily rising to chilling, sonorous soprano, which exploded in her ears and in her brain. Blown away by surging hot anger at her former absurdity and fear to lose her love, her unconscious body started to tremble and shake in strong, heart-rending convulsions, and Scarlett screamed in a small voice.

"Rhett, don't… don't… go… Rhett… Don't leave… me…" Scarlett was saying under her heavy breath and so quietly that Marguerite strained her hearing considerably to understand her.

"Scarlett, darling, how can I help you?" Marguerite replied. "I don't hear what you are whispering."

"Isabelle… Blanche… I… love you" Scarlett babbled with great intervals between her whisperings.

"Well, who could possibly be better suited than I to nurse and save you?" Marguerite forced a vague smile. She tried to talk to Scarlett as though she had heard her. The vision in front of her – a helpless, fragile Scarlett, with white face and even paler delicately carved cheekbones - stole her breath away.

"Father… Mother…" Scarlett groaned.

Marguerite sighed heavily. "Only Annabelle and I can go through this calamity with you. Annabelle is sick, but I am with you, darling. As a woman of enormous consequence for you, I will stay with you until you awake. I promise."

"Annabelle…" Scarlett murmured.

Marguerite tried to talk to Scarlett, but she was only talking to herself as Scarlett didn't hear her. "And Philippe needs you, Scarlett. You cannot imagine how worried Philippe and his children were. Honestly, I have never fantasized that Philippe could care for somebody so much, if this person is not his child."

A strange sound escaped Scarlett's lips. "Rhett… Rhett…" It was a combination of a moan and a plea.

"Scarlett, darling, please come back to us," Marguerite implored in despair.

While Marguerite was talking to herself, Scarlett in her mind laid her eyes on a smiling laughing devil with dark handsome face, Rhett's pirate-like face. "My pet, you are in hell you created especially for us. Frank and Charles are with me here," Rhett said. His voice was half mocking, half waspish, as Scarlett's brain perceived it to be. "We have been waiting for you impatiently. You have to perform dance with the fire for us as a mandatory measure of admonition for your future behavior in real world."

Mentally, Scarlett was dancing in the unknown ballroom where the whole floor was in the fire. She stepped on the floor and cried out loudly as her feet were burnt so hard that she was about to pass out on the spot from a terrible, unbearable pain. She felt the disgusting smell of her burnt skin, making her feel pharyngeal reflex somewhere low in her throat. In reality, Scarlett was about to vomit the small contents of her stomach, which wasn't unnoticed by Marguerite who lunged from her chair, approached Scarlett, leaned closer to her, and took her head in her hands to help her, but nothing followed. Scarlett's body relaxed and its trembling stopped suddenly. At the same time, in her imagination Scarlett was dancing with her feet severely injured. She knew that she had to perform this dance because she perceived it as the only measure of remission of her sins and the single way of salvation for her and her daughters. The flashbacks of Blanche and Isabelle's precious little faces emerged periodically in her tired brain and were spilling in the darkness of vacuum and haze around her. Scarlett witnessed them crying on Rhett's hands, crying because of her death and because of God's decision to bury her in hell because of her past wrongdoings, transgressions, and errors.

"Scarlett, you are in hell, like me... But you are dead, and hence it is easier for you, my pet. I am in hell being buried alive in the large tomb called the world." She was dreaming about very sad and pleading Rhett. "Our daughters cannot stay with me if you are still dead. You need to come back to stop their crying in my hands and make us happy."

Scarlett's numb mind was wandering back and forward in search of either death or arousal. Her past experience told her that to live means to suffer and that the triumph of death was inevitable and meant salvation from unhappiness, grief, pain, hunger, and physical sickness. She realized that a constant dying existed and it was a normal process of evolution, but she didn't know whether she was ready to die. Immediately, her inflamated mind associated death with the denial of the individual's will or will-to-live, and she had so strong lust for life, passion, and vitality. Her mind paralleled birth and death as events in the phenomenal world, which are so much alike but unreal. What was death for her? Was it the extinction of individual's consciousness, the irreversible destruction of the human ego, or simply the destruction of a physical body? Scarlett perceived her past existence as constant, gradual dying of her soul, something like empirical moving to her end. She felt that her existence was caught up in the inconvertible flow of time, and her present was continually dwelling into her past.

"My real existence is only in the present, and I don't want to travel in the past… No more... This tardiness in thinking about my past strengthens my dying and I must carve out it from my life. The liberal mental flight into the past is a constant transition into death, which I bring into proximity with me due to my memory trips and my dependence on the forgiveness of my past sins," Scarlett's mind told her with confidence. "God's nightgown! I still can make my life better and correct my past mistakes."

Scarlett wasn't ready to die and tightened all her nerves to fight the death. She decided in favor of a permanent postponement of ongoing death. This realization provided her with a glimpse of reality, and the green-eyed elfin half opened her slumberous, frantically wandering eyes. She thought that her long black eyelids were so heavy, as though they had been weighed down with steel when she made a timid effort to open them. A will-ironed creature from her birth, she at last succeeded, feeling as though someone had buried an ax in her skull. Then she closed her eyes, and restless sleep claimed her back.

Then Scarlett's sick mind reproduced Mathieu's face and his hazel eyes, eyes of the color of the hazelnut shell. She was dreaming in her semi-conscious state. She felt as though she had looked at her late husband Mathieu with her befogged eyes – the hazel eyes were so close to her face. Then she felt that somebody had touched her face and started gently stroking her raven hair, so elegantly and in a lyrical disorder spread on her white satin pillow. Her mind was folded in haze. She felt as though she had been listening to somebody's labored breathing, very close to her. She felt that she hadn't been alone in the room. At least, she had felt somebody's physical presence there. Scarlett shivered under those hands caressing her hair and her temples. Were those hands unknown hands of death or hands of life? Scarlett made a great effort and forced herself to open her green eyes.

Half open, her eyes rapidly widened in horror – Scarlett saw Mathieu's face. But it was a dream, and she knew that. At least she felt so. Mathieu's face was very sad, his hazel eyes glistering with unshed tears. His face grimaced in pain, as she viewed him. Then she swiftly closed her eyes in utter horror as she had felt that her mind had entirely twisted all the reality. Mathieu was dead. As she sighed and her eyes flung widely open again, she saw that there was nobody around her. There were complete mess and thick fog around her, which were enveloping and embracing her more and more with each minute.

"Scarlett, I don't want you to die. At least not now! You must live," Mathieu said in a half whisper into her ear. His murmur was a tormenting murmur as there was nothing gentle and nothing soft in his tone. "But you never loved me, Scarlett. You and my dear friend the Duke of Aylebsury only used me in order to hide your disgrace from the outside world. At the same time, I loved you very much throughout all this time. Even now I love you. I love you despite everything." Then Mathieu's face disappeared in the darkness. Everything connected with him was gone in abyss.

Scarlett opened her eyes again and moaned. She was alone in the darkness. There was no Mathieu, no Rhett, no her daughters, no Marguerite, no Annabelle, no Marchmont, or no Aylesbury. Scarlett trembled and her body began to convulse. And then her mind collapsed as she felt how oblivion and abyss had claimed her again, with a new strength. Everything around her was surrounded by haze and darkness. She was again flying down and down, with each minute and second lower and lower, either to hell or to paradise. It was a murderous, agonizing moment when she had felt that she had landed somewhere, as though on the ground. At the same time, she felt as though she had been somewhere in the air, in vacuum, and it was the most dreadful sensation she had ever had in her life. The poisoning sent her down into the rabbit hole, into the heart of the black hole, into the bottomless chasm, the very abyss in itself. She felt a though she had never been in that abyss and chasm before, but she had wanted to leave that terrible place.

Scarlett was delirious. She opened her eyes shortly and saw Rhett's face in front of her. Rhett was smiling at her. "My pet, are you happy now? We are all leading miserable lives, and everything happened because of you. But I love you despite everything," Rhett said. His voice was hard. "I will never forget you," he added in a softer voice.

Rhett's face and tone weren't as horrid as Mathieu's were when she saw him in her delirium. Then Rhett disappeared and haze overcame Scarlett. She was again calling for her parents Ellen and Gerald, for Mammy, and for her children Blanche and Isabelle. She was having high temperature of her body. Fever was suffocating her. The air in the room was so heavy, so distasteful, and so mawkish that she couldn't draw a single breath. Scarlett began to cry, diamond tears oozing the corners of her tightly shut, pale green eyes. Scarlett moaned several times something indistinguishable. Then convulsions overtook her and she groaned something else.

She swallowed hard over and over again, tears stinging her eyes. She felt how somebody was brushing the wetness from her cheeks and her eyes away. She heard somebody's very soft voice very close to her. She felt that somebody gently took her hands in his hands and kissed them, then embosomed them right to his heart. Her mind registered that somebody was prattling something very close to her. Then the same person kissed her forehead, so gently and so tender that she felt pleasant feeling of comfort, placidity, and peace, entrammeling her entire essence. It was as though her father Gerald had arisen from the dead – it was as though the person close to her had been her father Gerald incarnate.

"Mother, mother…" Scarlett muttered under her breath. "Please don't die…"

Somebody placed a light kiss on her forehead. Then he began stroking it softly. "Scarlett, darling, she cannot be with us," somebody's flat baritone spoke.

"Mother… Mother…" she repeated.

"It is not time for you to go to your mother. Your mother Ellen wants you to return to us," the voice admonished her. "She would never want you to die," the voice said softer and tenderer.

"Blanche… Isabelle…" Scarlett called her daughters. "I love you… my darlings."

Somebody placed another kiss on her forehead. "Scarlett, my dear, please come back to us. I don't want you to die. You must live. You are very young to leave us. We need you."

"Father... Father... Don't ride that horse…" she whispered and began to toss her head on the pillow.

A small silence followed. The person who had been consoling her was keeping silent. Then that person drew a deep, agonizing breath and held it for a long, long time. "Your father… your parents… are imploring you to return to us," a half whisper followed.

Scarlett's delirium was continuing. Her mind traveled back to Rhett Butler. "Rhett… Rhett… You left me… Rhett… Where are you?" she murmured in a half whisper.

Someone sighed, continuing to stroke her raven hair. "Scarlett, my darling, please make an effort. You must win in the battle with death."

Scarlett didn't hear what the last words were as a new wave of restless oblivion and hot fever slashed through her with a new strength. She moaned and straightened her body on the bed.

At the same time, a middle-aged woman entered the room. Her sapphire blue eyes were glistering with tears. Her deep brunette, a little grizzled hair was made in a classical bunch on the nape of her head. The woman paused at the doorway, looking at the gentleman, who was apparently around ten years younger than he was. Her heart was swelling with pain as she was watching the picture in front of her. This woman was _Marguerite Marie Gabrielle de Robillard de Bréveaux, Duchess de Ventadour._

Marguerite was very astonished that the Duke of Aylesbury, who had always been handling his emotions on the leash, had looked so fragile and so crushed in the aftermath what had happened with Scarlett. She had never thought that Aylesbury could be so sensitive toward somebody else, excluding his own children and his very close friends. Aylesbury had always been at the side of the Robillards and had always helped them, but he had never been too personal and too sensitive. He remained detached and standalone, although he had always cared very much for each of the Robillards, whether young, middle-aged, or old family members. It seemed as though what had happened Scarlett had ruined the fence of emotional estrangement the Duke of Aylesbury had to the outside world. Now, after so many years, Marguerite began to call the Duke of Aylesbury by his first name – Philippe, instead of the Duke of Aylesbury or Aylesbury or "your Grace".

"Philippe, you must go home and have your rest," Marguerite said. She was talking to her second cousin _Philippe Justin Robillard-Arden, 8th Duke of Aylesbury._

Philippe turned his head and looked up at her. "Marguerite, you are here. I didn't hear how you came in."

"Philippe, you look exhausted. Please go home and have some rest. I am insisting on your rest."

"Marguerite, I think I am fine," he replied, continuing to hold Scarlett's right hand.

She approached him and put a hand on his shoulder. "I don't think so."

The Duke of Aylesbury looked very tired, even exhausted. There were dark circles under his very dark brown, almost black eyes. His eyes were inflamed because of lack of sleep. He had a dreadful schedule throughout the last weeks: he was maneuvering among the Ministry for Foreign Affairs, where he was officially working, Scotland Yard, his own house - the Robillard-Arden Hall in Belgravia, and the Marchmont House in Mayfair. In addition, he recently returned from Paris where _Marquis Geoffroy de Boisy_ and _Marquis Charles de Bréval_ were buried in their family tombs at _Père Lachaise Cemetery._ It was as though Aylesbury hadn't been sleeping for weeks and, probably, months. He looked awful, even despite his elegant, dapper clothes and general handsomeness and undeniable charm.

Aylesbury waggled his brows at her. "Probably, you are right." Then he looked again at Scarlett who stopped tossing her head on the pillow.

Marguerite's soft, calm voice spoke. "Go home, Philippe. I am going to give antidote to Scarlett now."

Aylesbury looked helplessly from Marguerite to Scarlett. "How many times per day are you giving it to her?"

Marguerite managed a smile, but it proved to be a bad attempt. "Three times per day in accordance with Doctor Casimir Broussard's prescription."

"This is a normal, adequate dose," Aylesbury stated with confidence.

Marguerite shrugged in uncertainty. "I think so."

Aylesbury rose from the edge of the bed. "Have you checked how Annabelle is doing?"

"Yes, I have. Annabelle is fine. She is sleeping now." She stared at Aylesbury. "Philippe, have you decided to follow my advice?"

He grinned broadly, but it was a doleful grin. "I am really tired," he acknowledged.

Marguerite and Aylesbury headed to the doorway, the sound of their footsteps deafened by the lavender Aubusson carpet.

"Don't worry, Philippe. I will take care of Scarlett," Marguerite said and smiled at him.

The Duke of Aylesbury's back eyes flashed in the semidarkness of the room. "Thank you, Marguerite."

"Annabelle is not eating. I can do nothing about this," she remarked.

"It is normal that she doesn't have any appetite now. She is both stressed and sick. She will feel better soon," the Duke of Aylesbury commented.

"You are right, Philippe," Marguerite answered as they approached the door. "I will accompany you downstairs and then come back here in order to give antidote to Scarlett."

Heat filled Aylesbury's cheeks and he squeezed his eyes shut for an instance. Then he blinked. "It is a good idea. Let's go downstairs, in the grand hall."

"Let's go, Philippe," she agreed as they left the room. "You must rest. Otherwise you will need a doctor soon."

In a minute after they had left, the shadow appeared from beneath the heavy red velvet curtains. It was the perfect, mysterious shadow, very dark in its nature. The shadow approached Scarlett's bed and took her hand in its right hand. The shadow squeezed it for an instance and abruptly pulled back. Then that shadow took one of the pillows from the bed and raised it up, obviously preparing to finally put the pillow on Scarlett's face and strangle her. The pillow began to go down, right on Scarlett's face. And then suddenly the pillow hung in mid-air. The mysterious shadow paused, obviously thinking what to do next.

"Too much blood because of you," the shadow whispered.

The shadow continued standing in the same position, the pillow in its hands. As half of a minute passed, and finally the shadow lowered the pillow on Scarlett's face, hesitantly and slowly, as though in half-heartedness and in indetermination. Suddenly, the shadow put the pillow back on the bed. The shadow sighed and stared at Scarlett for a short moment and then headed back to the French window that faced the garden. Then the shadow disappeared, as though it had never visited this room. However, its visit was not a product of somebody's hallucination – it was mysterious, dark reality.

The Earl of Marchmont was pacing the grand hall, waiting for Marguerite and Philippe. Like the Duke of Aylesbury, Lord Marchmont also looked very tired as he wasn't sleeping for many nights after the dreadful poisoning had happened. His sapphire blue eyes were yearnful and hollow. As he saw Philippe and his mother Marguerite on the grand Neo-Romanesque staircase, he marched in their direction.

"How is Scarlett?" Lord Marchmont asked.

Marguerite stared at him. "Nothing has changed. She is still in the same semi-comatose state."

"Oh, God!" Marchmont exclaimed. Then his blue eyes fixed on the Duke of Aylesbury. "Your Grace, you look very tired. I think you should go home and have some rest."

"You are right, your lordship," Aylebsury agreed. "I am going home now." He paused and forced a wistful smile to illuminate his chiseled facial features. "Marchmont, you can call me by my first name, like your mother is doing now and like I am now addressing to her."

It was like a thunderclap for Lord Marchmont as the Duke of Aylesbury had never referred to his mother, who was his second cousin, and to him by the first name. Aylesbury had always been a very formal person, and even in critical moments he had never forgotten about etiquette and formality. Everybody got accustomed to it, thinking that it was in his blood. Marchmont smiled vaguely as it wasn't what he had suspected to hear from dispassionate Aylesbury, but he was glad to hear it.

Marchmont looked at Aylesbury with silent approval. "Don't worry, your Grace. We will take care of Scarlett and Annabelle," he said. He wasn't accustomed to more personal addressing from Aylesbury's side. "I am glad that we became more personal."

"Thank you, your lordship," the Duke of Aylebsury answered. "But please refer to me by my first name. I cannot address to your mother by the first name and to the son by title. For me it is illogical."

"Thank you, Philippe," he said. A wide smile crossed over his aristocratic face.

Marguerite smiled at them. "Philippe, thank you."

Aylesbury's lips stirred in a semblance of smile. "Welcome, Patrick."

As Aylebsury left, Marguerite and Patrick exchanged amazed looks.

"I didn't expect Philippe to become personal," Marchmont said.

"Philippe is just shocked in the aftermath of the poisoning. Believe me, Patrick, he is very worried."

Marchmont nodded. "I know."

"Patrick, we are among very few people who address to him by his first name," Marguerite noted.

"What privileged people we are," he jeered, trying to defuse the tense environment.

"Exactly." Marguerite smiled. "I am going to Scarlett now. Will you be at home tonight?"

"Yes, I will be spending night here. Till the time when Scarlett and Annabelle get better, I won't attend any parties," he pledged.

Marguerite's blue eyes twinkled with gratitude. "Thank you, son."

* * *

_I re-wrote this chapter several times because it was not very easy to portray spiritual mind wandering of drunken Rhett and unconscious Scarlett. In my humble opinion, this chapter was necessary to show the emotions and the evolution of the heroes' mindset. The closer we are to the pinnacle of Act II, the sharper the emotions are._

_I would be very grateful for the comments. Thank you very much in advance._


	42. Chapter 42

**Chapter 42**

**The aftermath of the tragedy: Rhett Butler in the South of the States**

In Charleston, Rhett was spending all the time drinking and gambling in local saloon or at the whorehouse in the nighttime. In the mornings he usually had terrible hangovers and started drinking after breakfast in order to pass out in the late afternoon. He didn't sleep with any woman because his emotional backstop for intimacy with other women had strengthened to the greatest extent in his life. His last woman was Giselle whom he bedded in a luxurious London brothel when he thought that Scarlett betrayed him and didn't come to the hotel on the meeting. Now, however, he couldn't do it with somebody else. Rhett was sure that if he tries he won't succeed because of being physically incapable for intimacy in his current alcohol intoxication and insane mind. Rhett talked to nobody, even his son Robert.

Regrettably, Rhett forgot that he had promised Henry Hamilton to visit Suellen at Tara because he was sure that she just wanted his consultation about how to become Scarlett's legal heiress or something like that. In the light of drunken haze, Rhett became so inattentive to details and incapable of cool logical reasoning that he forgot his own estimates of Suellen's question regarding custody of Scarlett's children as eccentric and odd. He noticed that it was entirely strange for Suellen to ask Henry whether Rhett would claim custody over them, but this thought slipped his mind after Henry left his house. He postponed visiting Suellen for the future and was completely absorbed in his grief. At the same time, Suellen caught an infection from her two sick daughters and was confined to bed, waiting for Rhett at Tara. She didn't know about what Rhett was doing and which events in Rhett's life were expected to happen in the near future by Charlestonians.

The only trip Rhett made was the trip to Atlanta to Bonnie and Belle Watling's grave at Oakland cemetery in Atlanta. Although he took Robert with him, Rhett was keeping silent during the whole trip. At Belle's grave Rhett cried hugging his son. They put a large basket of roses on Belle's fresh grave. Rhett's condition worsened on Bonnie's grave when Robert had to back up trembling Rhett in order not to let his large grief-stricken frame drop on the ground.

"My dear Belle, rest to your soul. I am sorry that I didn't attend your funeral. I am sorry that I didn't save you," Rhett whispered hoarsely. Everything whirled around him, and a scream almost rose in his chest, his wild gaze flying to his son's tormented face. "I am sorry, Robert."

"Father, don't blame yourself. You are not guilty," Robert told the distraught Rhett as he leaned down to him and stared at his mother's grave. "I loved her so much, and so did you."

"Belle liked roses," Rhett said with a wayward smile, showing at gorgeous red flowers in the basket.

"Roses were her favorite flowers," Robert said in the tone of grave concern. "When she visited me in New Orleans, she always bought the bouquets of roses as we were walking somewhere in the city center."

"I will miss Belle dearly." Rhett half closed his eyes, sunken into deep, dark hollows.

"And so will I," Robert stated woefully.

"Robert, she was such a great friend for me," Rhett said, his gaze still fixed on Belle's gravestone and the dates of her life.

"I know, father. Mother has always told me that you are her friend and a great man," Robert confessed.

Rhett's black eyes flew to his son's face. "Really?"

Robert nodded. "Yes, father."

Rhett looked at his son, and his heart missed a beat. Robert was nearly seventeen in 1876. He promised to be very handsome boy. His appearance was very similar to that of Rhett as the young boy also had jet-black hair, almost black eyes, and a masculine body. Despite being raised in New Orleans, even Robert's voice was similar to Rhett's well-modulated, drawling Charlestonian voice. There was intelligence in Robert's black eyes. Moreover, there was a direct, honest gaze in his eyes as he wasn't wearing any masks of polite indifference and courtesy. Robert was a natural boy, but it didn't mean that his face was easily readable for an onlooker. He was anyway rather reserved boy, bewildered by life and rather shy. Rhett was happy that Robert's inner world was far from whorehouses, card tables, and saloons, as he hoped that his son with Belle would probably have a more decent, honorable, and even easier life than Rhett had had.

Rhett's gaze flew to Belle's gravestone. "Robert, will you ever be able to forgive me for not recognizing you as my son?" he asked.

Robert shrugged. "I have always known the truth."

Rhett flinched at those words. "Did Belle tell you?"

"No." He shook his head in negative response.

"When how did you know?" Rhett pressed on.

"I felt it. I also guessed as it wasn't difficult. Each time when you came to New Orleans and looked at me, I realized that you had been my father. Then I also realized that you had probably decided not to tell me the truth in order not to make me hate you because you could never have married my mother," Robert verbalized his reasoning.

Rhett was stunned how clever and shrewd his son was. "You are a clever boy," he declared.

Robert shrugged. "Thank you, father."

Tears were pressing at the back of Rhett's eyes. He looked around and noticed that darkness was gradually enveloping Oakland Cemetery. "It is getting dark."

Robert glanced around. Then his hand reached for Rhett's forearm. "Therefore, father, regardless of our tender feelings, we are better to leave now."

"You are right, son," Rhett agreed.

Rhett reached for Robert's shoulder. Then he hugged the boy shortly. It was a warm embrace of two lonely people who had lost a close relative and a good friend.

"Let's go, father," Robert stated as they disentangled from each other.

Rhett nodded. "Let's go."

"Father," the boy called.

Rhett paused and stood rooted. He raised his eyebrows. "What do you want to say?"

"Father, I know that my mother was murdered. What is the sheriff saying about the case?" he asked crisply.

"They don't know who did that. They are in the process of investigation, son." Rhett didn't know what else he could answer to that terrible question that was inwardly tormenting him.

A worried expression flashed at Robert's face. "Will the police ever find a murderer or a murderess?"

Rhett's eyes slid shut. "I don't know, Robert. I hope so." He paused to clear his throat. He opened his eyes and cast an apologetic glance at the young boy. "I promise you that if I learn something new about the case, I will tell you."

"Thank you, father," Robert said softly. "One more question please."

"Go on."

"Are you indeed marrying Mrs Silvia Dawson?"

"I don't know." Rhett only shrugged. "Please let's go."

Without any other words, they headed to the central gates of Oakland Cemetery and left. Neither Rhett nor Robert dared to talk for quite some time. In Atlanta, Rhett visited neither Henry Hamilton's office nor Belle's establishment and went directly the Atlanta National Hotel to spend the night there. Unfortunately, all the room had been reserved in advance, which meant that Rhett and Robert would have to spend the night at the old house on Peachtree Street. The old house on Peachtree Street was a house of ghosts as nobody had been living there for more than two years. The house was quite and dark. There was dust almost everywhere, in each room and each corner, as Scarlett had dismissed all the servants when she had left the South of the United States. Neither Robert nor Rhett were happy to spend the time there, but it seemed to be the only option for them on one night.

Rhett was in no mood to talk to anybody and went directly to his old bedroom. He undressed and collapsed onto the bed, but sleep didn't claim him as memories about Scarlett filled his mind. When a thought of visiting Scarlett's master bedroom popped into his head, he immediately disregarded it as he knew that in that case he wouldn't be able to refrain from complete emotional collapse and breakdown, which he wanted to avoid in front of his son Robert. Finally, when the fatigue entirely captured him, his black eyes closed. However, Rhett still slept badly, making loud sounds of distress. That night Rhett was more or less sober because of Robert.

Robert and Rhett got back to Charleston next day in the morning. Rhett was happy that they met nobody of the gossipmongers, the Old Guard, on their way to the Atlanta train station. During the journey to Charleston, Rhett was keeping silent, while Robert didn't dare to talk to his father, feeling his unbearable pain and his emotional distress. The young boy was very sensitive and understanding and didn't want to disturb his farther.

On the day of their arrival from Atlanta, Rhett was drinking all the day and the following night in his study and in the morning was discovered by Eleanor Butler sleeping on the floor with his head under the chair and his hands folded on the chest. Eleanor was shocked when she looked at her eldest son narrowly as never before had she seen him in such considerable disorder. His handsome, eye-catching appearance deteriorated in a great measure. His eyes were bloodshot from brandy due to vasiodiolation occurring when blood vessels get bigger. Rhett's weight increased largely, and it was clear that the puffiness of his body was directly related to drinking frequency. His cheeks were hollowed and pale. Eleanor also found broken glasses and bottles of brandy on the floor, as well as several empty bottles, two of them broken. Eleanor even recollected the terrible noise of broken glasses, which woke her up in the night. After this, Rhett slept the whole day in his bedroom where his mother and the dark servant Paul took him and put him to bed.

Eleanor Butler tried to understand what happened, but failed to have a normal conversation with Rhett as he didn't answer her questions and said that he was very tired and his life had gone. Rhett rejected Robert's company, and the boy decided to stay away from his father for a while. Unfortunately, Robert knew what happened with Belle because Eleanor told him about the tragedy in one of their frank conversations. They were getting on well with each other. Robert thought that Rhett's emotional havoc and severe drinking were fully attributable to Belle's death.

Alcohol oblivion prevented Rhett from thinking rationally and adequately. The same constant intoxication prevented Rhett from talking to Silvia and Rosemary, and no word was said about the wedding, the date of which was approaching. Each time Rosemary or Silvia tried to talk to Rhett, he screamed "Get out" and made them leave his study room there Rhett was drinking in the daytime and at times even sleeping in the night. At first, Eleanor didn't touch this topic and waited convenient moment to talk. The paradox was that Rhett didn't want to talk not because he wanted to marry but because his mind was socked in fog and his train of thought was immobilized. In the meantime, no official cancellation of the wedding followed because Silvia and Rosemary pretended that nothing happened and Eleanor was just waiting as she was afraid of the scandal and didn't know what was going on with Rhett. The situation was sad and grotesque at the same time.

Once during the night, Rhett's inflamed brain reproduced the most terrible nightmare which a renegade and outcast, like Rhett Butler, has ever had in his life. He dreamed of his body being inserted into vacuum, and in this dream he could neither move nor talk. He witnessed Belle who informed him that time was ripe for her to leave Rhett alone with Scarlett. When Belle's image disappeared, Rhett's glance dropped at Scarlett in a vulgar red gown which he forced her to wear on Ashley's birthday. He saw the water evaporating from her body, transforming to steam. Scarlett was laughing at him and finally told him that her mission now was to head to the kingdom of death by crossing Styx. When all her body submerged in the fog, a kind of bloodcurdling fear transfixed Rhett's body and he woke up in cold sweat with loud cries "She is not dead… She is not dead… Not for me…"

Rhett didn't think about other people sleeping in the house and started crying quietly. Eleanor Butler was awaken by his sorrow outbursts and rushed into his room. When she entered the bedroom, Rhett raised his head and glanced at her with the blankest eyes with tears she had never seen before. Eleanor witnessed a dead man, and this made her heart flinch from the heart-ache. She approached her son and hugged him tightly, surprised by his quick response. However, Rhett refused to talk to her and roared that he wanted to be alone.

Eleanor looked very anxious. "Rhett, we must talk, son."

Rhett shut his eyes. "I want to be alone, mother."

"What is going on with you? What happened?" Eleanor asked with concern, her blue eyes sweeping over the room and staring at Rhett with anguished pleading.

"Nothing." He lied, awkwardly struggling into a sitting position on the bed.

Eleanor wasn't going to capitulate. On the contrary, she was going to make Rhett surrender and have a heart-to-heart talk. "You are not yourself since you came back from Europe."

"Mother, leave me alone," he insisted in a loud voice.

Eleanor frowned in confusion. "No, Rhett. Tell me what happened," she said. "Please tell me, son," she repeated.

Rhett's fists uncertain the blanket clenched. He wanted to be alone. He wasn't ready for his mother's pressure. "I had a bad dream."

Eleanor sighed. She didn't believe his words. "Is it all that bothers you?"

"I always have bad dreams now," he mumbled.

"Rhett, you must stop drinking. In this alcoholic haze you will get sick seriously soon," Eleanor persuaded her son. "Please, son, tell me what is going on with you."

"Please, leave now. I am sorry, but I want to be alone," Rhett cut her off and jerked his face away from her.

"Do you really want me to leave?" Eleanor requested.

Rhett's head fell back onto the fine fur pillows. "Yes, I do," he confessed. "I am very sorry, mother."

Eleanor sighed. "Alright, son."

He closed the eyes, the torment still searing his mind. "I would be better for both of us."

"Goodnight, Rhett," she purred at the doorway.

He swallowed convulsively. "Goodnight, mother." He was happy that finally his mother left him alone, with his thoughts about Scarlett and Belle and about his past sins.

When Eleanor left the bedchamber, Rhett's faded black eyes opened and filled with salty tears that began to race down his cheeks and over his fingers as he cupped his face. Rhett was sitting on the bed and crying in agony. He curled up on his large bed and let his tears fall freely down his swarthy worn-out face. He asked his mother to leave because he hated the idea of crying in front of her. He was known to be a brave, cold, down-to-earth man, and he felt inconvenient crying in front of her mother. Through these hot cascading tears from his eyes, Rhett remembered crying Scarlett in the night when she came to him in Charleston to talk to him about something important and he kicked her out of the house. His memory replayed the day of Melanie's death when she cried in a nearly uncontrollable manner and when through tears she confessed him in her love and asked for forgiveness. A wave of outrageous shame for his behavior overcame his body.

"I lost everything. Bonnie, Scarlett, my unborn child, Belle - they all are dead. They all are dead. Even Ashley Wilkes is dead." There was a flash of genuine sorrow in his dark and tired eyes with tears, "It is only my fault. This is God's punishment for all my sins. This is Hell on Earth. I just hope Scarlett will be able to forgive me if she sees me from Heaven now."

Two small marble plaques, bearing Belle and Scarlett's names and the dates of their both birth and death, were produced at Rhett's request. Still, he could not believe both Belle and Scarlett were no longer alive. Rhett tried to say "dead" about Belle and Scarlett, but he just couldn't. Not in relation to Scarlett. He relatively got accustomed to the thought that Belle had been dead for a month and a half, but for whatever reason Scarlett was still living in his mind.

Rhett spent his dull morning in a routine kind. He was drinking in his study room, sitting at his desk. He rose to his feet and habitually poured himself another glass of whiskey, being done with the first bottle in this day, and settled back in his armchair. As usual, Rhett's intention was to continue drinking from the early morning to be suddenly drunk by late afternoon. He bolted the contents of the glass with one abrupt motion of his arm, and his eyelids went down, leaving his face dark, empty, and void.

His train of thought went to the only woman he ever truly loved, and tears formed in the corners of his sad eyes. He saw this goddess proclaiming her love for him and then laughing at him satirically and scornfully. In his mind, green eyes of a cat locked with his coal eyes, grasped his heart, and were watching him narrowly and with intensity. Rhett was daydreaming of her long ebony hair and soft magnolia-white skin. He saw Scarlett everywhere: in the corner of the room, in his bed, at the table in the living room, on the sofa in the study. The urge to be close to her filled and paralyzed his body, and he couldn't resist it.

His mother entered the study room and looked at Rhett. He didn't see her. Rhett was mumbling suddenly in a low, barely audible voice. "I am entirely dead… I want to see her…"

Eleanor heard this, and her soul and heart collapsed. Frightened for Rhett, Eleanor elected this moment as a reasonable time to talk to her eldest son heart-to-heart. She looked at him sitting in the bed and saw a man facing himself and his world without feeling and hope. She began the conversation.

"Rhett, son, I need to talk to you. You must stop this drinking agony. You are destroying yourself. What is going on with you?" Eleanor asked softly and smiled at him, stroking his hard black hair.

Rhett wasn't inclined to talk to anybody, but his pain was so sharp that he was unable to keep silent any longer. His power of will was broken all into pieces, and he needed to pour his outworn, fossil soul out to somebody. Rhett began the conversation in a hoarse unemotional voice.

"It is Scarlett, mother, she is dead… dead… It happened in London…" Rhett couldn't continue his avowal and resumed crying. His passionate, drunken gaze met his mother's gaze.

Eleanor's blue eyes flashed in pain, her voice edged with regret. "My darling, son, I am so sorry. I didn't know about it…"

Rhett glanced away. "Well, you know now," he said.

"But life is going on. Day is changed by night, and so will happen in your life. Time will take sorrow away," his mother tried to console Rhett.

Rhett's unearthly, dark gaze fixed on his mother. "I loved her so much… She was the only woman whom I truly loved… and whom I will love. I have nothing left to live for. I cannot feel… Don't mind joining Bonnie and Scarlett," he murmured.

"Rhett, son, stop it! You have a son! Robert loves you so much, I am sorry for Scarlett… It is a tragedy, but you have a son," Eleanor objected.

Rhett rose to his feet and poured another glass of whiskey. "You are right, mother. I have nothing, except for Robert."

Eleanor came closer to Rhett. "Robert is such a nice boy. I talked to him, and he adores your courage and intelligence, Rhett. He loves you so much. Don't be so alienated from him." She leaned forward and placed a kiss Rhett's forehead.

Rhett quickly disentangled form her. He wasn't in a mood for endearments. "Mother, in this case you are right. But I feel myself dead… When Bonnie died, I thought that I was dead, but now it is worse..." Rhett said gloomily.

A flash of pain animated Eleanor's face as Rhett mentioned Bonnie. "Rhett, several years passed, and you should feel better. We will always remember Bonnie, but life is not staying on the same place."

"Scarlett and Belle are both dead… There is nothing left in me."

"Rhett, I am very sorry for Scarlett and Belle. My Lord! It is a great tragedy." His mother clapped her hands.

"This is my entire fault that my poor son Robert is an orphan now…" Rhett forced a twisted smile on his haggard face and laughed madly. "I am a great person, mother! You should be proud of me as a son."

"It is not your fault… Rhett, you are not yourself, my dear, my precious son… You will get better soon."

"Belle and Scarlett mocked at me calling me the great Rhett Butler… I am so great from by toes to the crown… Great in my misery," he dramatically crossed arms on his large chest as his life was losing its tarnish each minute. "They were right… They warned me, but I didn't listen. Mother, I am sick of frantic guilt… I broke Scarlett, and fate broke me in punishment. I am on the road to hell now."

Eleanor drew a deep, audible breath. "Son, stop drinking and shutting yourself in this study room. Think about your son. Robert needs a mother, and you haven't cancelled the wedding with Silvia."

Eleanor hoped that Rhett would step on the reasonable ground soon. She believed from the bottom of her heart that Rhett would be able to overcome the hardships and that a new proper wife will help him do it. She approached Rhett and hugged him about his shoulders.

Rhett pushed her hands away from him and threw in his throat the whole glass of whiskey. "Mother, please leave me in peace. I want to be alone."

"I understand that you had to go through Scarlett's death and the death of Robert's mother, but life isn't finished, son. You are strong and will make it through." Eleanor paused. Her voice was high-pitched and confident.

Rhett rolled his eyes. "Go on, please."

"I understand how fresh the scars on your heart are, but very soon you have a scheduled wedding with Silvia. I don't want another scandal, Rhett. Enough scandals happened around our family."

"I don't care, mother. The only thing I care for is this bottle of whiskey," Rhett frowned in the defeat in front of his fate and laughed bitterly.

Eleanor's blue eyes revealed great pain. "My poor son…"

"It helps me to take my mind off my turpitude and remorse."

"Son, I know that you are suffering… My poor son… God never gives more than you can survive through," a soprano sally from Eleanor's mouth followed. "Stop drinking, Rhett. I am appealing to you. You must stop drinking."

"Mother, I cannot stop. I don't have any strength. I am broken." A strong wave of nonchalance and torpor fulgurated through his tone.

"Rhett, you must stop drinking in either case," she insisted.

Rhett raised his voice. "Don't you see that I am broken? Don't you see that I will never become the old Rhett!" He raised his voice. "I am broken! I am broken!" he cried out in despair.

"I know what will help you, son. You cannot be alone… You need a fresh start," Eleanor subsided.

"I don't know what I need, mother. Please leave," Rhett half pleaded, half ordered.

"Son, we need to talk… I am thinking about you and the Butler family as a whole. At first the scandal when you claimed Robert, then a scandal with Robert's mother unexpected death!"

Rhett didn't like where the conversation was going. "What else do you want to say, mother?"

"She was murdered, and it is another spot on the Butler name… Most importantly, I want your happiness and renewed start," Eleanor said firmly.

"Mother, I am so tired and incapable of feeling something… I am dead inside… completely dead," Rhett mumbled. He felt a shaft of pain near his heart. He felt the pain every time he thought about Scarlett.

"Son, I know! My dear son, you need to find your peace."

He shook his head in disagreement. "It is impossible."

"It is possible, son," Eleanor objected. "I am thinking about your future and about our reputation. Silvia cannot be blamed for what happened, and she loves you so much, darling. She can become a mother to Robert and you can have more children…" Eleanor insisted on, being blinded with traditional care for respectability and reputation of the family.

"Again reputation… You know I never cared for it," Rhett paused, his thoughts travelling back to his past with Scarlett and their marriage when his mother mentioned Silvia.

"Rhett, please… I am very old, sick, and will go to your father soon. I want to know that you have a family and live a proper life," the assured voice of his mother sliced through Rhett's mind as a day-dream.

"Mother, I understand your position, but I am incapable of a clear reasoning now. I am dead in all my wishes, emotions, and feelings because Scarlett, my beloved Scarlett… is dead…"

"Rhett, I understand, but you need a fresh start that will help you lick your wounds," Eleanor repeated and added, "Think about it reasonably, son."

"Mother, I don't care when I will die and where… Death or life buried alive? What is better?" Rhett wasn't able to finish and paused, laughed sardonically. He supplemented his speech: "I know that it is so uncharacteristic of me… I have never thought that such a thought will ever pop into my head as I have never been so broken and apathetic to everything."

"Stop these thoughts, Rhett! I love you and understand you, darling. But pain will fade away over time, believe me, son. You have a son who needs the reputation of the whole family," Eleanor implored.

"Mother, I care for nothing now… I am not interested in myself and my fate…" Rhett countered.

"Rhett, please, listen to me. My last will is to see how you settle down and help me revitalize the reputation of the Butler family, son. If you don't want to do it for yourself, do it for me and for your son Robert who needs your reputation. Don't disgrace us and risk Robert's access to respectful society."

He turned to her. The anger and pain remained in his face. "Mother, please…" he paused. "You know that I love Robert."

"Rhett, please don't degrade us more. I tried to save our reputation after you claimed Robert. It was very difficult to achieve," Eleanor said coaxingly.

"I am happy that you managed to do it, mother. Thank you very much," Rhett emptied another glass of whiskey, being done with the half of second bottle in this day.

Eleanor inhaled deeply and audibly. Then she exhaled. "If you cancel the wedding, everything will be ruined. Robert and Rosemary's future will be destroyed," Eleanor continued to press on Rhett. She took another breath for courage. "Everybody talks that Robert's mother was a loose woman. Rhett, don't destroy your son."

A longstanding depressing silence hung over them. Rhett was thinking of what to do. The truth was that he didn't care for himself and what would happen with him, being drained of all emotions. His heart was a large open wound, his soul was bleeding and his eyes were fading away. He loved his mother and didn't want to disappoint her, but he didn't love Silvia. However, Silvia pretended that nothing happened between them as if he had never told her that their engagement was cancelled. Then he remembered that his Scarlett was dead and wished him to be happy without her in her last note, and all his life was dead forever. He was punished for all his past sins and transgressions, and he knew that he needed to do something honorable in his miserable life, how he called it.

Rhett's mind again and again replayed how much innocent blood was on his hands - Bonnie, his unborn child, Belle, and Scarlett, some other people from his doubtful past, the death of whom he ascribed at least partly to himself. He killed a man in a duel in Charleston a long time ago and a darkie who insulted a white woman. He didn't want more blood on his hands. No, Rhett couldn't allow his own mother to suffer so much, even if the reason for her internal tumult and excruciation was stupid and ridiculous care for reputation and respectability. He was a scoundrel, but certainly he wasn't an immoral beast. He sighed heavily again and again, again and again, but he didn't feel that he exhaled and inhaled. Rhett closed his eyes and cursed himself and his fate for the millionth time, but it didn't help him when he opened his dead eyes. The air and everything around him were suffocating him, and he couldn't escape from this shortness of fresh breath. Terrible gasp didn't release hold of him. He had nowhere to escape to. It was a dead end.

"You need someone to heal your wounds. Let it be Silvia. Scarlett would want you to be happy…" Eleanor broke the silence and continued her pleas, "Rhett, this is my last will to see you married to a proper lady and to live in peace and tranquility."

Rhett was keeping silent, absorbed in his thoughts, and Eleanor made last her attempt.

"Rhett, please, for me, don't crash our lives. My last will is to see you here in Charleston married to a proper lady like Silvia. I also want Robert not to repeat your mistakes. He has to live and become a gentleman in a respectful family. Besides, if you marry, Silvia Ferdinanda will help you recover over time," Eleanor nearly moaned. "I want only the best for you. I truly believe that you will be able to open a new page in your life soon."

"It sounds like a fairy-tale for me… I don't care for myself, but I don't want to have more blood on my hands by making you suffer because of the scandal and having heart attack. Besides, my life is so miserable that maybe God will send me quick death in the nearest future if I do something else honorable." Rhett shook his head in disbelief.

He stretched out his long legs and laughed bitterly with indignation and disdain to his misery. Over and over again he remembered Scarlett's last letter to him, which he collected at the Marchmont Hall in London. Did she want him to be happy without her? In his alcoholic haze he didn't consider this letter strange, but in fact he believed it. He saw her signature which he knew by heart.

"Son, you shouldn't say such things because this is against God's will! I am sure that if Scarlett cared for you, she would want you to be happy… It is pity that she died…" Eleanor hugged him, but Rhett escaped her embrace.

"She didn't like pity, mother, because she was my Scarlett."

"Rhett, you won't cancel the wedding, will you?" Eleanor entreated.

Rhett cleared her throat. "I won't cancel this damned wedding," he spat with rage.

There was tired dispassionateness, calmness, and resignation to fate in his voice. He was so tired. He stood up from the chair, stepped to the window, not looking at her, but suddenly turned around, and stepped back to the same chair. He sprawled back to the chair, lowered the head so that his chin was on his breast. His coal eyes were closed. All his movements were strained, awkward, and tired.

She forced herself to look into his black eyes. "Thank you, Rhett. I feel a great relief."

Rhett looked away. He didn't want any eye contact with his mother. "You should know that after the wedding nothing will change in my life. I mean my lifestyle. Moreover, I will have separate bedrooms with Silvia. If you want this masquerade, I will do this so-called honorable thing. The fact that Robert was raised in his previous status is my entire fault. I don't want more pain and rotten-hearted future for him." All his talk was in a monotone, impersonal way.

"Rhett, my son, I…" Eleanor nearly groaned, but he interrupted her.

"I don't want your blood on my hands," Rhett voiced his reasoning. He took from the nearby desk a glass of whiskey and emptied it with one abrupt movement. He repeated: "I don't want any more blood on my hands."

"Rhett, you cannot have separate bedrooms with Silvia. You should have more children with her, Rhett. My darling, it will save your life. Believe me, son," Eleanor demurred at Rhett's speech.

"I know by myself whether I want more children or not. I will talk to Silvia on the wedding night. What a surprise she will have when I ask her to sleep in another room," Rhett let out an ill-favored laugh.

"It is not proper to talk about such private things." Eleanor's face turned crimson in embarrassment as an agonizing wave of shame assailed her. "One day you can change this decision, son."

"Never!" he uttered furiously.

Rhett threw at his mother a tired, spleenful glance, but he didn't dare waste the time arguing with her. He wanted her to leave. Silvia Ferdinanda would never share his bed, he vowed fitfully. Their past nights with Scarlett were swept away, and nobody else could give him in intimacy what she was able to give.

"Why shouldn't you be a proper husband, Rhett?"

Rhett forced out a sad laugh, ignoring Eleanor's question. "Ha!" he thundered. "Imagine, my dear mother, how shocked Silvia will be on the wedding night. I can even imagine how her sweet smile will fade away from her plain face."

"Rhett, please respect Silvia. You shouldn't be talking about her in such a rude manner."

Rhett burst into uncontrollable laugh. "Mother, I will talk as I wish," he remarked. "What a self-masquerade we are doing…"

Eleanor raised her brows. "Rhett, son, what are you talking about?"

Rhett was very angry – angry at himself, at his mother, at everybody. In his outrage, Rhett slammed loudly and hard his desk. The papers from it took sweep to the floor. Then Rhett pushed the desk and capsized it, which produced a very loud noise. "Only because of you and for Robert's future, I won't cancel the wedding."

"Rhett…" Eleanor was startled with Rhett's physical expression of anger.

To her surprise, he reached out to her and gently touched her arm. "Forgive me for my crashing down that table. I am simply angry, mother. You have to understand."

"Rhett, son, I understand."

"I don't think so," he spat.

"Rhett, this wedding will be only for your own good. You need to settle down and leave the past behind. You are not getting younger," his mother replied. She hoped that would change his decision relative separate bedrooms.

"I told you that we would never become a true married couple with Silvia. I will never touch her as my wife, even if I am extremely overindulged with alcohol."

Eleanor was in despair. She cast a helpless glance at Rhett. "Why is it so, Rhett? Silvia is a nice lady."

Rhett gave to her a half shrug. "Mother, I am not physically attracted to Silvia. She is too plain for me. Besides, I don't want to have children by her."

"Rhett, please, be proper!" Eleanor raised her voice. "Son, please think better about your relations with Silvia."

"Mother, I have already said my final word. The theme is closed."

Eleanor stared at him with pleading eyes. "But Rhett…"

Rhett interrupted her. He turned his back to Eleanor. He didn't want to look into her blue eyes. "Are you satisfied? The fate strips my life into many small pieces because of my former victims and sins… Now, please, leave," he threw over his shoulder and gritted his teeth.

"Rhett, son…" Eleanor's eyes rounded in confusion, and she turned her head away.

"Please, mother, leave me in my… erm… accursed desolation," Rhett bawled out in complete despair and desire to be alone in his pain. He repeated, his coal eyes narrowing with dislike: "Please, leave me alone."

"Rhett, don't be rude!" Eleanor raised her voice. "And you will not speak to me in that tone of voice."

"Will I not?" Rhett asked, his spirit springing to life. "I will do, mother, precisely as I please, especially after all what you asked me to do and I agreed with you."

"I am sorry if I distracted you," she said with difficulty.

"Mother, did you need to take quite so much pleasure in my resistance to this marriage?" Rhett half exasperated, half mocked.

"Well, I tried, darling, I tried," Eleanor parried. She laughed reluctantly in an effort to talk of something else. Anxious, uncertain, and dreading the evening ahead, she rose to her feet and started walking towards the door.

"You tried very hard, my dear mother," Rhett retorted. His voice was edged with anger.

Eleanor paused at a doorway and turned around to Rhett. "I did what I had to do to protect our family. Son, I know how much you are suffering now. And I hate that now I have to press on you to marry. But I am looking into the future – you need a wife and a proper wife. Silvia will be a good wife. In the meantime, we must do everything possible to avoid the new scandal around our name. This is for Robert's sake, Rhett. I hate to say this, Rhett, but you have done enough to deprive your own son of a proper life. Now we have to correct your mistakes. Please try to understand my position."

"You can say whatever you want, mother. I said that I would never consummate my marriage with Silvia. It is enough that I agreed not to cancel the engagement and to marry her. I am doing this for you and Robert, not for me. I don't care for her. My only beloved woman died," Rhett said sternly. His voice was shaking from anguishes in his heart. He didn't look at Eleanor as he spoke. "Now please leave. Right now."

Eleanor turned around. Her hand was on the knob of the door, she stopped for an instance and looked back at Rhett, apparently thinking of saying something else. However, she comprehended that Rhett wouldn't listen to her. Then she walked away from the room.

She loved Rhett, but she also was a classic, proper lady from a highly conservative society. She cared for her family's respectability and reputation. Furthermore, she was old and didn't want to leave her family in such dreadful misery they lived in now. She truly believed that another marriage would save Rhett and help him start from the clear page. She also was convinced that Rhett's marriage would produce a good family for Robert who has never had a proper complete family with a father and a mother. Eleanor cared for Robert's future reputation very much. With her old believes and conservancy, nothing could over-persuade Eleanor Butler.

* * *

_The culmination of Act II is in between Chapter 44 and Chapter 47. The end of Act II will be in Chapter 49._

_Be aware that there will be Act V as I look on the emotional background very deeply, which in Act III turned out to be much more difficult than I planned. I just want to pack a lot in this story. Don't forget about the mystery line that is also very complicated to write._


	43. Chapter 43

**Chapter 43**

**The aftermath of the tragedy: in England**

It was an early morning in the middle of June in London, but it was cold and raining, and fog misted the vacuum of the streets. A lady with wide grey eyes, in a black mourning gown was lying on the large bed and looking at the window in the darkness and emptiness of street. She was Annabelle de Robillard who managed to survive through the recent poisoning. While she recovered, her cousin Geoffroy and young Charles died. What a calamity it was!

Annabelle was still sick from poison that accumulated in the cells of her body and felt dizzy and sore, as if she has returned from hell recently. In substance, she was in hell or in heaven. It was hard for her to realize what happened, how it could happen, and what she needed to do. In the past two weeks she lost time and volume orientation. Nevertheless she was alive, although still sick, however, less sick than the green-eyed, raven-haired lady, her third cousin and friend Scarlett, who still hasn't awaken from her abysmal, deep-drawn swoon.

_Marguerite Marie Gabrielle de Robillard de Bréveaux, Duchess de Ventadour,_ and her son _Patrick Walter Campbell, 8th Earl of Marchmont, _were happy that Annabelle had survived. They were very anxious about Scarlett, but hoped that she would make it through. Marguerite spent almost all her time with Scarlett near head bed. Lord Marchmont also was very attentive to Annabelle. Worried about Scarlett and Annabelle, the Duke of Aylesbury called on them every day. _Vittorio Amedeo Alberto di Savoia, the Duke of Naples_, was almost always around. Aylesbury had just returned from Paris after Geoffroy and Charles's funeral. He told that Geoffroy's twin Armand felt very bad: absorbed in himself, he wasn't eating, sleeping, and talking. Armand was severely affected by his brother's death.

Abstracted in her thoughts, Annabelle reached up and absently rubbed her left cheek where it seemed to her that it had slightly tickled. A moment later, her neck tickled, and she reluctantly rubbed it there. Next she felt as though the tickle had switched to somewhere higher than her left ear. She shook her head violently in order to stop the sensation, suddenly realizing that she had just imagined those tickles. She was so tensed that all her sensations had strengthened twofold, if not threefold. Her blood could surge madly through her veins and then could freeze as though it had stopped leaking or being drained. Annabelle could remain visibly more or less calm, with impenetrable face, keeping silent and thinking, as though being mesmerized by something, while in a minute every nerve could be shrieking from the tight, almost painful tension in her body, but she never had showed this. Her mood was so unstable that rage beyond anything she had ever known could have boiled up inside and then, without a sound and any reason, it could dissolve from her heart swelled with fear, pain, and despair.

The kindness and courtesy of the servants, who had always brought to her room a tray with delicious French or English food for breakfast, lunch, or dinner and who seemed to take such a genuine, delighted interest in her health, did nothing to alleviate her nervousness. Annabelle didn't even try to create a semblance of pretense at politeness. Her manners were sharp, mainly due to strengthened aloofness and mental estrangement in her grieves. Instead, she usually nodded to the servants curtly, indicating they were dismissed and must have left the room. Nevertheless, when her stony gaze occasionally fell at Marguerite, her granite features softened and her grey eyes warmed, as if she understood how much Marguerite had done for her and for Scarlett in the past days. Annabelle's anger and anxiety abruptly evaporated at the unmistakable sincerity and kindness she heard in Marguerite's quiet, soft velvet voice and at the sadness she saw in her hazel eyes.

Annabelle was in the study room. She was sitting in the high back chair near the window. Her gaze was wandering the room and fixed at the wall decorated with swords, shields, javelins, suits of armor, chain armors, and many other attributes of knights, which were so much loved by the Earl of Marchmont, the collector of the medieval chivalrous weapons. She smiled bitterly at the thought that her heartache could easily be compared to a stab of a sword or a javelin. Her heart swelled with this nagging pain so much that it was painful even to breathe.

She got to her feet and went to the table where her correspondence for the last two weeks was waiting for her. In the aftermath of the tragedy, she had neither time nor desire to look through the correspondence. Annabelle quickly looked through the letters in the huge pile and stopped on one of them. It was the letter from their aunts Eulalie and Pauline Robilliard. Annabelle was informed that Scarlett had to meet with Rhett Butler after the art event at the National Gallery. After the tragedy, no word was received from Rhett, and Annabelle didn't know where he disappeared and why he disappeared. She didn't know whether he was in London or left for the States, but guessed that he was more than likely to leave England.

Now, when Annabelle saw the letter from Eulalie and Pauline Robillard from Charleston in the pile of letters, it attracted her attention. All the more, the letter was addressed to both Scarlett and Annabelle. She took the envelope in her hands and opened it. She unfolded the sheet of paper and began to read. The letter reported that well-known Rhett Butler was going to marry in two weeks.

_Dear Scarlett and Annabelle,_

_We hope that this letter finds both of you well in London. Your lawyer from Savannah informed us that you are currently in London and will be there for sometime thereafter. Being aware of it, we are writing to both of you at Marguerite's address in London._

_Eulalie is feeling much better now. The doctor told us that she would recover completely in a week. In the last weeks, I was always near her bedside. Thanks Lord, she is healing each day._

_In one of her letters Scarlett asked us to come to London in the spring or in the summer, but due to Eulalie's recent sickness we were unable to do it in the spring._

_We regret to inform you, our darlings, that in June we cannot join you in Europe. The reason is that we were invited to Rhett Butler's wedding scheduled for June 30. We cannot reject Eleanor Butler's invitation because she is one of our closest friends. Moreover, we were committed to help Eleanor and Rosemary with the organization of the wedding, but had to miss the majority of the preparations due to Eulalie's sickness. In the remaining two weeks we plan to join Eleanor in their preparations for the grandest wedding in the history of Charleston._

_We hope for your understanding. We are hugging both of you and Scarlett's children whom we have never seen, unfortunately. We are looking forward to seeing these two small little angels and are sure that they are as charming as their mother. We will be glad to visit you in Paris in August._

_Our warmest regards to you,_

_Eulalie and Pauline_

Attacked with a new tide of nervousness as she contemplated what she was about to do, Annabelle fixed her eyes on the sheet of paper and scanned the text. A wicked grimace came across her face. Her heart was hammering so hard from anger and rampage that it was nearly bursting through her basque. She tried to draw deep breath to compose her soul, but her corset was too tight even on her currently lean body. Annabelle was afraid of fainting as nausea crashed her down, and, waggling and trembling in her whole body, she settled in a sofa. In several minutes, her sickening feeling gradually became to depart her body, and Annabelle roared for her maid to come.

"Mathilde, where are you? Why should I be shouting and raising my voice?" a grey-eyed lady shrilled at her maid, losing her temper.

"Madame Annabelle, what happened? I am sorry…" the maid was stammering. She was frightened of her mistress's recent short temper and dreadful mood, quite understandable, however, in the light of the calamity that unfolded in the family.

"Immediately start packing our things. Take with us some colorful dresses. I am fed up with this ugly black on me. You and I are travelling tomorrow to Southampton and then to the United States, to the South. Ask Penny to order two tickets for first class cabin, boarding in Southampton with destination for Charleston," Annabelle ordered imperatively and looked blankly at her maid. Now her mask went back on her pale face, and her eyes were dull and expressed absolutely nothing.

"Yes, Madame Annabelle. Only you and I are travelling?" Mathilde was anxious, but the grey-eyed lady interrupted her.

"Yes, I said to buy two tickets. You should better listen more attentively and not make me repeat my instructions," the mistress answered to her maid.

"Madame, I am sorry… I am very sorry… How is Madame Scarlett? Madam Marguerite is with her now," Mathilde politely said.

"Scarlett is still in a semi-comatose state of mind, but anyway better than two weeks ago, as Doctor Broussard told me yesterday," Annabelle sat down in front of her vanity table and looked at her face in the mirror. She was so thin, like mere skin and bones, with dark circles under her beautiful eyes. A tree of blue veins was visible on her neck.

"Madame, I am sorry for the question, but what will doctors say? You cannot travel, you are sick… And police…" the maid inquired her mistress again.

"There is too much anxiety because of nothing, Mathilde. It is out of your business. I will travel. I am fine," Annabelle was motionless and stared in one point ahead. "Please, ask somebody to come to our friend _Duke Vittorio Amedeo di Savoia's_ residence in Chelsea and request his audience for me today."

"Yes, Madame, I will do it. Sorry for asking questions. Do you need something else from me?" Mathilde requested, standing at the doorway.

"No, thank you very much, Mathilde. Find your way out now and hurry up," Annabelle demanded in a hoarse voice. She stood up, went to the window and stared outside.

Mathilde was anxious about Annabelle's absence of appetite and her extreme thinness. "Maybe, you will have a breakfast with Madame Marguerite. The breakfast is served in hour."

"No, Mathilde. I don't have appetite, but thank you for asking. Tell Marguerite that I won't come to breakfast," Annabelle looked at her tiny fingers and stared attentively at the fingernail zone that became a little dark-blue from poison on her hands which she folded on her lap. Her skin had to restore over time, as the doctors said. Now she had to wear gloves everywhere.

"Yes, I will do, Madame. Now I am leaving with your favor," Mathilde mumbled and bowed.

"So many words, Mathilde! Please, leave and send another maid to Vittorio's residence as quickly possible. You should stay here in case I need you," Annabelle said in a coarse voice.

"Yes, Madame Annabelle…" a girl uttered meekly under her breath.

"Leave, please. Get out!" Annabelle growled between her teeth.

Mathilde stepped backward to the door. "I am sorry, Madame Annabelle."

"I accept your apology. Now go away."

Now Annabelle knew what she had to do. She will go to Charleston and talk to Rhett Butler. It seemed to be the only possible way out of the situation, if Rhett Butler was too bull-headed or too empty-headed, whatever, to marry Silvia Dawson. She will do it despite her feeling unwell and the necessity to cross the Atlantic Ocean to stop this wedding. She was full of determination to meet Rhett Butler. Annabelle got to her feet and approached the chest of drawers. She opened one of the drawers and took the letter which Scarlett wrote to Rhett about their children half a year ago. The letter was undated and Annabelle was going to use it for her conversation with Rhett Butler.

Annabelle made her way upstairs to Scarlett's bedchamber and came inside. Annabelle was afraid that green-eyed elfin's illness would turn for the worst during her journey to the States, but she needed to proceed with her trip as quickly as possible. Scarlett was lying on her huge bed and looked ghostly pale and thin, like she lost around at least six-seven kilos. She was so vulnerable, innocent, and childlike that Annabelle's heart pounded with triple frequency. She promised to do everything possible to stop this absurd wedding if only God helps her to be there on time. Annabelle hated both Silvia and Rosemary. She saw Marguerite in the chair near Scarlett's bed. Marguerite raised her head and looked at Annabelle.

"Annabelle, darling, how are you? You didn't have breakfast again!" Marguerite yammered. Her hazel eyes flew to Annabelle's, a combination of reproach and anxiety obvious in their depths.

"Dear Marguerite, I will be fine, don't worry. I don't want to eat," Annabelle answered shortly.

"Annabelle, you must take care of yourself. You are so thin! You need more good nourishment. Doctor Broussard told us that you need meal containing exorbitant ferrum and proteins."

"Don't worry, Marguerite. I am taking Doctor Broussard's pills twice per day and will continue during the next months, as he prescribed. How is Scarlett?" Annabelle looked at Scarlett's tiny frame on the bed.

Marguerite glanced at her depressingly, with yearnful eyes. "She is delirious and asked for her father and mother, you, Isabelle, and Blanche. I think she is wandering somewhere in the past. Unfortunately, she hasn't awakened yet, but she half opened her eyes one time."

"Is that all for whom she was calling? Doctor told us that she would awake then her body clears from toxins which may take several months. Let's hope for the best," Annabelle pronounced and her gaze fell on Scarlett's calm body. Her heart lighter in her breast at this thought, she nodded her head.

"No, she was also calling for Rhett and many times."

"I can imagine," Annabelle said in a suffocated whisper.

"Who is Rhett?"

"Rhett is her former husband. They had divorced right before she got married to _Marquis Mathieu de__Bréval_," Annabelle specified.

"I heard what this odious man had done with Scarlett," Marguerite said with venom, so unusual for this gentle woman. "I just didn't know his name."

"Both of them are guilty in the divorce, but Rhett Butler is responsible for the deal because he is a man," Annabelle supplemented.

"Naturally," Marguerite said. "How can a man divorce such a lady like Scarlett? She is a treasure! It is so brutal!"

"Oh, Marguerite, forget this old story," Annabelle offered. "I will be off to the United States tomorrow in the morning. It is an urgent trip."

"But Annabelle, you cannot travel! No, I won't let you leave this house," Marguerite countered crispy.

"Marguerite, I will travel because I need to do it. I am fine." Annabelle raised her voice considerably and immediately came to her senses. "I am sorry for raising my voice… I am just not myself now."

Marguerite got the point that it was no use to counter Annabelle. "Darling, I understand that you are very emotionally fragile underneath your skin now. I will take care of Scarlett. If you need, then travel. But, please, promise me to follow all Doctor Broussard's prescriptions."

"Thank you, Marguerite. I will continue taking antidote of the poison as it was prescribed. Let's send for Scarlett's children to Paris. Will you do it for me?" Annabelle wanted Blanche and Isabelle to be in London in case she brings Rhett Butler with her.

"Yes, I will, darling. Please, don't forget about the nourishment. You need it to recover, Annabelle."

"Rhett…" Scarlett whispered.

"I hope they will rot in hell," Annabelle pronounced with clenched teeth.

"Annabelle, whom do you mean?" bewildered Marguerite was at loss of words.

"Don't… leave me…" Scarlett babbled in a very low voice. Annabelle heard her words because she leaned down to her friend's face very closely.

"I mean those beasts that poisoned us. They should be anathematized," Annabelle raised her head and snapped maliciously. She said "those beasts" because she didn't exclude that Rosemary and Silvia acted in collusion as she could only guess who the villain was.

Naked, uncontrollable, harrowing pain had slashed across her features before Annabelle managed to bring herself under some control with the help of her usual aloofness and arrogance, but in that instant Marguerite saw the torment beneath the facade of her soul. Her eyes widened until they were huge, expressive grey orbs; her soft lips parted in distress. She remembered Geoffroy and Charles, alive and happy, and felt her heart missing a beat. She imagined how Armand had been suffering as though she had seen his very light pale green eyes filled with hot tears. Tears of outrage sprang into her eyes. But more than anything, Annabelle wished Geoffroy and Charles to be alive. More than anything she wished to take Armand into her arms and ease the pain in his heart, but she knew that it would never be enough to ease his pain.

Annabelle hissed: "I hate a person who murdered them."

"Rhett…" Scarlett drew pain-edged breath, and Annabelle heard her last word.

"I was thinking about Armand," Annabelle whispered. "He is in Paris…"

"I know that Armand is too distressed. The Duke of Aylesbury told me that poor boy hadn't being eating and sleeping."

"I hope he will cope," Annabelle paused and sighed, "but I am afraid we will always feel very strongly bad about this tragedy."

"Undoubtedly, we will never forget, but pain will ease over time, Annabelle."

Annabelle wasn't sure that her pain would ever cease to torment her heart and her soul. She had already accustomed to the fact that everybody who had been a treasure for her had eventually died. She got accustomed to be _femme fatale_. "Perhaps," she said quietly.

"I am afraid you are going to have to forgive me for distracting you, but I insist on you having your rest now," Marguerite said.

"Alright," Annabelle nodded. "I will try."

As Annabelle left Scarlett's bedchamber, she nearly wedged in Marguerite's son Lord Marchmont. Obviously, he was looking for his mother in Scarlett' room. He looked as dashing as always in his beige three-piece day suite, the white shirt, the dark grey cravat, the black gloves, and the black bowler hat. Annabelle stepped aside and glared at him in an ambiguous way, her brain registering that the man in from of her was the Earl of Marchmont. She shut her eyes. As Marchmont stared at Annabelle, his gaze caught her uneasiness and it seemed to him that she was about to lose her balance and faint. Knowing that she was rather weak from her sickness, Lord Marchmont stepped forward to Annabelle. As she again stared at him, she realized what he was up to do. Words of protest rose in her throat, only to die as she glanced at him and saw in his blue eyes the intent determination to stump all her objections. Marchmont didn't give her time to think. He scooped Annabelle up in his arms with the intention to carry her to her bedroom.

"Annabelle, darling, please don't protest. I will carry you to your room," Marchmont warned in his sonorous voice.

Annabelle smiled at him. "Patrick, please put me on my legs," she asked.

He looked at her with an unhesitating gaze. "I won't do it. I have to take care of you." He paused as they turned to the left in the dim corridor. "I thought you are about to faint."

She shot him a perplexed look. "No, I am not," she contradicted.

"It didn't appear so when you left Scarlett's room."

"Patrick, I only shut my eyes."

"Don't argue with me," he said in metallic voice. "You are still sick and must have your rest."

"This is precisely what I have just promised your mother."

"Very well then," he said as he opened the door to Annabelle's room with the interior in the Rococo style. He went inside, slamming the door shut behind them with one shove of his broad shoulder. Then he headed to the large bed decorated in _Louis XVI style_.

"Very well," she echoed.

Slowly Marchmont lowered Annabelle's slim body to the large French bed made from mahogany wood with beautiful gold and silver ornamentation in the form of the gilded leaves. The hand-made carvings of the bed headboard were covered with gold foil and the precious rubbed velvet of lavender color. The delicate inlays of the dressing and the bedside tables were made with rosewood and ash briarwood. Everything in the room created an epitome of the Rococo style: the ceiling was in gold and white; the walls were painted in lavender color and decorated with Marquetry using veneers; the huge large-framed mirror was on the wall opposite the bed; two chairs near the window and two armchairs in the left part of the room from the bed were upholstered with vivid embroidery; the chest of drawers, the boudoir, and the small table between two armchairs and that near the window were gilded.

Then Marchmont came to the small table near the window and took one double-branched candlestick. He went back to the bed and put the candlestick on the bedside table. He lit the candles and knelt near Annabelle. His head lifted, and they stared at each other in the golden glow of the candles.

"Now it is better as you are in the bed."

"It is worse," she retorted.

Marchmont smiled in a melancholic manner. "It is better because I won't be anxious that you can lose your footing somewhere in the house."

"I agree that it is possible in this house," Annabelle muttered. "It is very dark in many rooms."

The Earl of Marchmont rubbed his nose. "Unfortunately, now it has to be dark in the whole house, not only because the interior is done in the Neo-Romanesque style, which you love so much to point out in order to mock me."

"It must be dark now," she whispered. Her gaze wandered to two funeral wreaths on the floor. "It must be very dark."

Catching the direction of her gaze and seeing the flowers, Marchmont sighed heavily. "The flowers are definitely my mother's touch."

Annabelle stared at him with pain in her grey eyes. "I know that it was Marguerite who ordered these wreaths and those magnificent baskets of flowers spread on the floor both in the parlor and in the grand hall."

Marchmont shook his head. A little frown marred his expansive forehead. "You are right." His blue eyes were sad.

"It was very kind of your mother to order them," Annabelle commented.

"She had to do it," he said dolefully.

Annabelle tossed her head in disbelief. "I cannot believe that it happened. Why did they die?" Her voice was shaking.

"Darling, please don't think about it. Otherwise you won't be able to carry on. I know that they think you to be a cold, indifferent _femme fatale_, but I know that it is not true. Without this mask, you are always kind and warm. Therefore, I understand how much you are suffering now."

"Oh, Patrick," she uttered. She swallowed hard.

"Yes, my dear sister," he said in a gentle voice.

"Thank you, my dear brother," she answered with gratitude.

The Earl of Marchmont and Annabelle de Robillard were the third cousins, not very close relatives. At the same time, they were the only people among the Robillards who were half Scottish by birth. Although Annabelle never liked her Scottish blood because her mother Gwendolyn's family banned her from the house after she had got married to a French nobleman, Annabelle's father Vincent de Robillard. Annabelle had always had a particular affection to Marchmont. She often felt that he was like her elder brother whom she had never had. Marchmont felt the same, but, in contrast to Annabelle, he was proud of his half Scottish blood. In general, both of them were a fine product of the mixture of Scottish and French blood. They were so close in their relations that often addressed to each other as a brother or a sister.

"I am traveling to the United States very soon," Annabelle declared.

Marchmont looked suspiciously at her. "Are you sure that you can do this trip now?"

"I must do it," she retorted.

Marchmont smiled heartily at her. "What is going on, sister? Tell me."

Annabelle sighed. "Patrick, I have to stop one wedding."

"Do you mean the wedding of Scarlett's former husband?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"That man made our Scarlett suffer so much! Perhaps, it is better to let him marry that lady from Charleston," he assumed.

"No, Patrick."

The sapphire blue eyes flashed with fire. "Why?"

"Scarlett loves him," Annabelle replied confidently.

He rose from his knees and sat on the edge of the bed. "Annabelle, does that man love her?"

Annabelle nodded. "Yes, he does. But it is a tormenting love. And they both are fools," she vocalized.

"We all are fools."

"Patrick, I can only agree."

"It appears that you must go to the United States soon."

"Tomorrow I will depart for Southampton and board the ship for Charleston," she clarified.

"Must I go with you?" Marchmont asked.

Annabelle smiled at him. "Patrick, I will be fine. Please don't be so concerned."

"I am always concerned if you have problems," he replied genuinely.

She glared up at him, the grey eyes shining with benevolence. "I know."

Marchmont furrowed. "Annabelle, I also meant that you are a fool because you don't plan to find _Marquis François de Saint-Hérem_. I think that you must do this now when you know that he is alive."

Annabelle told only Scarlett and Lord Marchmont about her true feelings for François, her only true love. At first, only Marchmont knew why Annabelle had nearly gone mad as she had thought that François was killed in one of the battles in _the_ _Franco-Prussian War of 1870-1871._ As Annabelle got acquainted to Scarlett who was so much alike her, she also told Scarlett the truth.

Annabelle feverously tossed her head, as though in despair. "Never say this! Never, Patrick! Never!"

The blue eyes revealed confusion. "Why, sister? I know that you love him and you have a son by him, our dear precious René. I know that you are happy that _Marquis François de Saint-Hérem _is alive and that he didn't die in _the_ _Franco-Prussian War of 1870-1871_."

The grey eyes slit shut. "Don't ask me. I cannot find him. I just cannot."

Lord Marchmont was bewildered. His sapphire blue eyes were silently asking Annabelle for clarification. "Why, Annabelle?"

"Patrick, I will tell you only if you swear never to tell anybody about that."

Lord Marchmont crossed himself. "I swear," he pledged. "I am giving to you the word of the Robillard and the word of the Campbell, and you know that it means a lot."

"I know, Patrick."

A smile animated his tired face. "Thank you, Annabelle."

"Patrick, give me my jewel-box on that marble table near the window."

The Earl of Marchmont climbed to his feet and approached the table. He gripped the large, heavy jewel-box and returned to the bed. He handed the box to Annabelle. She took it and opened it. She was searching for something for quite some time and finally extracted three folded sheets of paper. She passed to Marchmont those sheets. As he took them, unfolded, and read all of them in turn, his handsome face paled. He gave the letters to Annabelle, and she put them back into the jewel-box.

He stared at Annabelle in horror. "Who else knows about these anonymous letters?"

Annabelle held his gaze. "Only you and I know, Patrick. Remember that you swore never to tell anybody else about the letters."

The Earl of Marchmont leaned down and hugged Annabelle. "My poor sister! My dear Annabelle. Now I understand many strange things, which happened with you. Damn this villain! Who could do it?"

Annabelle shook her head in negative response. "I don't know, Patrick." The grey eyes locked with the blue eyes. "You will tell nobody, won't you?" she asked in uncertainty.

He gave a light nod. "I won't tell. I am always keeping my word." Then he hugged her again. As he disentangled from her, he looked at her, his blue eyes showing anxiety. "Please you must take care of René. While you are away, I will take care of him. It will be fine."

A vague smile hovered over her lips. "My dear Patrick…"

"Perhaps, we must talk to Philippe, the Duke of Aylebsury," he assumed.

"Patrick, I will never do it!" she exclaimed in irritation. "Now I am afraid that you will betray me."

Lord Marchmont only sighed. "I will never betray you, sister. I will do as you wish."

"I believe you," she said humbly and lowered her gaze.

Marchmont knelt to her. He took her hands in his. "Please know that I will always help you. I am always at your side."

Annabelle laughed and waved a kiss to him. He smiled in response. "Thank you, brother." She smiled at him. "Patrick, have you ever been in love with somebody?"

He shook his head in negative response. "No, I haven't."

"It is good," she breathed. "Never love women, brother. We are too complicated creatures."

Marchmont laughed. "Oh, I can well believe in that." His blue eyes turned haze. "Annabelle, I once had a dream that I would marry a woman from the convent."

Annabelle laughed at him. "Really? You and a woman from the convent? It is absurd!"

"Why are you laughing? I am not so bad."

"You are such a womanizer, Patrick! You are an incorrigible rake! But I do wish you from the bottom of my heart to find your love," she said sincerely.

"Thank you, Annabelle." Lord Marchmont looked at Annabelle with genuine concern. "Annabelle, darling, please try to rest now. If you need something, then call the maid, my mother, or me."

"Thank you, Patrick."

Marchmont smiled sadly. "Welcome, darling." Then he rose to his feet and left.

Annabelle was eventually alone in her bedroom. She was lying on her large bed, her eyes shut and her hands at her sides. She was thinking. Her mind was busy as she worked out the plan of her journey to the United States. She hated the idea of crossing the Atlantic Ocean now when she was still sick. Unfortunately, there was no other alternative. She planned to leave for Southampton in the early hours of tomorrow's morning and then to board the ship in the afternoon. She estimated that she will arrive in Charleston on time, given that this ridiculous wedding was scheduled for the end of June 1876. She decided that even if she arrives on the wedding day and has to stop the wedding in the Church, she will do it. It didn't matter now how she will encumber the wedding – she will simply do it.

Mathilde knocked at the door of Annabelle's bedchamber. As she entered, she came to the bed and stared at her mistress. As Annabelle opened her eyes, Mathilde announced that his Grace _Vittorio Amedeo Alberto di Savoia, the Duke of Naples_, arrived and was waiting for Annabelle downstairs in the study room. Annabelle stood up from the bed and adjusted her skirts. She looked at herself in the large-framed mirror on the wall opposite the bed and frowned – she was disgusted with her extreme leanness and deathly paleness. She put some rouge on her cheeks, but it didn't improve her look. Undoubtedly, the poisoning harmed her classic beauty, adored and glorified by so many admirers and worshippers in the high society. Finally, Annabelle cursed and decided that she didn't care for her look. She stepped in the direction of the door.

As she left her bedchamber, she passed through the dim corridor and went down the staircase right to the grand hall. The she walked down the hallway towards the study room. She found Vittorio Amedeo standing in front of the window and staring outside into the semidarkness. He immediately turned around when Annabelle entered the room and rushed to her side.

Annabelle's eyes registered that he looked as handsome as usual. Yet there were dark circles under his dark brown eyes as Vittorio was sleeping little time in the past weeks. He looked very tired, if not exhausted. He was dressed dramatically in black: his tailcoat, his trousers, his shirt, his waistcoat, his gloves, and his top hat were black, while his dark blue silky cravat was neatly tied above his frilled shirt. Now, in contrast to other cases, there was no extravagant embroidery on the Duke of Naples's waistcoat and gloves.

"Accept my respects to you, Madame de Robillard," the Duke of Naples said in a half mocking tone. He bowed to her with all the grace of a gentleman born.

"Good afternoon, your Grace. Thank you for coming," Annabelle teased.

"Your maid came to my house and said that you wanted to see me. My dear Annabelle, you look very tired. How do you feel?" the Duke said.

"Otherwise I would have needed to come to you." Annabelle looked up to her companion, her grey eyes flashing with uncertain feelings. "I feel good, apart from still suffering from some side effects of my farewell meeting with the devil when I bathed in the darkness of the chaos."

"Annabelle, you always use figurative language, which is quite charming. Well then… How is Scarlett?" Vittorio inquired with apparent sorrow in his voice.

"All Scarlett desires for her own burial isn't to be buried alive. She is still alive and she will be alive," Annabelle said as a conjuration she used to repeat every hour during the last two weeks. "She will live and she will wake up eventually. I don't want to give up on her. I will never give up on her."

"Yes, Scarlett is very strong and will live. I wanted to tell you that I spoke to Scotland Yard… They found nothing… The trick of announcing you all dead didn't bring positive results as the murder hadn't been detected. They even don't have any suspects," the Duke proclaimed, but didn't mention that Rhett Butler came and he lied to him about Scarlett and Annabelle's death due to his personal reasons.

"Perhaps, the murderer isn't in the country, Vittorio. He or she could have already left England," Annabelle supposed, thinking of Silvia and Rosemary.

He shot her a keen glance. "Who knows, Annabelle, who knows?"

Annabelle stared at him. "It is a complicated story, Vittorio."

"I hope the police will find these criminals and they will be hung."

Her lips twisted in a sarcastic smile. "Geoffroy and Charles are indeed dead, Scarlett is on death bed, and I am dead inside. So there is no deception, my dear Vittorio," she grinned.

His gaze dropped. "I understand you," he admitted after a long moment.

"Charles was so young and so innocent. Geoffroy was also very young," she said with tartness. "I could kill the person with my bare hands if I knew who murdered them."

"Annabelle, let's take a sit," The Duke said as he sank into the high back chair near the fireplace.

She obeyed and settled into the identical chair in front of the Duke of Naples. "Fine."

"Please, calm down. You and Scarlett are not dead. What did Doctor Broussard tell you about Scarlett?" Vittorio Amedeo forced a smile on his tanned handsome face, but there was no bright glittering in his eyes.

"Doctor Broussard said that she can awake or stay in this deep sleep forever and eventually die. She didn't die because the dose of the poison was quite small and we used antidote quickly, but enough amount of poison dissolved in her blood," Annabelle jabbered in an alt-a-mort, obituary manner. Her heart was so filled with sudden, fierce surge of pain that she had feared it would burst from her breast. Her undertone was so decadent that Vittorio Amedeo embraced her to console her.

"Scarlett will make it through. You saved her, Annabelle. If you didn't react swiftly, we wouldn't know so quickly which doctor to call and what happened. Your experience as a waiting-lady at _Napoleon III's_ court was so helpful, of course, coupled with my experience in Italian poisons," he tried to joke.

"Vittorio, you know many cases when people survived after the poisoning with blue cooper sulphate… Tell me whether she can awake and be the old Scarlett. Please, tell me the truth," Annabelle pleaded. She wanted reassurance. Dread constricted his heart.

"I can say the same as doctors do. Scarlett can awake and be as healthy as she used to be, but it can also never happen," the Duke said and released a nervous breath. "Darling, what did you want to talk about when you asked for audience?"

Annabelle hesitated and averted her eyes. "Vittorio…" she called his name and paused.

"What, darling?" the Duke inquired, his brows going upwards.

"I am off to the States tomorrow. It is very urgent, and I must do it. No objections, please, because I feel perfectly fine." Her lips pursed.

Vittorio looked anxious. He leaned towards Annabelle. "Are you sure you must do it right now?"

"Yes, I must do it right now. It is very urgent, Vittorio."

"Believe me, darling, I would rather take any number of bruises from any villains in London than to have had you sick again," the Duke of Naples jeered. "Alternatively, I have rather daringly left my heart lying defenseless at your feet. And all the above can be done to guarantee your security."

"That is why precisely why I didn't want to tell you," she giggled. "However, I am still going."

_Duke Vittorio Amedeo di Savoia_ frowned. "I beg my pardon," he purred. "Is it a final decision?"

"Yes, it is. You know that the disease won't have the sharpest wreath for me. I kindly ask you to take care of Scarlett while I am away. Vittorio, you have done so much for us in the past two weeks. Thank you very much," she almost snapped as tenseness and despair gripped her body and mind for the millionth time.

"Don't worry, Annabelle. And don't feel obliged to me, darling. I will take care of Scarlett. Do you need somebody from my people to escort you in this trip?"

"Vittorio, thank you very much. I am leaving for Southampton at half past six in the morning tomorrow. I don't need somebody. Again, thank you, Vittorio," Annabelle answered firmly.

"No problem, your wish is my command. Don't worry, Annabelle. I will do everything what it necessary," Vittorio politely answered.

Annabelle rested her head on the wooden back of the sofa. "Thank you, Vittorio Amedeo," she said in a low voice. "Thank you for all that you have done for Scarlett and me."

The rest of the afternoon and evening passed in a whirl as Annabelle was involved in packing her things, talking to Marguerite and her son Patrick, giving orders to the servants, and answering letters. The night was restless. When she woke up in the morning, there was little time left, and her eye on the gilt clock on the mantel, Annabelle lifted off the bed her body and hurried to the dressing room, ringing the bell for the maid. Without any breakfast, they finally loaded into the carriage all the things and headed to Southampton. Having reached the city in several hours, Annabelle and Mathilde soon successfully boarded the ship to Charleston. Chin up, shoulders straight back, her heart beating fast, her grey eyes glittering with a mixture of anger, hope, and strength – she was determined to stop Rhett.

* * *

_Annabelle's life story is given in Chapter 19. In this story, her role is a reciprocal friendship with Scarlett._

_Oh, I am sure that you will like the next chapter. It is very scandalous and even funny in some aspects._

_Please be aware that chapters 45, 46, 47, and 49 are very non-traditional, but they are an essential part in the intrigue. You will be flying from hell to paradise and back on Sinful Earth. It is very emotional._

_A lot of drama and a lot of tragedy are packed into chapters 44-49._

_Reviews are always appreciated. Thank you very much in advance._


	44. Chapter 44

**Chapter 44**

**Unprecedented scandal in the Grace Episcopal Church**

During the journey to Charleston on the board of the ship, Annabelle spent nearly all the time in her cabin. Although she was gradually recovering, she still felt unwell. Physically Annabelle could feel nothing, except for numbness, periodic sudden nausea, and constantly attacking anemia of all her limbs. But she desperately tried not to pay much attention to the side effects of the poisoning by blue cooper sulphate, and her train of thought was always in Charleston with Rhett Butler and one of the two ladies who caused this tragedy to happen. She didn't know who it was, but the only three options existed – Rosemary or Silvia or they both in collusion. Her task was to preclude the greatest tragedy in her green-eyed friend's life to happen. Scarlett was very sick, but not dead, and there was still a ray of hope that she would awake when her body is more or less cleaned from the toxins of the poison.

Annabelle knew in advance that she wouldn't enjoy her trip. Firstly, she didn't like what she had to do – to stop Rhett Butler's wedding. She knew that there would be numerous grasps and groans and lamentations, and she hated even a single opportunity to observe them. She also didn't know what Rhett Butler had been doing at that time, but she secretly guessed that he was probably drinking heavily throughout all those days after the poisoning and his departure to the United States. She disrelished the idea of talking to a man who had been drinking for many days and hence could lose the sense of reality, which supposedly could happen in the light of the poisoning of the body and the brain by the toxins of alcohol. She knew what it was like in practice: her first husband, old _Marquis Paul de Castelmoron,_ was drinking heavily and was out of his mind on the back of constant overindulgence with alcohol. As a result, Annabelle hoped that Rhett's mind was clear enough to talk to her and understand what she was going to say to him, if he indeed had been drinking mightily throughout all these days.

Annabelle didn't like the place where she was going – Charleston. She has never liked the Old South, conservative and ceremonious, routine and monotonous. In general, she didn't appreciate visiting the places there was no energy and no diversity and there was only routine and laidback atmosphere. Furthermore, Annabelle loathed the Southerners because of their extreme archaism and their unwillingness to become more flexible and to renew their outlook in order to adjust the rules and the norms of the society to today's fashion, not yesterday's life. Vivacious and energetic Scarlett was an exception in this archaic society, and Annabelle thought that Scarlett had much more in common with her French relatives than she dared to admit for herself. Both Annabelle and Scarlett didn't like living in the past and were always looking ahead. Of course, Annabelle hated slavery, but now this topic was out of the question, although she deeply sympathized to the former slaves because for many of them their life didn't change considerably and they continued serving their former masters, being formally free but still poor and obliged to obey.

In addition, Annabelle despised the communities with a correspondingly high degree of restriction of the freedom of women, and the old South and even this new South were right the places of this kind. Indeed, in the Old South the women were raised in order to get married at a very young age and later give birth to the children with their husbands. The antebellum South provided few opportunities for women of either black or white race. They were expected to be submissive to their husbands or masters. Depending on a race and a social status, the women had to do anything from a field worker to helping manage the daily running of a plantation. For both elite white women and working class white women the most important thing to do was to marry and maintain a family. The plantation mistresses hardly led lives of leisure as it was overwhelmed by their duties to run the household, as well as bear many children and raise them. Women's rights and opportunities for development were rather limited, and that fact irritated freedom-loving, intelligent, and energetic Annabelle. There was also another object of disdain for Annabelle – rumored numerous sexual relationships between white men and slave women in the Old South. Each time Annabelle thought about those possible things, nausea was attacking her as abhorrence overtook her mind.

In contrast to the highly conservative society of the South of the United States, in the 19th century in France and Europe in general, many urban women had many chances to be active participants in the public economy and thus the process of modernization itself. A woman's role wasn't perceived to be exclusively getting married and bearing as many children as it was possible for her husband. In many French provinces the old generation still had such a view on women's role in the society, but in the urban centers, like Paris, Lyon, Marseille, Toulouse, Nantes, and other relatively large cities, things very different from the provinces. It was true that in France and in Europe in general many wealthy women were kept busy running the household and organizing the servants. Well to do women often also did charitable work. In addition, it was also much more typical for wealthy women to be involved in some business activities than it was for women in the South of the States. Naturally, male domination was undoubted in France and in Europe in general too, but in the South of the States it was superfluous and excessive. As a result, in Europe fewer women felt trapped in their own homes, unable to escape from the confinements placed on them by their husbands. Of course, in Europe there were many more opportunities for women to lead a life they wanted to live, not that one they had to live in accordance with the rules and the norms of the society. And, of course, French women were very different from the women born in the South of the States: they were much more accustomed to self-indulgence, freethinking, and libertinism than women from the American South. English women, especially those from the ton, were more similar to the women of the American South, but French women were also different from more conservative English women, including ladies from the high society. And Annabelle was a typical French woman.

During the journey to Charleston, the only thing that improved Annabelle's frame of mind was the fact of the scandal that will happen in Charleston. Each time she imagined how the gossipmongers and lay audience would discuss that Rhett and Silvia's wedding was cancelled by Rhett, she smiled as satisfaction and pleasure flooded her heart. Being a scandalous _femme fatale_ for whom a scandal wasn't new and unusual, Annabelle felt that had she prevented Rhett from marrying Silvia in the most scandalous way – right in the Church at the altar before the exchange of marital vows, it would be the most remarkable, the most eminent outcome of all the situation. She laughed as she imagined how the monotonous, peaceful life of Charleston would be shattered to many small pieces when the scandal happens. At that time she didn't know that everything will happen almost in this scenario.

Annabelle hoped that she would be able to get to Charleston before bull-headed fool Rhett Butler marries _Silvia Ferdinanda Albertson Dawson_ who could be the murderer of several people. During the past two weeks, Annabelle was thinking a lot about the tragedy, about what happened and how it happened. She recalled the shadow of a woman on the wall which Annabelle and Scarlett saw in the alcove of the parlor when they were talking about the children. She also kept in mind the oddness of recent Belle Watling's poisoning. Annabelle was sure that either Rosemary or Silvia overheard their conversation and decided to take revenge in the most cruel, agonizing way. This devil incarnate should have decided to poison a woman who could destroy her villainous plan to make Rhett marry Silvia and lead a miserable proper life in Charleston. Annabelle was confident that it was also about the money which Rhett Butler undoubtedly had in abundance. In the meantime, she didn't have a clue who of these two ladies was the begetter of this atrocity that stormed into Annabelle and Scarlett's lives and killed young _Marquis_ _Charles de__Bréval_ and _Marquis_ _Geoffroy de Boisy_, Scarlett's third cousin and Annabelle's cousin from the Robillards on the side of his mother.

Physically Annabelle could feel nothing, except for numbness, periodic sudden nausea, and constantly attacking anemia of all her limbs. Her train of thought was in Charleston with Rhett Butler and one of the two ladies who caused this tragedy to happen. She didn't know who it was, but the only three options existed – Rosemary or Silvia or they both in collusion. Her task was to preclude the greatest tragedy in the life of her poor green-eyed friend to happen. Scarlett still was sick, but not dead, and there was still a ray of hope that she would awake when her body is more or less cleaned from the toxins of the poison.

Ten days later after they had left London for Charleston, a lady in the grey outdoor dress with her maid, both French, stepped to the lobby of the Charleston Grand Hotel. Annabelle asked whether they had a two-bedroom suite available for her and Mathilde. Having received the positive answer, Annabelle left her maid with the entire luggage in the lobby. She didn't want to wait to be checked in the room and made her way directly to the Butler mansion. Annabelle managed to find the address in one of Scarlett's old letters to Rhett which she wrote, but didn't send and kept.

Annabelle put her best foot forward and left the lobby. She took the carriage and gave the coachman the address of Rhett Butler's mansion on the Battery. The carriage stopped in front of the elegant Butler House, yellow with Doric columns, with a plain capital and a fluted shaft, with a sense of great proportion and perfect symmetry. She noted that the house was built in the Greek Revival Style and hence was very much alike a pattern of the Classical style developed in ancient Greece and Rome. Annabelle walked from the carriage in the street and approached the mansion. She knocked at the front door, and in a minute a darkie maid appeared and opened the door.

"Hello, Miss. How can I help you?" the darkie looked at Annabelle questionably.

"Good morning. I need Mr Rhett Butler. Is he at home now?" Annabelle asked politely with a clear French accent and looked at the girl from beneath her grey veil.

"I am sorry, Miss, but he isn't at home now. Today is Mr Rhett's wedding with Miss Dawson. May I help you in any other way?" the maid said.

"When is the wedding scheduled? What time? Where is this church?" Annabelle nearly shouted at the young girl who looked frightened due to outburst of Annabelle's temper.

"Everybody is in the church. The wedding is scheduled for the midday… Mr Rhett, Miss Rosemary, and Miss Eleanor left the house around an hour and a half ago…" the maid continued, clapping her eyelashes in a flush.

"Where is the church? How can I get there?" Annabelle gave a yell at the girl. She didn't care about her behavior and what people would think about her manners. All what she needed was to stop this absurd wedding that will ruin her friend's life.

"Miss, I… I… It is…" the girl was stumped due to Annabelle's pressure.

"Did you go deaf? Tell me where this church is right now," Annabelle demanded in a higher tone of her sonorous voice.

"They are in the Grace Episcopal Church. It is located at the Wentworth Street, building 98…" the maid was stammering.

"Thank you. Have a good day," Annabelle snapped carelessly, not looking at the maid. She turned around and rushed to the carriageway of the street.

It took Annabelle some time to stop a passing-by carriage. She nearly shouted at the driver to stop and then to drive to the Grace Episcopal Church as quickly as possible. Being a pure French lady, energetic, unpredictable, and dynamic, Annabelle was annoyed with the laidback atmosphere of Charleston because there was nothing about the town that was in a hurry. Residents held fast to tradition and civility and considered rushing anyone impolite. Annabelle recalled that the town's reputation for civility dated back to when _King Charles II of England_ first named this port Charles Towne, but it was a long time ago and she wondered why nothing had changed since that time. Obviously, Annabelle wasn't a great Charleston lady and hated a routine, permanently constant way of life of this city.

During her journey, Annabelle looked outside the window of the carriage at Charleston. One of the oldest cities in the States, Charleston represented in itself coastal lands that included numerous marshes and barrier islands. Annabelle felt more composed when she contemplated the landscape with palmetto trees and stately oak trees from the window of the carriage. It brought her to the memories of the place where she met her beloved François, the thoughts about whom she had to put aside for some time after the catastrophe at that cursed art event happened a month ago. She knew that François was alive in accordance with Scarlett's words based on the letter from _Frédéric Philippe Auguste de Harlay, 15th Marquis de Bréval_ _and__ 16th Count de Cesy. _He was the new _Marquis de Bréval_ after Charles's death. Unfortunately, Annabelle didn't check that matter since the day of the art event. At the same time, she knew that she wouldn't be able to come to François even if he had been alive and lived in Vienna.

Annabelle was surprised with that in the current period of Reconstruction, after the defeat of the Confederacy many years ago the Yankees armed forces still remained in Charleston. The war broke to atoms the prosperity of the antebellum rich city, and former wealthy aristocratic society was now faced with poverty and limitations. As the city's commerce improved and widened its activities, inhabitants were brought back to a renewed vitality and more well-off, which, however, cannot be compared with the antebellum time. Annabelle recalled the downfall of the last Bonapartist regime in France in 1871 and silently compared it with what was going on in the American South. However, she hasn't remembered the armed forces in Paris since 1873, although the city remained under strict martial laws till 1875 in the aftermath of _the Paris Commune_ of 1871 and other clashes between the Republicans and the Monarchists in Paris. In contrast to Paris, Charleston was still patrolled by the Yankees in their blue uniform, although ten years have passed since the end of the war.

Suddenly, the carriage stopped abruptly, returning Annabelle from the world of her thoughts to reality. She looked out of the window and asked: "Did we get to the Grace Episcopal Church? I see that we stopped in the middle of the road. What happened?"

"Miss, I am sorry, but the wheel…"

"What happened?" she repeated.

"Well, the wheel is broken. It currently lies beneath the carriage."

She snorted. "And?"

"We cannot continue our journey. I am sorry," the driver answered sorrowfully.

The land pulled out of Annabelle's legs when she heard what the coachman said. The fear and horror chained and immobilized her because she was afraid that it was now too late. She had the feeling that she had fallen into a world where down had become up and right had turned into left.

"Oh my Lord! No please! Anything but not this!" Annabelle half pleaded loudly.

"Miss, I can try to repair the wheel. Please, wait for ten-fifteen minutes while I am examining the damage," the coachmen answered, his eyes grew wide in amusement.

She simply looked at him, one eyebrow raised. "I cannot wait! Don't you understand this? How far is the church? Can I get there by foot?" Annabelle hissed in her rage. She was angry that the incident with the carriage had happened. She was angry that disobedient fate hadn't made it easy to grapple with the mess Rhett and Scarlett created in their lives.

"Miss, please wait a little. It will take at least fifteen minutes."

Annabelle screamed again, at the pitch of her voice, violently and with authority: "How far is this church? Damn this steady life of Charleston! This is a swampland!"

"Yes, Miss, it is not far from here. Do you see the peaked steeple of the church on the horizon? I think it is just ten-fifteen minutes walking from here," bewildered driver said and glanced at Annabelle with suspicion. "There is a wedding there today. Mr Rhett Butler is marrying Miss Silvia Dawson."

"I know about this damned wedding, but we will see whether this will happen," Annabelle barked a carefree, deeply sardonic laugh, threw a ten-dollar note to the stunned driver, and was on her way to leave.

"Miss, it is too much. Wait, please, while I find the change for you," the coachmen mumbled.

"I don't need the change. Have a good day, sir. Pray to God for my sinful soul," she snapped, half-turned to the gobsmacked coachman, and left.

Annabelle de Robillard was running out through the oak alley at the velocity of the light. She recalled how similar this alley was to the oaks at the _Jardin du Luxembourg (Luxembourg Gardens)_, which are dripping with beautiful French moss, a place where she met her beloved _Marquis François de Saint-Hérem_ for the first time. Anticipating the fateful encounter, Annabelle was happy now that she wasn't wearing her black mourning gown and decided on the tight velvet outdoor dress of light grey color, with a high neckline and long train trimmed with open-work embroidery. The most eye-catching component of this dress was so-called _Marie Antoinette sleeves_, full to the wrist and tied into compartments by a serious of ribbons and ruffles. A tiny wristband and a medium-level collar of the dress were trimmed with a profusion of silver ruffles and white Venetian laces. Her grey bonnet, ornamented with a wide ribbon tie and a large grey feather, as well as equipped with a dark-grey veil, perfectly matched her dress and the color of her eyes.

Annabelle felt dizziness, and her knees were shivering from faintness that was gradually settling in her body. The young lady ignored these senses completely, and her power of will pushed her further to the large wooden doors of the Church where the preposterous, grotesque wedding ceremony was being served by the local Reverend Fletcher.

Annabelle was silently praying that she wouldn't be too late in the Church to let Rhett Butler marry Silvia Dawson who could be the murder of three people, poor _Marquis Charles de Bréval_ and _Marquis Geoffroy de Boisy_, as well as a red-haired woman whom she met once in Atlanta – Belle Watling. She desperately wanted to prevent the catastrophe. It was enough that Scarlett suffered so much because of Silvia or Rosemary and was critically sick now. Moreover, Annabelle was fed up with the game of two blackguards they were playing in, which ultimately resulted in calamity for Scarlett and defeat and the ruined life for Rhett. Annabelle suspected that Rhett decided to marry Silvia under the pressure of his family in order to elude the scandal, but in fact blowing up even a greater scandal, as she silently scoffed. She also acknowledged that Silvia and Rosemary circumvented them all, like blind fools and hobbyhorses.

Different thoughts were whirling in her mind when she finally reached the entrance to the Grace Episcopal Church. Annabelle pushed the heavy wooden doors and looked ahead along the church. Her eyes dropped on the centerpieces of the church - the altar window, displaying the sacraments of the church, and the great entrance window, illustrating the Great Commission by which Christ sends Christians into the world to spread the Gospel.

Annabelle strained her eyesight and saw two people who were standing in front of the altar in the chancel. They were Rhett Butler and Silvia Dawson. Annabelle's gaze fell on a tall woman in a silky white dress with a small train and a high neckline, with a headpiece consisting of roses and white ribbon. She also noticed a handsome man in his wedding attire - a brilliantly tailored, dashing dark-blue three peace suit, a light blue cravat, and a white shirt, accompanied by a flower in his lapel. Annabelle chuckled as she recognized how plain Silvia's dress was and again compared her with "her oldest shoes", laughing in her mind. Silvia looked very happy and confident, her hazel eyes blazing with conquest and hegemony. She looked like a Roman triumphator, laurel-crowned in the light of the great victory in one of the battles for the Empire.

In contrast to Silvia, Rhett's face had uneasy and ambivalent expression, and, undoubtedly, he looked like a tired Julius Caesar, a tired of life, chaos, and rhetorical speeches, apathetic to everything man who was dragged to the church against his will. There wasn't a looking-for-a-fight expression on his face, but rather a bitter cast of resignation to his diabolic fate. Having encircled a slight puffiness of Rhett's body with her eyes, Annabelle concluded that he probably was drinking heavily in the past weeks. Annabelle ascribed this to his knowledge that Scarlett was dead and he would never see her again.

The priest has just started the whole ceremony. Although Annabelle didn't have profound knowledge in Episcopal wedding because she was Catholic, she guessed that she missed only the first part of the introductory part of the wedding, which is preceding the Declaration of Consent, the exchange of vows, as well as the Ministry of the Word. After three marriages, Annabelle hated wedding services.

Having decided to interrupt the wedding in the most scandalous and the most affectionate way, in the most memorable manner for boring Charlestonians, Annabelle smiled to herself eagerly. No, she won't rush to the altar now: she will wait and interrupt the wedding later, before the Declaration of Consent and the marital vows. It would be more scandalous and dramatic, as Annabelle decided and laughed in her mind. She took a sit on the back, waiting and watching. Dragging air into her constricted lungs, she stared blindly ahead. They were here, close to her, and soon she will make a surprise for them soon.

_Dearly beloved: We have come together in the presence of God to witness and bless the joining together of this man and this woman in Holy Matrimony. The bond and covenant of marriage was established by God in creation, and our Lord Jesus Christ adorned this manner of life by his presence and first miracle at a wedding in Cana of Galilee. It signifies to us the mystery of the union between Christ and his Church, and Holy Scripture commends it to be honored among all people._

_The union of husband and wife in heart, body, and mind is intended by God for their mutual joy; for the help and comfort given one another in prosperity and adversity; and, when it is God's will, for the procreation of children and their nurture in the knowledge and love of the Lord. Therefore marriage is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, deliberately, and in accordance with the purposes for which it was instituted by God._

_Into this holy union Rhett Kenneth and Silvia Ferdinanda now come to be joined._

Annabelle realized that it was time for her to say her final word. She rose to her feet and dashed to the altar down the long nave. She didn't notice people in the church standing up and looking at her with curiosity and surprise. Annabelle heard when the Reverend said to the congregation: _"If any of you can show just cause why they may not lawfully be married, speak now; or else for ever hold your peace."_

Annabelle approached the altar and stood rooted near Rhett and Silvia. She looked at the bride and at the bridegroom in terms. The she smiled sarcastically. Her eyes blazed in determination under the veil. "_I know such a reason_," Annabelle said loudly with a clear French accent, with the single purpose to show her nationality before her final fateful speech. She fabricated her accent as she could easily speak without any French accent.

Reverend Fletcher looked at the lady in the grey dress in bewilderment. "I am sorry, Madame?" he asked.

Annabelle straightened her spine. She felt anemia in her feet, but she ignored that sense. She had another task at that moment. "_These bride and bridegroom cannot become a wife and a husband sacramentally_," a resolute, final mezzo soprano spoke.

Annabelle's words returned an echo of a double magnitude in its soundness and tone. Guests attending the ceremony started to whisper to one another and many of them sprang to their feet from the wooden pews. Silvia and Rosemary, who was the bride maid, were staggered and speechless, with deadly pale faces. Rhett was standing motionless and on the watch for what the unknown lady in the grey gown will say. He didn't recognize Annabelle at first, but distinguished her French accent, which sent his heart to his feet. Apprehending the scandal, Eleanor Butler approached Rhett and stared at him with a silent plea for action and instantaneous explanation. Silvia's parents – Ornella Simona and Nathaniel Albertson – also stood up and came closer to Silvia.

"Miss, I would be most grateful if you could please let us know your full name," the Reverend Fletcher asked firmly and wonderingly.

"It is a very long name," Annabelle smirked and smiled under her veil.

"It doesn't matter. Please tell us your full name and why you object to the wedding between _Rhett Kenneth Butler_ and _Silvia Ferdinanda Albertson Dawson_," the priest repeated his question.

Annabelle proudly raised her chin. "Well, if you insist, sir. My name is _Annabelle Françoise Julienne de Robillard de Bréveaux_, _Countess de Morville_," she said.

Hearing Annabelle's full name, both Eulalie and Pauline Robillard stared at Annabelle in confusion. They were struggling to breathe.

Reverend Fletcher looked confused. He blinked once and then blinked again. "Madame, are you from the Robillards of Savannah?"

"No, I am not from the United States. I was born in France. I am the granddaughter of _Gerard Augustin Bernard de Robillard de Bréveaux, 18th __Baron de La Fresnaye_, who was the first cousin of _Pierre Jacques Alexandre __de Robillard de Bréveaux_, who was known in Savannah as simply Pierre Robillard. My grandfather Gerard de Robillard and his cousin Pierre de Robillard had the common grandfather - _Jacques Louis Auguste de Robillard,_ _11th Count de Bréveaux_, _14th Baron de La Mancellière, 16th Baron du Boismancellet, and __16th_ _Baron de La Fresnaye,_" she explained. She decided to let them know with whom they were talking. She had enough time. She wasn't in a rush. "I hope this explanation is sufficient for you," Annabelle added with dark irony. She paused to see the overwhelming effect on the audience in the Church, enjoying it in her mind. People were apparently shocked by the Robillard part of her name.

"Madame, why did you say that these bridegroom and groom cannot be married?" Reverend Fletcher asked humbly.

Annabelle's grey eyes flashed. She cast a haughty glance around. "I have an exclusive gift from London and from Paris for Mr Rhett Butler. It is only for Mr Rhett Butler," she pronounced and looked around. "This wedding cannot be finished," she said in a high voice.

Hearing Annabelle's last words, both Eulalie and Pauline Robillard couldn't keep their composure anymore and fainted.

"Oh! The Robillards are blackened…" Eulalie Robillard sniveled and fainted.

"Good Heavens! What is this?" Pauline Robillard was sobbing and also sank into a deep faint.

In all her extravagance, Annabelle went further and took her tiny French bonnet with veil from her head, picturesquely throwing it on the floor. Annabelle was standing in front of the bride couple in all her natural beauty, glory and triumph. She was staring at Silvia and Rosemary with the gaze of such intensity, gaze full of contempt, scorn, as well as supremacy and victory, that both so-called proper ladies were taken aback from the French grey-eyed lady. Silvia and Rosemary's faces widened in bemusement, and blood drained from their faces. Silvia's face went down from a Roman triumphator to a defeated captive.

Rhett was also frozen as he saw Annabelle's grey eyes emitting voiceless mean-spiritedness, malice, and accusation. He was nonplussed by the contents of her eyes, which he saw so coolly indifferent and unemotional in London and during their meeting near the railway station in Atlanta. Rhett also noticed that Annabelle looked beautiful, but morbid and in thin flesh. For an instance, his coal eyes locked with her oval grey orbs.

"We know that marriage is honorable and the Bible commands us to render honor properly. In this case there are insuperable impediments for the marriage." Annabelle stepped up to Rhett and leaned slightly her head to him. Her heart gave a leap, missed a beat, and then began to thump madly when a pair of penetrating coal eyes looked straight into hers. She extracted the sheet of paper from her purse and handed him the envelope. It was Scarlett's letter for him. "They are in this letter."

"Thank you very much, Madame de Morville," Rhett said.

"Welcome, sir," Annabelle returned. "I must admit that Madame de Robillard sounds better."

"It is agreed, Madame de Robillard. I will remember," he answered as he looked up at her for a second.

Rhett looked at Annabelle questionably and took the white envelope from her hands. Annabelle smirked when Rhett unfolded the letter and began to read Scarlett's beautiful handwriting line by line. The more he was reading, the more spellbound his face became. Apparently, he was taken aback by the contents of the letter. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the sheet of paper.

_Dear Rhett,_

_I hope this letter finds you well._

_I have to tell you that we have children together, so that we will have mutual grandchildren. It happened more than two years ago on October 17, 1873, on the night in Charleston, which you should remember. I got pregnant by you at that time._

_If you recall, I came to you to Charleston later in order to tell you that I was with child. However you didn't give a damn and threw me away in the coldness, rain, and darkness of the street. You didn't give me an opportunity to tell you the reason for my visit._

_As a result, I had no other way out and decided to leave the United States. I went to Europe to the Robillard family and met Marquis Mathieu de Bréval. I had to marry him in order to hide my shame and disgrace. Later, he died._

_I had two girls. I named them __Blanche Charlotte Henriette and __Isabelle Marguerite Caroline. One of them is blue-eyed like our Bonnie, and another one is green-eyed like me. They are magnificent and my miracle from Heaven. I love them strongly and unconditionally._

_I wanted to tell you in the evening of the day of Mammy's funeral and even started, but we were attacked and interrupted. I also tried to tell you during our last night in Charleston. I asked you about the children, but you said that you didn't want them and weren't ready to risk your heart again. After this cruelty it was difficult for me to tell you the truth._

_The children are officially recognized as my last husband's. You can do nothing to take them away from me. You can check it with your lawyers. However, I left a reference to a Butler surname in their full names in the birth certificates just in case I will tell you somehow and you will claim them as yours._

_You have hurt me too much and too deeply, Rhett. You ruined our shaky happiness with your cruelty, falsehood, indifference, and hoggish treatment of the mother of your children. However, I think that you have a right to know the truth. I am leaving the decision whether you want them up to you._

_You can contact my lawyer in Paris Monsieur Pierre Jean François Blanick at Blanicks and Co. He will help you with the paperwork if you decide to proceed to this stage._

_Scarlett de Robillard de Bréveaux, Marquise de Bréval_

Having finished the reading, Rhett raised his head and looked happily at Annabelle. He didn't speak and just looked at her with intensity, a flame of joy and playful imps dancing in his black eyes. There was no mockery in them as he put off his cool polite indifference and faced the marvelous gift sent to him by the hand of God. Rhett looked abashed, but not as dark as he looked when Annabelle entered the nave.

"Never thought that it could be possible," Rhett said very quietly in scarcely recognizable voice, raw with emotion, a hoarse, aching whisper. For an instance the bitter regret carved into his handsome features and the aching gentleness appeared in his compelling eyes. As the lump of emotion began to dissolve, his face and gaze quickly turned impenetrable, although he felt as if he were stretched on the rack.

"I believe so," Annabelle said absently.

"Mr Butler, what is going on?" Ornella Simona Albertson asked.

"Who is this lady, Mr Butler? Why in Heaven's name did she interfere in the ceremony?" Nathaniel Albertson demanded Rhett to answer in a commanding, accusing tone. His reaction was alarmingly discouraging.

"This is a Parisian surprise." Rhett sounded both mirthful and guilty.

"Mr Butler, can you please explain!" Nathaniel Albertson demanded.

"I am sorry, Mr Albertson, but the ceremony cannot be continued on the back of some private reasons, strictly private," Rhett explained.

Annabelle hid her smile at these words. She raised her head graciously, with unhidden pride, and fixed her eyes at Rhett: "I suppose the marital vows are impossible in this case. Mr Butler, you should give this ring to another lady, and she will wear it with all her love and joy. "You suppose correctly, Madame de Robillard. I would love to do it, but as far as I know…" Rhett said in melancholy, his eyes flooded with sadness.

"You can do it, Monsieur Butler. Don't be so lonesome. Call me Annabelle, please. I am not very old." Annabelle smiled with both eyes and lips, now radiating hope and sublime gladness. She supplemented: "Why such lingering silence? Monsieur Butler, she is not dead."

That brought Rhett to a standstill. "What?"

"She is not dead," Annabelle repeated. She smiled. There was a touch of unease to that tentative curl of her lips. "You doubt my words, don't you?"

Rhett stared at her with intensive gaze and shook his head. "I believe you," he finally said. He swallowed and shut his eyes for an instance.

There was a startled silence in the whole church interrupted by grasp and groans and whisperings of numerous newsmongers.

"Unprecedented… so scandalous…" guests were whispering in undertone.

"The Butlers are blackened forever… Oh…" another guest was whispering.

"Robillards are involved… Unprecedented…" somebody said in a small voice.

"So scandalous… Poor Miss Eleanor…" somebody whispered.

"Poor Miss Dawson…" guests mumbled.

Rhett digested the news in silence as never before had he suspected that he had two daughters with Scarlett and never had he imagined that something could have caused such dreadful disinformation about Scarlett's death to be spread. It was so exciting and so incredible for him. The silence was so acute that it seemed that neither of the major heroes of this drama even breathed. Then the perplexity fell away from Rhett as happiness and hope surged through him. He stepped forward and swept eyes across the nave over the guests.

"The ceremony is over, ladies and gentlemen. You may leave now. We do apologize from the bottom of our heart for distracting you all from your plans on this sunny day," Rhett Butler announced in a high, sonorous voice to the audience. He turned to Silvia and Rosemary and continued with a broad smile in a lower voice: "I am sorry, Silvia. I am very sorry. I cannot marry you."

"For God's sake, don't say so, Mrs Butler!" Ornella Simona almost clapped her hand over her mouth in horror. Her shoulders trembled.

"I am sorry, but I cannot marry your daughter," Rhett murmured.

"How is this possible?" Ornella Simona looked on the verge of a fresh bout of tears.

"Rhett, this is not a laughing matter." Silvia groped for her lacy handkerchief and promptly trailed off into dainty tears. She lifted her eyes pleadingly to Rhett.

"I am very sorry. I cannot marry Silvia," he repeated and shook his head in an emphatic no. He turned to Annabelle, unattainable and unwavering, and their eyes locked. "We need to talk in private with Madame de Robillard."

"My Lord… What is this?" Nathaniel Albertson, Silvia's father, mumbled feeling how a dagger of strong pain stabbed him in his chest and heart. He couldn't breathe on the back of the sharp pain in his chest. He lost his balance and sank to the marble floor of the Church.

"Please, help my father! Please, help my father!" Silvia screamed.

"Nathaniel, what happened? Nathaniel! Nathaniel!" Ornella Simona rushed to her husband in panic with loud cries.

"Please, help Mr Albertson," Eleanor and Rosemary lamented.

At first Mrs and Mr Wondermurt reached out Nathaniel Albertson. Rhett and Annabelle stood unmoved, as though rotted to the marble floor, because there was nothing they could do about the situation. Other men also rushed to the poor man and his crying wife. Finally, the guests took and carried Silvia's father along the nave and then outside the Church in order to transport him home and to call a doctor for him.

"Silvia, darling, we must take your father home urgently. I fear it is all about his old heart problems. You may stay here so far," Ornella Simona said numbly.

"I will stay, mother. Please take care of my father," Silvia said in a determinedly confident voice. While her mother strode past the guests and hurried to the men carrying her unconscious husband, Silvia turned to Rhett. Her hazel eyes narrowed into a slight frown when she glanced at him. "I apologize for disappointing you, but I will stay."

"Unprecedented… ", "as never before…", "so scandalous…", "awful…", "The Robillards involved...", "poor Eleanor Butler…", "The Butlers are blackened…", "what a shame…" sounded everywhere in the Grace Episcopal Church.

* * *

_Did you like the surprise in this chapter? I consider the wedding interruption to be very dramatic. Charleston will never forget this scandal. _

_Poor Butlers! Poor Rhett! How funny for me as an author!_

_Now try to guess what happens next. I am not sure you will be able to do this. Another twist is going to take place._

_Reviews are always appreciated! Thank you very much!_


	45. Chapter 45

**Chapter 45**

**The moment of sweet and bitter truth**

Rhett looked at Silvia for a very long time. He seemed again transformed from the warm, easy man Annabelle was beginning to see after she had given him a letter. Instead, his eyes glittered, hard, indifferent, and cold. "Yes," he finally said. "You may stay."

"Welcome to your desire to talk, Rhett. I would love to listen to you," Silvia hissed. "This is an admirable wedding cancellation. Do you enjoy it?"

"No, I don't," Rhett confessed. "Believe or not, but it is so. I know I owe you an apology."

Silvia's voice dropped to almost quiet, but there was nothing in her tone of softness. Instead, she spoke with fierceness. "At least an apology," she amended.

If Rhett's gaze had seemed hard stone, Silvia's was sharp, clear and cutting. "It is an amusing situation, Rhett." She laughed nervously. "It is such a new thing for Charleston. You made a fool of me in front of the whole city. You blackened the reputation of my family for ages ahead," she declared and laughed harder. It was a hysterical laugh.

But Rhett seemed unaffected. "I am sorry, Silvia," he said in a softer voice. "No need to grovel. No need to beg. No need to quarrel. The wedding was cancelled and it is final. I am very sorry, but I hope you will accept my decision." His tone left no doubt that Silvia had no choice in the matter.

The guests began to leave the Church, and fewer and fewer people remained inside. The audience was visibly stunned and was gossiping with each other. It was something new for them as never before in the history of Charleston the wedding was interrupted in such scandalous fashion. Traditional air of civility and privilege, exclusively preserved respectability and tranquility were to what townspeople were accustomed to. The scandal in the church ruined their Southern charm and grace in the most unpredictable way. Eulalie and Pauline Robillard also left the church, being backed up by other Southern gentlemen and followed by groans and lamentations of old matrons.

Near the Grace Episcopal Church, Eulalie Robillard and Pauline Robillard stood rooted, supported by several gentlemen. They continued talking to other matrons and gentlemen for several minutes as they many people were interested in the lady in the grey gown who interrupted the wedding so scandalously. They were attacked by numerous questions, but they were unable to withstand those questions, as they were sobbing nearly uncontrollably. Asked on the back of simple curiosity, those questions were like a thunderclap for them. They didn't understand how it could have happened that somebody from the Robillards was able to ruin the environment that was so stable and so unchangeable for long, long years.

At the same time, Rhett, Annabelle, Eleanor and Rosemary Butler, as well as Silvia Dawson were silently standing in front of the altar and watching how the guests were leaving the Grace Episcopal Church. Reverend Fletcher and Robert Butler were standing at some distance from them.

"Madame de Robillard, can you please explain what is going on here?" Eleanor Butler finally said in a quiet voice and looked in anticipation at Annabelle.

Annabelle raised her chin. "Scarlett isn't dead and won't go to eternal rest with God's help," she declared.

"Oh, God!" Eleanor Butler cried out in complete confusion. She blinked several times, apparently understanding nothing.

Silvia and Rosemary looked at Annabelle and shrugged. For onlookers it appeared that Silvia and Rosemary were indeed bewildered and confused, but Annabelle knew that somebody of them or they both were playing and were playing really hard, as they didn't have any other way out of the situation. She wasn't going to give them any opportunity to play a wild card and to avoid her accusations.

Annabelle glared at Silvia. "Mrs Dawson, Rhett Butler will choose another lady to be his wife, to have and to hold for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish as long as they both will live," Annabelle repeated a traditional marital vow which she had learnt by heart after getting married three times and looked with challenge at Rhett. She sighed heavily to compose herself. "Don't you think so? Especially after the truth is known to you, Mr Butler," she added.

Rhett smiled and stroked his mustache. That smile illuminated his whole face and his heart. "Apparently, it is so, Madame de Robillard."

"Mrs Dawson, I like your dress," Annabelle commented, her bottom lip twisted sardonically. She took a sneak peek on Silvia's ghostly pale face. "You look rather rash, my dear Mrs Dawson, because the color of your dress quite matches the color of your face," she jeered.

Ominous silence followed again because Reverend Fletcher, Eleanor, Silvia, and Rosemary were completely blown away, while Rhett simply chuckled and a broad smile gingered his face. Rhett felt sharply how he missed this boldness and courage in women, which was so foreign for proper ladies and which she loved in Scarlett. No, never will he become a proper gentleman.

"Silvia, Rosemary, mother, I think you should go home. I will join you later," Rhett said confidently in a loud voice. He looked happy, and a bright glittering appeared in his previously dead eyes. "Now I want to talk to Annabelle."

"Mr Butler, are you sure in what you are doing now?" Reverend Fletcher questioned.

"Reverend Fletcher, our wedding is over. I am sorry for disturbance, but what I have read in this letter makes it impossible for me to marry Miss Silvia Dawson. I have obligations to another lady," Rhett elucidated. He didn't want to explain in details on public to escape more thunderous scandal.

"Rhett, we aren't leaving. I want to terminate this scandal. Mrs Bedrow, may I ask you to do a favor for us and take Robert to get him home," Eleanor Butler admonished Rhett to eschew from further attempts to make them leave. She didn't want her grandchild to witness this collision.

Robert looked at Rhett interrogatively. The young boy was happy that the wedding had been cancelled. He had never liked Silvia Dawson. In reality, Robert was ready to sing in merriment that his father wasn't marrying Silvia. He felt that he could sink to his knees right in the Church and to say thankful words to God that he wouldn't have to tolerate Silvia in his life. He knew that Silvia has never liked him and that she was ready to tolerate his presence at the Butler house only because she was dreaming to get married to Rhett. Robert was afraid that people would realize how happy he was. The boy wasn't wearing any masks of indifference, like Rhett was doing. Robert and Rhett were different in that aspect – Robert was natural.

Robert wanted to avert his gaze, but it wasn't possible as he was talking to his father. "Should I leave, father?" he asked humbly.

"Yes, Robert, please leave now. I will see you later at home, son," Rhett instructed his son. He stepped forward to Robert and kissed him on his cheek.

"I will see you later, father," Robert answered politely and bowed. The boy left the nave with Mrs Bedrow, Eleanor's friend.

So far, Silvia and Rosemary were keeping silent, and Annabelle was interested who of them would start the conversation. Both ladies were caught in their absent-mindless, oversight and inadvertence in the light of turmoil and commotion in the aftermath of the wedding cancellation. Rosemary Butler was the first to begin the talk.

"But Rhett… It is the day of your wedding, and we need to finish the ceremony now. The scandal… what are you doing, brother?" Rosemary began, but Rhett stopped her. Silvia was still speechless.

"Rosemary, I said that the ceremony is over. I don't have any reasons to marry Silvia," he insisted. His voice was as hard as steel. "The ceremony is over," he reiterated.

"Rhett, I don't understand… It is our wedding… Rhett…" Silvia murmured, a shiver running through her.

"Silvia, I am very sorry for what I have done to you, but you deserve somebody better than me. I told you this in London, and I was a fool to continue this charade," Rhett interfered in the dialog.

"Rhett, how could you do this to me? You broke to smash my reputation…" Silvia babbled.

"The only justification for my actions is that I was completely not myself after the news of Scarlett's death and wanted to do honorable thing for my family," Rhett said and approached Annabelle.

"Ladies and gentlemen, maybe, you will continue this conversation behind the walls of the Grace Episcopal Church?" Reverend Fletcher asked in a low voice, hoping not to blow up the scandal. However, everybody seemed to ignore what he has just said.

"Rhett, I don't think that Silvia deserves somebody better than you," Annabelle's voice resonated with echo. "Miss Silvia and Miss Rosemary… here, in the church in front of the God's pure face, pray tell us, who is the most sinful Machiavellian-like lady from two of you?"

"What do you mean, Annabelle? Pray continue," Rhett asked anxiously and propped hips by his hands.

"Why are you looking up, Miss Silvia? You should know that in Episcopal Church the roof symbolizes charity, which covers a multitude of sins. Maybe, you need this after you killed a young boy and one of the Robillards on this dreadful art event in London in order to marry Rhett? Or maybe it was you, Miss Rosemary, in your desire to drive Scarlett apart from your brother?" Annabelle hissed in anger and looked at two women in their numbness with disdain and rampage in her grey eyes.

With suddenness of a thunderbolt, Annabelle's blood simmered and hot burning anger transfixed her body. Nothing could smooth away her anger now. She recalled how many weapons her friend and relative the Earl of Marchmont had at his house in London. She silently cursed that she hadn't take a sword, a javelin, or a spear with her to Charleston. Annabelle was so angry that she was quickly to use physical power toward Silvia and Rosemary in order to make them confess. It was very difficult for her to look calm and rational now, and with each second she was more and more likely not to be unable to suppress her anger.

"What are you talking about, Madame de Robillard? Better think before you throw such accusations at my daughter and Mrs Dawson," Eleanor defended two women.

"Mother, please, hush up. Annabelle, pray continue," Rhett gripped Annabelle's hand to encourage her to talk further. Not being very religious and in his desperate spontaneous desire to grasp all the truth, Rhett didn't care that they were still in the church. Reverend Fletcher was speechless in the contemplation of even more scandalous events in front of the altar.

Annabelle rolled her eyes, burning anger on her face firmly affixed. "I know what I am talking about. Four people were poisoned with a rare Italian poison at the art event in London, and two of these people died, including young _Marquis_ _Charles_ _de Bréval, _Scarlett's stepson, and my first cousin _Marquis Geoffroy de Boisy_. I hope you remember the names of the people you killed at that art event."

"This is a fairy-tale, Madame de Robillard," Silvia laughed acidly and hissed. "Can you please invent something… erm… more like a semblance of truth?

"Rhett, Silvia and Rosemary both came to Scarlett to Atlanta and told her that you have a son with poor Miss Watling and that you are engaged to Silvia," Annabelle pronounced in abject horror. "Silvia talked to Scarlett and assured her that you don't love Scarlett and… erm… I am sorry… used her."

"Madame… Please control what you are saying… We are in the Church…" Reverend Fletcher lisped.

"I am sorry, Reverend…" Annabelle apologized.

"It is glaring, deliberate falsehood, Madame de Robillard! Nonsense! You don't have shame! I never came to Scarlett to Atlanta," Silvia cried out, her voice shaking.

"Silvia, you did this, didn't you? Rosemary, you deceived me in that Silvia wasn't involved in this mess?" Rhett raised his voice and a dangerous glittering hulked up in his deep-black eyes. "Answer me! Now!"

"They did it together, Rhett. I suppose Rosemary ransacked your things when you were at Tara or in Atlanta, and later they came to Atlanta. It was Silvia who talked to Scarlett. Scarlett told me about this when she got back to Paris from Charleston last December," Annabelle stated steadily.

"Rosemary, how could you do it to me, your brother? Falsehood is in your blood!" Rhett muttered tersely between clenched teeth.

"I did this to protect you from Scarlett! I couldn't tell you that Silvia was involved because I truly wanted you to marry Silvia, Rhett. I wanted you to live with us in Charleston. Charleston isn't a place for over-dressed women, over-furnished houses, for too much food and other vulgarity. Scarlett tormented you, and she has always been so vulgar. Everything was done with benevolent intentions," Rosemary explained and gazed at Rhett in anticipation.

"You are a fool, Rosemary. You should better ask me when you want to do or say something. I doubt I will ever forgive you," Rhett countered.

"Rosemary! Good Heavens…" Eleanor lamented.

Rosemary cast a guilty glance at Eleanor. "I am sorry, mother. I am sorry. Please, forgive me…"

Eleanor ignored her daughter's apologies and pleas. She was in utter shock. "Rosemary, how could you do this to your brother?" she jabbered hesitantly.

"Please, ladies and gentlemen…" the priest interjected.

Annabelle ran her gaze up and down Silvia's figure. Then she stared at Reverend Fletcher. "No! I want to continue here! In front of the God's face! Right here!" she exclaimed in a small voice, but it sounded as though she was in agony. She didn't care that they were still in the Church.

"Yes, let's continue, Annabelle. We are sorry, Reverend Fletcher," Rhett said. He wasn't a worshiper of religion and also didn't care in his blind desire to grasp the truth.

"Moreover, I know that Belle Watling was also poisoned, but I don't know the details. Scarlett managed to tell me this before we were poisoned. Someone of you is a murderer, ladies," Annabelle slightly raised her voice, her eyes blazing with indignation and undeniable hatred.

"It is a whole-cloth lie, Madame de Robillard!" Rosemary exploded. "You are so scandalous, and the scandal is everywhere where Scarlett and you come. Everybody in Europe says so."

"Please, we are in the Church…" the priest said to stop the collision, but everybody disregarded him.

Her grey eyes blazing Annabelle continued to assault Silvia and Rosemary. "I am ignoring your spiteful comments. This poison nearly killed Scarlett because she is alive, but she is in a semi-comatose state." She paused, her eyes swung to Rhett and then to Silvia and Rosemary.

"Semi-comatose state…" Rhett echoed. He felt as though several swords stabbed him in his heart.

"Yes, Rhett, semi-comatose state," Annabelle repeated. Then her eyes again fixed at Silvia and Rosemary. She placed her hands on her hips. "You should know perfectly well what it means as you poisoned her," she pressed on further. Certain strength appeared to penetrate even her hammering heart, and strength came, coursing back into her body. She was determined to know the truth.

"Madame de Robillard, please stop this spectacle…" Eleanor Butler said.

Annabelle interrupted Eleanor. "Innocent blood is on your hands! She may never awake or may awake tomorrow. This poison is very specific, but you know better than me," these words caused Annabelle and Rhett's heart to retract in pain and coldness infested their veins.

"How do you know this, Annabelle?" Rhett inquired with genuine concern. Grief appeared in his black eyes that were looking daggers from Annabelle to Silvia and Rosemary.

"I had been a lady-in-waiting at _Napoleon III's_ court before the second and the last Bonapartist Empire was defeated in 1870. I witnessed a multitude of such cases when aristocrats and courtiers poisoned others by Medici's or Borgia's favorite poisons, like cooper sulphate and arsenic. I saw with my own eyes how several ladies-in-waiting and other courtiers died as they were given the deathly doses of various poison, including the Medici's black and blue cooper sulphate," Annabelle said.

"Annabelle, you may have seen other examples, but how do you know that it is related to Scarlett's case?" Rhett asked.

Annabelle's eyes flickered downward and back up to meet Rhett's steady gaze. She inhaled. "My little son Lancelot and my second husband _Count_ _Etienne de Brienne_ were killed by a huge dose of black cooper sulphate during the Christmas ball at _Napoleon III's _palace in 1868. Nobody and nothing could save them because the dose of the poison was lethal. The Emperor's court was a far-flung spider's web of intrigues, poisonings, love affairs, and other taints. It was the time when a courtier could have been poisoned either in a daytime in the palace during the breakfast or in the night by the own servants of this courtier," Annabelle's voice went from a hateful canto to a deeply woeful, vocal murmur. Everybody stared at her in dumb horror.

"Good Lord Almighty! Annabelle… I am so sorry," Rhett shuddered, and words fell swiftly as though hurried with some inner urgency. He added: "It is so well-known that all the Emperor's or the King's courts have always been sodden in evil habits, especially those in France and Italy."

"I miraculously survived," Annabelle paused. She rolled her eyes and looked at the ceiling of the Church. "Probably, it would be better if I were dead."

"Madame de Robillard, never say so. Only God knows whom to take to Heaven and when to take," Reverend Fletcher protested. His hand blessed her with the cross.

Annabelle gave a wistful smile to the priest. It was difficult for Annabelle to suppress the smile of another kind – a mocking, sneering smile, because a long time passed since she believed in fairness, even God's fairness. After her son and her husband were murdered, she concluded that everybody was mortal and could die at any time. Many fatalistic ideas embraced her mind, and she felt comfortable with them. She began to believe that human being were powerless to do anything other than what they actually could do, including their power to influence many future events. It appeased Annabelle after her family's death and helped her not to lose her mind in those dark days. She clung to the idea that many events were inevitable and nobody could prevent them. She has never changed her believes since then. Before that sad event, she had never been so fatalistic.

As a result, Annabelle ignored the priest's comment and went on talking. "I still remember the body of my small son, black tinged with blue, because of the poison accumulated under his skin… Nothing could help them… and I survived," she continued. Her voice was unruffled and almost velvet-like. She couldn't pronounce this in a higher voice – it was too painful for her heart.

Reverend Fletcher was taken aback. "Oh my God! God bless you, Madame de Robillard. Rest to your son and husband's souls," Reverend Fletcher mumbled.

"Thank you, Reverend," Annabelle said humbly.

"Gracious Heavens! Please, accept my sincere condolences for your loss, Madame de Robillard," Eleanor pronounced.

Annabelle slid her eyes closed. "Thank you very much," she said. She opened her eyes. "Back to our topic, I know about these poisons. I know very well how they work. And I know some doctors who can take care of poisoned people. Usually, these doctors are a sort of privileged ones, like doctors serving at the Imperial courts or the King's courts. At times it is good to have such… erm… memorable experience from the past," Annabelle relapsed into silence, her eyes seeking Rhett's face.

"Being a lady-in-waiting has an acerbic taste," Rhett admitted.

Annabelle agreed with him wholeheartedly. "Indeed."

"I am sorry, Annabelle," Rhett shook his head, his eyes turning to deep-black and effusing tribulation.

Annabelle sent to Rhett a thankful gaze. "Thank you, Rhett."

"Please, go on," Rhett emboldened her.

"So, there are antidotes, and if a dose of a poison wasn't huge and you have proper antidote, you may survive," Annabelle looked at Rhett with blank, hollow eyes.

"How did you survive after the recent poisoning in London, Annabelle? It appears the second poisoning in your life… What do doctors say about Scarlett?" Rhett supported Annabelle in her dizziness as she started to shiver and her eyes began to befog.

Annabelle felt as minuscule beads of sweat were dripping from her forehead. "I am more or less immune to the poison as I used to take arsenic and copper sulphate in small doses every day as a preventive measure after my family had been poisoned. If you take very small doses of poison on a regular basis, it is not dangerous for your life. Eventually, you are relatively immune to this kind of poison and even to some others. Knowledgeable doctors will confirm this to you." She touched her forehead.

Annabelle felt that the air in the Church was suffocating her. Being half French half French, half Scottish by blood, she knew English very well as her mother Gwendolyn, who was the daughter of the English Earl, was often talking to Annabelle in English even at home. However, now when each cell of her body was tensed, stretched bar-taut, talking in English was strenuous for her – her French accent strengthened.

Annabelle breathed through squeezed teeth. "Doctors say that Scarlett may get better soon once her body cleans up from the poison, but she is alive."

At that moment, Reverend Fletcher left the group and approached the last guest in the Church to accompany the old lady to the exit.

"_Tu vas bien, Annabelle? (Are you alright, Annabelle?)_" Rhett questioned in French as he noticed her internal struggle and tension.

"_Je suis très bien, Rhett, merci. __Ne vous inquiétez pas (I am fine, Rhett, thank you. Don't worry)_," she returned in French.

"The calamity that burst into our lives was caused by the actions of one of the ladies standing here in front of the God's face." Annabelle forced an ambivalent smile.

"You are lying! Nobody did this to you and Scarlett! You don't have any evidence," Silvia hissed.

"I am not lying, Rhett! I am not lying! Somebody of them killed Belle and almost killed me and Scarlett," Annabelle nearly screamed in rage.

"You are the unashamed charlatan who makes groundless accusations," Silvia clamored, undertaking the defense position. "You have no right to talk to us in such a scandalous manner!"

"Madame de Robillard, stop behaving so scandalously. You are talking nonsense. You should better apologize and leave," Rosemary tried to stay calm, but failed. She turned away from them to try to composure herself.

"This is the moment of sweet and bitter truth. Let us speak openly. Let her continue, Rosemary. Listen, ladies, very attentively. Annabelle, don't feel embarrassed to tell everything what you know. I am done with falsehood and misery of the life I created for Scarlett and myself two and a half years ago. I am done with games we were playing with Scarlett… Games with no ultimate winners…" Rhett spelled out and looked at Annabelle.

"Thank you, Mr Butler… Rhett… The cobweb in your and Scarlett's relations is very sophisticated. Two blackguards can quit this cobweb only if one of them stops in time and draws the other one or if another blackguard intrudes," Annabelle laughed sardonically in a low voice.

Rhett signed heavily. "You are right, Annabelle. We are just too much alike with Scarlett in many aspects, and sometimes it doesn't ease the communication and relations." He felt guilty for everything, especially now when he knew that he had children with Scarlett.

Annabelle didn't say that in her opinion Rhett was a coward in personal life, while Scarlett was a brave woman. It was neither time nor place to talk about that. However, she didn't agree that Rhett and Scarlett were too much alike. Annabelle was even sure that Scarlett was a stronger person than Rhett was. At least, it was so in the most critical moments, she mused.

"Rhett, son, I understand your motives, but the scandal is unbelievably flagrant, and our name is again blackened as it used to be. I don't want more disgrace! It is enough!" Eleanor Butler stated. "Besides, Madame de Robillard indeed doesn't have any evidence to support her accusations. No proper lady will ever act so… so boldly."

Annabelle smiled at that statement. "Mrs Butler, I am pretending to be a proper lady. I have never been proper enough," she said sincerely. There was also a hint that someone among them wasn't as proper as it seemed to be at the first sight.

"Madame de Robillard!" the priest said in a harsh voice. "It is improper to talk so in the Church."

"I am sorry, Reverend Fletcher," Annabelle said. She wasn't sorry at all, but, being a polite person, she had to say it.

Eleanor clapped her hands. "Oh, Lord!"

"Mother, let us continue this charming conversation. I want to know the truth. This moment is the moment of truth," Rhett assured the audience and looked at Annabelle with undeniable silent approval of her actions.

Rhett was also interested in the history of Scarlett and Annabelle's poisoning because his mind traveled to the recent monstrous poisoning of Belle Watling in Atlanta. Having cleared his mind now, Rhett found these two poisonings overwhelmingly suspicious. The poison seemed to be the same – both in London and on Atlanta the used poison was the Medici's blue cooper sulphate. Moreover, Silvia and Rosemary were in London at the National Gallery when poisoning happened. In addition, somebody of them had had an opportunity to visit Belle in Atlanta and kill to her right before the departure in Europe.

Annabelle's grey eyes narrowed into two worried slits. "Someone of them overheard our conversation with Scarlett in the alcove of the parlor at the National Gallery during the ball," she announced.

"How interesting," Rhett remarked.

"We were talking about Rhett and Scarlett's children when we saw someone's shadow on the wall. This person was running away from us when she realized that we noticed her. Undoubtedly, we heard female, light footsteps," Annabelle continued her tirade. "The shadowy silhouette on the wall was most likely female," she supplemented.

Eleanor looked at her son interrogatively. "Children?

"Yes," he drawled reluctantly, as if it was an unwelcome duty.

Eleanor didn't speak for nearly half a minute, and nobody dared to break the pause. Her blue eyes seemed fixed on some far corner of the Church. Then she finally went on. "Rhett, I don't understand… Which… which children does she mean?"

"You are a liar! Whacking lie is all that can escape from your bitchy mouth," Silvia was losing her temper. "Hush up and get out of here!"

"Shut up, Silvia! Let her speak!" Rhett raised his voice. Rhett looked at his bewildered mother. His voice took a lower octave. "Yes, mother, I have two precious daughters with Scarlett. Their names are Blanche and Isabelle. In fact, I am a happy father of three healthy children." He smiled broadly. "Isn't it marvelous?"

Rosemary looked absent-minded. "Rhett, can you please explain what you mean," she pleaded.

Reverend Fletcher was speechless in his utter shock.

"Scarlett couldn't tell me that she was with child when she had left the States before I divorced her. This happened because I didn't give her a chance and treated her badly, abandoned and divorced her. It is my entire fault. Moreover, I said to her that I wasn't ready for having more children when she tried to open me the truth seven months ago," Rhett replied equably.

"So, Rhett, I have two more grandchildren, don't I?" Eleanor demanded impatiently.

Rosemary's face screwed up in disbelief. "You have children with Scarlett, don't you?"

"Yes, I do, my dear mother and Rosemary," Rhett replied joyfully.

Rosemary swallowed loudly, her voice soaked through stupefaction. "The children weren't born in her last marriage to that French nobleman?"

Rhett nodded. The expression of his face undeniably said that it was truth. "They are mine," he retorted.

"Christ in Heaven!" Rosemary exclaimed. She looked cryptically at Silvia and sighed heavily. She shrugged. "Rhett, I didn't know," she repeated in helplessness.

Silvia only shrugged. "I also didn't know… I didn't know…" She clapped her hands and tightly clasped them on her chest. Her eyes widened as though in bewilderment. "How could it be, Rhett?"

"_C'est faux! Le menteur ne va pas loin, Rhett (This is lie! __Lies have short legs, Rhett)_," Annabelle expostulated, bestowing Rhett with taciturn reassurance in her crystal grey eyes. She said that in French especially for Rhett as he seemed to be the only one to speak this language. She was sure that neither Rosemary nor Silvia or Eleanor knew French well. However, she probably wasn't correct, although she didn't know it.

Rhett nodded, his voice varnished with silent agreement and aegis. "_Très exactement, Annabelle. Je ne les crois pas (Precisely, Annabelle. __I don't believe them)_."

Annabelle drew a deep breath. "I am fine, Rhett."

"Excellent," he returned. He shifted forward from Annabelle to Eleanor. "Mother and Rosemary, I do have children with Scarlett, namely, two daughters. Affected by my brutality and harshness of my stupid actions, Scarlett ran away from me to France."

"Rhett… How… how… could it happen?" Eleanor demanded in a beseeching voice. She was bewildered and confused.

Rhett's voice was startlingly matter of fact. "Mother, I did too much to drive Scarlett away from me, but at first I didn't think that the damage was so massive. I was a fool and acted like a bastard to her. I regret it so much," he confessed with evident disdain and condemnation of himself.

Annabelle looked at Rhett with some warmth in her now benign, grey eyes and said: "Rhett, Scarlett loves you so much. She loved only you. She wanted to tell you about the children a long time ago, but this atrocity from your side destroyed her plans. I know the whole story. I had to come here with the letter that she wrote to you a long time ago and left undated. I couldn't let you marry Silvia and, perhaps, the murderer."

Having assured the all the guests left the Church, Reverend Fletcher came back to the altar, to the group of quarreling people. "Please…" Reverend Fletcher said, but everybody ignored his pleas.

"Thank you very much, Annabelle, for what you have done for me and Scarlett," Rhett took her hands in his hands, her wrists crossed, his heart swelled with affection and gratitude to Annabelle.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I kindly ask you to stop this… erm… conversation in the Church. Please…" Reverend Fletcher started to plead the quarreling people.

"I am sorry…" Eleanor Butler muttered and glanced at Rhett in shock.

"I am sorry, Reverend Fletcher," Annabelle said. "I just want to ask one last question while we are still in the Church," she added and paused, gathering her internal strengths. She turned around from Rhett who approached her in the gesture of gratitude and sympathy, and stared at Rosemary and Silvia.

"Please, ask your question and leave the nave, Madame. Enough disgrace and scandal were caused by your actions," the priest said with dissatisfaction.

"To sum up, somebody overheard our conversation with Scarlett about children, and we were poisoned the same day. Miss Belle Watling was strangely poisoned, but I don't know details. Scarlett just had time to say that she was poisoned. Don't you think we deal with a multitude of whimsical coincidences around the Butler family?" Annabelle specially drawled with a sonorous French accent.

"Madame de Robillard, please ask what you want and leave the Church! Respect the Church, please," Reverend Fletcher again interjected.

Rhett looked at her with intensity and silent question. He also stared askance at Rosemary and Silvia, frozen and statuesque. "The idea of all these strange coincidences has already popped my mind."

Annabelle shook her head. "I have been thinking about it since I regained my conscience in London."

"Something is messed up in this story. What did you want to ask, Annabelle?" Rhett asked.

Eleanor's gaze fixed at Annabelle, then shifted to Rhett. "Son, please let's finish this conversation. The scandal has ruined us. Besides, your son is waiting for you at home…"

Eleanor was interjaculated by Annabelle. "There! There! I am sorry, but I want to continue. So…" Annabelle stumbled with words under the influence of uncertainty and feeling dizziness and weakness in each membrane of her body cells. She paused and looked at Rhett.

Silence pressed on the nave of the Grace Episcopal Church. Annabelle's mind was whirling in desperate search for some satisfactory conclusion on how to proceed to the matter further, but the conclusion evaded her tired mind. Annabelle didn't know who the murderer was or whether they committed these crimes in collusion with each other. She failed to reveal the truth by observing Rosemary and Silvia's visible reaction to her appearance in the church as they both were thunderstruck and rooted to the floor with ashy-gray faces and wan, wintry glances. They looked like ghosts of ghosts in the relative twilight of the Church illuminated by wax candles and some rays of summer sun, which barely penetrated inside the nave due to the architectural features of the Church. Silvia and Rosemary were even frozen in very similar postures – hands tightly clasped to bosom, gathered stomach, slightly raised head, half closed eyes, and parted lips. For the onlookers they could remind sinful souls on the threshold of the Day of the Atonement as though the apparition of ghosts transformed from their invisible presence to translucent, wispy shapes, even not reaching the real-life figures with clear outlines.

Annabelle felt weakness in her knees and wished to settle her body somewhere, but there was nothing to seat at near her. Compounded of sleeplessness, physical sickness, and emotional tumult, an overwhelming nausea came on Annabelle. She stepped forward and gripped Rhett's forearm as though it was heaven-sent for her. Rhett cast a glance at her ghostly pale face with trembling lips, and his arm wrapped around her waist to support her. Rhett swept his eyes over rooted ghosts of Rosemary and Silvia and drained of emotions Eleanor Butler and Reverend Fletcher. Rhett was the first person who broke the silence.

"No, mother, we must continue now. We are sorry, Reverend Fletcher, but we must," Rhett replied in a steady, vociferous voice. He grasped Annabelle's hand slightly and waved her to continue.

"So, the poison applied in London is a rare Italian poison from Medici's collection – blue copper sulphate," Annabelle promulgated in a high voice. "In addition, blue cooper sulphate was mixed with some other ingredients, presumably _datura stramonium_ in Latin or _jimson weed."_ She paused.

Silvia glanced at Annabelle with challenge. "And what do you want to say now?"

Annabelle laughed quietly. "I want to say that you must have special knowledge to prepare such a poisonous mixture."

Eleanor Butler cast an acidulated glance at Annabelle. "Madame de Robillard, neither my daughter, no Silvia has such knowledge."

"I am not so sure," Annabelle answered simply.

"And I am not so sure," Rhett added in a steady voice.

The grey eyes met the black. "Thank you, Rhett," Annabelle said with gratitude.

Rosemary's face was flushing. "What nonsense you are talking about! It is complete nonsense!"

Silvia sniffed. "Total absurd!" she exclaimed. "Absurd!"

"I agree," Eleanor said.

"And so do I," Reverend Fletcher confirmed.

Rhett's lips twisted sardonically. "But I don't agree," Rhett parried. His remark had a hint of finality. His voice was authoritative and high-handed.

With an unfathomable glance from beneath her lashes, Annabelle turned her head to face Silvia and Rosemary. "I am sure it was someone of them." The high-strung tension in her body was peaking, and her French accent was more and more transpicuous. She sighed, her tongue clamped between her teeth, but sharp determination and grip of Rhett's hand pushed her to go on.

Rhett nodded. "I support this conclusion." He was a clever, logical man, and he was able to match all the strange facts and coincidences in the dreadful story of poisoning. His heart in his throat, he had to acknowledge that either Silvia or Rosemary could have been involved those evildoings and acts of atrocity when so many innocent people were poisoned.

"Who of you did this? I think that we should take them both to Atlanta. Do the police investigate Belle Watling's murder?"

"This is an outstanding idea, Annabelle. I wanted to propose it. It is fair because somebody from the city folks or Belle's girls can identify the strange lady in black, a black widow." Rhett's voice sounded truculent and cool. He solved to act in accordance with "fight the tiger principle."

"Rhett, Rosemary is your sister. What are you doing?" Eleanor stepped forward to Rhett, her eyes frantic and pleading, said, her voice sounded strangled. "Rhett, please, son…"

There were despair and fear in Rosemary's blue eyes. "Rhett, I didn't know… I swear!" she implored. The expression on her face resembled that of a great martyr who has to get prepared for endurance of excruciating anguishes and physical tortures. She crossed her arms on her bosom.

"Mother, we need the truth," Rhett interjaculated.

Eleanor let her hands drop to her sides. Her pulse knocked against the side of her throat. "Stop it, son," she said, in a low voice. "You disgrace yourself and all of us."

Rhett stroked his black mustache. "I cannot stop, mother. I am terribly sorry. Now this is the all-or-nothing game." He turned his gaze to frightened Rosemary. "What do you think about it, Rosemary?"

Rosemary said nothing, only returned his gaze, waiting with dread to hear his words.

"Who of you, my dear would-be proper ladies, is somehow related to Italian aristocracy or hermetic art? Or how did you manage to find this very rare, specific poison? Blue cooper sulphate is rarer than its black variation," Annabelle said, her eyes glittering with steadfast resoluteness.

"Pray continue, Rosemary and Silvia," Rhett heartened them to speak. "What can you please answer to Annabelle's question?"

Rhett was standing before them all, broad and furious, his chest heaving. His black eyes were flashing with dangerous twinkles. His right fist began to clench and unclench in a steady, expectant rhythm, as if his heart were beating outside his breast.

Annabelle took another deep breath, and another. She wished to be sell-conscious and a little light-headed as everything what was going on in the Church was terrible. Her voice, when she spoke at last, had been schooled back into calm. "Who of you, my dear proper ladies, is somehow related to Italian aristocracy or hermetic art?" she repeated her question.

Rhett was going to support Annabelle. "Who is a specialist in alchemy and in the art of poisoning?" he asked. His voice was very authoritarian.

"Who poisoned so many people?" Annabelle asked again. "This person should be anathematized in the light of the diabolic things done," the verdict followed.

After Annabelle's final question, silence again hung over them. Several minutes have passed, but nobody said a word. This silence was becoming almost murderous and wild. The emotions of all the people in the Church solidified under the mantle of semidarkness, fear, trepidation, and obscurity. The combination of fear and inquietude were growing stealthily through the long seconds and minutes of cliffhanging, brutal silence feeding on harrowing memories, pandemoniac suspicions and vague hopes. Even Rhett and Annabelle didn't move and speak as nothing had ever startled or frightened them so much, and their mouths turned too dry to utter a simple sound.

In public, both Silvia and Rosemary were classic proper ladies who were raised in accordance with the strictest rules and norms of the American South. Their knowledge of social etiquette was brilliant, manners - impeccable. Together with their mothers, Silvia and Rosemary actively participated in charity events, memorial evenings, and legendary Charleston tea parties from approximately fourteen years old. During the war, they both nursed the soldiers in local hospital and participated in charity bazaars. They always smiled sweetly, never were rude, and in public acted helpless and confused when it was to their advantage. They were always dressed properly in plain, modest gowns without low necklines and bizarre trims in contrast to both Scarlett and Annabelle. All their clothes were rank-and-file. As proper ladies, both Silvia and Rosemary were also proficient in sewing and doing needlework. In other words, Rosemary and Silvia Ferdinanda were true Southern ladies in their appearance - virtuous, self-sacrificing, forbearing, passive, charming, and hospitable. Nobody knew what lied underneath the surface of one of them. Who was she? Or did they plan everything together? Or did Annabelle make a mistake in her suppositions?

* * *

_Hello to everybody. Finally, I uploaded the update. I am sorry for a delay because only yesterday I managed to do editing._

_Now guess who the murderer was. Next chapter will be the clue._


	46. Chapter 46

**Chapter 46**

**The greatest revelation in the history of Charleston**

When the guests were leaving the Grace Episcopal Church, they saw that the former bridal couple and some others, including the French lady in grey gown, were still staying inside the Church. The traditional sympathy and even some sort of collectivism among the old matrons pushed some guests to stay outside in order to realize whether respectable Eleanor Butler and poor Silvia Dawson would need any help. Many scandalmongers of Charleston also remained outside of the Church and were gossiping about the unprecedented scandal when the wedding was so disrespectfully and blatantly discontinued.

Almost all the guests outside were women – old matrons and young unmarried proper ladies of Charleston. The overwhelming majority of them came from the antebellum era that started from the end of _the American Revolution of 1781_ and ended with the defeat of the Confederacy in the civil war with the Yankees in 1865. As a result, the traditions of the Old South, including high conservatism, strict etiquette rules, respectability and ceremoniousness, were still worshiped and in some families even idolized. Therefore, such a unique interruption of the wedding was perceived by Charleston ladies and gentlemen as disrespectful, scandalous, and vulgar. It occupied all their minds, pushing away all other thoughts and problems.

"This lady in the grey gown from the Robillards made quite a scandal," Mrs Bromwell yammered.

"I have heard that her name is Annabelle de Robillard," Mrs Russell said.

Mrs Bromwell nodded. "She seems to be from the French Robillards."

"Our dear Eulalie and Pauline fainted," Miss Barbara Hampton exclaimed.

"My husband took Miss Eulalie and Miss Pauline in our carriage to transport them back home," Mrs Edmondston announced. "They were really shocked. Poor darlings…"

"And Miss Silvia… I remember her on our tea parties. She is an angel, and this scoundrel has dishonored her and her family," Miss Margaret Elsbrow declared with sadness.

"Who is that scandalous, extravagant lady in the grey gown? She must be one of the Robillards from France," Mrs Wondermurt assumed.

"I recognized her French accent," Mrs Russell said.

Mrs Bromwell smiled with a melancholic smile. "It was an artificial accent as later she was talking in perfect English without any accent. She just wanted to show us that she has arrived from France."

"Mrs Bromwell, it doesn't matter who she is. That lady disgraced the Butler family and the Albertson family," Mrs Russell countered.

Mrs Bromwell shook her head in agreement. "Unfortunately, it is so." Her eyes swept over the crowd in front of the Church. "I had never seen that lady in the French grey outdoor dress before she appeared in the church and made that scandal."

"And neither had I," Mrs Edmondston agreed.

"Where is Mrs Ornella Simona Albertson, Silvia's mother?" Miss Barbara Hampton questioned, fluttering her short black eyelashes down. "Is she still inside the Church?"

Mrs Wondermurt wiped her eyes with her white cotton handkerchief. "No, she isn't. Ornella Simona had to take her husband back home urgently. My husband and other gentlemen carried him to Albertson's carriage. He seems to have a heart attack," she mumbled.

"Dear God!" the ladies exclaimed in chorus.

"Yes, Nathaniel Albertson, Silvia's father, fainted immediately after Mr Rhett Butler had announced that there would be no wedding," Mrs Wondermurt pointed out in horror. She blew her nose and shrugged. "This is so awful!"

"It is unprecedented!" Miss Barbara Hampton cried out.

"In addition, Mrs Silvia Dawson is alone inside the Grace Episcopal Church, and even her dear parents cannot support her in this morbid hour," Miss Margaret Elsbrow said, her voice shaking. "I wouldn't have wanted to be in Mrs Dawson's shoes now."

"Exactly, Margaret!" Mrs Brewton cried out. "Mrs Silvia Dawson is completely disgraced as nobody from us, proper Charlestonians, will ever court her after such a scandal."

"Poor Mrs Ornella Simona Albertson!" Mrs Edmondston exclaimed.

"And where is Miss Ornella's younger daughter?" Mrs Bromwell asked.

"Oh! Young _Celestina Marta Albertson_ is with her grandfather in Savannah. She was sick and couldn't attend the wedding," Mrs Edmondston explained and shook her head. "The younger daughter is also disgraced. Her chances for a successful marriage in the South plunged considerably. I am interested what Nathaniel Albertson will do now because he needs to find a match for his daughters."

"Both – the Albertson and the Butler family – are blackened for a long, long time," Mrs Brewton declared. There was a note of sympathy in her voice. "In addition, Pauline and Eulalie Robillard will suffer from this scandal," Mrs Brewton added.

"At least Pauline and Eulalie don't need to be courted! Mrs Silvia Dawson and Miss Rosemary Butler are young, while now Eulalie and Pauline's chances for marriage are negligible," Barbara Hampton wailed.

Many matrons and young ladies of Charleston discussed the disgrace of the Butler and the Albertson families in the aspect of their horrible influence on the chances for _Rosemary Geraldine Butler_, _Silvia Ferdinanda Albertson Dawson_, and _Celestina Marta Albertson_ to get married successfully. They were discussing those things because the role of elite women of both the antebellum and the post-antebellum South of the States included living life in a patriarchal society. It was accepted that as the proper ladies grew and evolved, their role in society changed – the older they were, the sooner a woman's life will be taken from her father's house to her husband's house. Southern gentlemen were accepted to control and watch over their wives in their life because a woman's behavior, either daughter's or a wife's, directly reflected on the man of the house and the whole family. Usually, if a woman in the family did something wrong and even worse something scandalous, the reputation of the whole family was ruined. That's why the recent Scandal around the Butler and Albertson families was perceived as the disgrace of the whole family and the downfall of the chances for successful marriage for Rosemary, Silvia, and Silvia's sister. Although the Old South was defeated a long time ago, nothing had changed in the brains of old matrons and in the society – men still dominated over women in the post-antebellum Southern society, especially in highly conservative cities - Charleston and Savannah.

"Miss Dawson was married to Mr _John Jeremiah Dawson_, that old Yankee from New York. But he died. He was a good man, despite being the Yankee," Mrs Manigault supplied.

"We accepted John Dawson in our hearts because he loved Silvia so much," Mrs Brewton lamented.

"Rhett Butler is a villain! He degraded Miss Silvia. Oh my Lord!" Mrs Wondermurt sniveled.

"We admitted Rhett Butler to our society only because of Miss Eleanor. Now this brazen-faced man will never step on the porch of my house!" Mrs Edmondston added with coldness.

"Exactly!" others agreed almost in chorus.

Mrs Russell furrowed her brows. "Only Miss Rosemary and Miss Eleanor can be accepted, but we must accept them cautiously." Her voice was ringing with finality.

"Now we must wait and know what is going on in the Church," Mrs Bromwell interjected. "Maybe, our dear Eleanor will need our help."

At the same time, in the Church the confrontation – the moment of sweet and bitter truth – continued. The same people were standing in front of the altar in the dead, ominous silence. Nobody spoke and even moved. Each second that strange, ominous, sinister silence was becoming more and more murderous. At last, when the silence had become almost oppressive and sepulchral, a loud voice with French accent spoke, with a certain hard directness and as though it was the final, dogmatic judgment.

"Murdering by poison has a long and tragic history with its roots in ancient Rome. In France it became extremely popular after _Catherine de Medici_ became the wife of _King_ _Henry II of France_. After her arrival to France the King's court transmuted into a real saturnalia of vice when everything could be a reason of death for unwanted individuals: poison could be found in the meal; poison could be dispersed in the air; poison could be administered with the clothes," Annabelle pronounced in a far-away voice. These words were moving away, soared higher and higher to the roof – each word was more and more obtuse – and suddenly a little higher in a vocal pitch of a tone: "Who did this, my dear ladies?"

The sullen, deadening silence followed. It was finally broken by Eleanor Butler.

"Silvia… Silvia… Your mother's distant relatives descend from… from… Italy, don't they?" Eleanor stammered and dropped a strange gaze of confusion at Silvia. She remembered the Italian roots of Silvia's mother and was paralyzed for a moment.

"Your second name is Ferdinanda, which undoubtedly is Italian," Annabelle retorted and a sardonic smile twisted her lips. Her grey eyes turned to be like the eyes of a vital young animal, spirited and dangerous, outraged and hateful, as if she was ready to jump down someone's throat. Her resolute, hard voice spoke. "How did you commit so many murders, Silvia? How could you poison so many guiltless people? Indeed, you are a pattern of a proper Charlestonian lady."

It was true that _Silvia Ferdinanda Albertson Dawson_ had historical roots in Italy. Silvia's mother Ornella Simona Albertson descended from the Montecuccoli noble house_. _The Montecuccoli family originated somewhere in _Bourgogne_, which was the part of France. They settled in the north of Italy in the 10th century. One of her Italian ancestors was a close friend of the _Grand Duke Lorenzo de Medici_ or _Lorenzo the Magnificent_. The Montecuccoli noble house descends from the former _Duchy of Modena_, a small Italian state that existed from 1452 to 1859, was ruled by the noble house of _Este_, and later in 1859 joined with _Tuscany_ and _Parma_ to form the United Provinces of Central Italy. Being art connoisseurs and financiers of commerce in the Northern Italy, the Medici and the Montecuccoli families flourished for centuries in the rough-and-tumble alliances of Europe, especially in France, Austria, and Italy. The Medici house even provided four popes and rulers first in Florence, then all of Tuscany, from about 1430 to 1740.

Among nobles, deaths by poisoning were very common in the dark medieval time and even in the 19th century. The most well-known poisoning by the representatives of the Montecuccoli noble house happened in 1536 when _Count Sebastiano di Montecuccoli_ poisoned _Francis III of Brittany_, _the Duke of Brittany_ and the heir to French throne of _King Francis I_. Serving as a secretary to the poor _Dauphin Francis,_ Sebastiano was known as _Catherine de Medici_'s close friend and came to France under her protection and recommendation when Catherine became a wife of the future _Henry II of France_. Therefore, Silvia's ancestors were legendary poisoners in aristocratic Europe, as well as the Borgia and the Medici families.

In substance, Silvia's ancestors were mightily well-known among the greatest poisoners in _the_ _Tuscany_ and_ the_ _Modena_ areas. The house of Montecuccoli had its favorite method of poisoning, and its representatives were reputed to have murdered many people by pouring lethal fluids of cooper sulfate, both black and blue, into glasses of wine, and they usually kept the poisonous powder in a specially made medallion that a poisoner was wearing on his or her neck in the day and in the night. It was a very sophisticated, highly specific family's method to poison unwanted and disagreeable people. This method was very similar in its cunning and general model to method which _Lucrezia Borgia_, one of the most famous medieval poisoners, used – she was keeping the poisonous powder in her ring called an "envenoming ring."

Many years ago, some of Silvia's forefathers had to escape _the Great Tuscany_ area to avoid disgrace and imprisonment after the murder of one of the powerful dukes in the area. Some of them escaped to the territory of Austro-Hungary, France, Germany, and even to the States, including the American South. There was some time in the aristocratic history of Italian nobility when the representatives of _the _Montecuccolinoble house were officially fulminated anathema by the Catholic Church. It happened in the 16th century. As a result of this public disgrace, the family migration from _the Tuscany _area began. Some of the family members stayed in _Modena_, but many fled the area. The family members migrated to different countries: England, France, German Duchies, Persia, Egypt, colonies in West India, and so on. As the time was passing, some of them migrated from Europe to the United States, including the Old South of the Old South.

Even having escaped from the _Tuscany_ area, these representatives of the Montecuccoli family had an "envenoming medallion", which was supposed to be known and kept carefully by respective family members. They also handed down their murderous knowledge from generation to generation. This practice had been maintained by the representatives of the Montecuccoli family since the 15th century ago.

The Medici family and the Montecuccoli family were friends many centuries ago. The Montecuccoli nobles received their knowledge in the art of poisoning and in alchemy from the Medici family. The Medici used to have their own alchemical laboratory where they tested blue and black cooper sulphate on living animals, some of them wild, as well as on people. As the number of victims was enormous, their knowledge in one specific poison – was blue and black cooper sulphate – was brilliant and masterful. They knew all the doses and the effects of the poisoning on the human body. They knew which other poisonous herbs they had to add in order to increase or decrease the influence of the poison. And, of course, being the Medici's friends, the Montecuccoli family also knew all those terrible things.

_Ornella Simona Albertson_, Silvia Ferdinanda's mother, was an excellent expert in the Italian inheritance of her ancestors and kept their dreadful secret throughout her life, only telling to her precious daughter about the pandemoniac weapon in her hands. Thus, her mother Ornella Simona was the source of Silvia's excellent knowledge in the art of the Medici's poisoning, including the substance of poisons and their different features, methods of assassination by poison, and ability to read some Italian alchemical manuscripts. Of course, her mother told her about their family's underhand method of poisoning, and Silvia Ferdinanda kept the secret of an "envenoming medallion" with a great care. The Montecuccoli family used blue or black cooper sulphate in the majority of cases. In the history there were also known several cases when cooper sulphate was diluted with the cyanide in order to facilitate the death of a victim. They also used poisonous plants as the ingredients together with blue and black cooper sulphate.

Unlike her mother Ornella Simona, who just was keeping the family secret and didn't have innocent blood on her hands, Silvia was indeed a profoundly latent poisoner. The war reduced her family to indigence, which pushed Silvia to get married to _John Jeremiah Dawson_ after the end of the war in order to have money and receive status. The sixty-year-old wealthy Yankee, John Dawson loved his wife very much, but the problem was that she hated him and didn't have life-long plans to live with an old dog and frog, as she called him. Silvia wanted his money and strove to revitalize the grandeur and nobility of her family with deeply aristocratic European roots. She poisoned her first husband by blue cooper sulphate. The motive of his assassination was of the pure monetary nature as she never loved him and wanted to have only the money of this unlucky man. To administer poison into his body, Silvia chose coating an item of clothing with poison and bought for John the excellent riding gloves as a gift on the third anniversary of their wedding. Next day, in the morning, her husband went outside for riding around Charleston and put on his gloves. As he wore them, the poison seeped into the skin and finally into the bloodstream. John Dawson died in nine days after that fateful riding day. Silvia burnt the gloves, and nobody even suspected what had caused John Dawson's sudden sickness and death. It was implicitly assumed that he had died on the back of his old age.

Silvia knew everything about cooper sulphate, both blue and black: the lethal doses for women and men, the symptoms of poisoning, the consequences of poisoning, and the terms of a victim's death. Upon acute oral exposure, copper sulfate proved out to be only moderately toxic. However, if administered in the body of a victim, cooper sulphate was a strong, murderous poison. The Medici experimented in their alchemical laboratory and concluded that the lowest dose of blue copper sulfate that had a toxic impact on humans was around ten-eleven milligrams per one kilo. It meant that for a man of average weight of, say, eighty kilos, the least harmful dose of blue cooper sulphate was around 0.88 grams and the lethal dose – around 3-4 grams, at times less or more, depending on an individual features of a victim's body and health. For an average woman with approximate weight of fifty five kilos the least harmful dose was 0.61 grams and the lethal dose – around 2-3 gram, which also differed depending on the particular case. Of course, it was a strong, murderous poison, and it was always possible to have several grams, at least ten grams, of the poisonous mixture in either an "envenoming ring" or an "envenoming medallion." Silvia usually had in her medallion at least fifteen grams of the poisonous mixture of blue cooper sulphate as the medallion was hollow inside and its hollowness was deep.

Black cooper sulphate represented itself blue cooper sulfate mixed with _sulphurous acid_. Black cooper sulfate was rarer and more toxic than blue cooper sulfate: less black cooper sulphate was necessary to kill a victim – around 2 grams for an average man and 1-1.5 grams for an average woman. However, black cooper sulphate had one disadvantage: it didn't evaporate as quickly as blue poison did. As a result, it was more difficult to identify blue cooper sulphate than black cooper sulphate.

It was known that because of its irritating effect in the throat, vomiting was often automatically triggered in case of the ingestion of copper sulfate with food or drink. Usually, a victim felt terrible dryness in low throat that was rising up to the mouth and lips. This dryness nearly strangled a victim until a person lost his or her conscious. If no antidote was applied and copper sulfate was retained in the stomach, the consequences of the poisoning were ferocious. After several grams of copper sulfate were swallowed, such poisoning signs may have occurred as a metallic taste in the mouth, burning pain in the chest, nausea, diarrhea, constant vomiting, headache, and discontinued urination, leading to yellowing of the skin. If the poisoning by copper sulfate was very severe, retrograde changes could have occurred in the body of a victim, including injuries to the brain, stomach, throat, liver, lungs, and kidneys. Either blue or black cooper sulphate didn't kill immediately, and it usually took between ten days and two weeks for a victim to die, if the lethal dose was administered in the body of that person. Often a victim remained unconscious throughout all the time till its death.

If cooper sulphate was mixed with other chemical poisons or poisonous plants, the death could either be accelerated or slowed and the symptoms of poisoning may change. Silvia liked to add _atropa belladonna_, _nerium_ _oleander_, _lantana camara_, _mistletoe_, and _datura stramonium_ (_jimson weed)_. For her husband John Dawson she mixed blue cooper sulphate with belladonna, oleander, and jimson weed.

Most often, Silvia used belladonna and oleander. If mixed with belladonna, the poisonous mixture produced even more profound effect: a victim became sensitive to light; its vision was blurred; terrible headache harshly stabbed a victim if wasn't unconscious; a victim was suffering from hallucinations if conscious; agonizing convulsions were often observed; rash, flushing, dry mouth and throat, as well as slurred speech, were other typical symptoms. Belladonna was used as a poison in historical battles as well. Thus, in a battle between England and Scotland, _Duncan I of Scotland_ poisoned the invading English troops with belladonna, thereby defeating them. In addition, the ancient Roman emperor _Octavian Augustus_ was supposedly poisoned with belladonna by his wife, Livia. Silvia liked oleander because it was extremely poisonous, produced severe digestive upset, and, most importantly for her, affected a heart of a victim in such a harsh way that cardio rhythm became so low that a heart could easily stop beating. Silvia liked jimson weed because its administration into the body of a victim resulted in abnormal thirst, distorted sight, delirium, incoherence, and coma or semi-comatose state. In general, Silvia had profound knowledge in hermetic art.

Silvia was happy to get rid of her first husband and was leading a life of a widow in mourning for several years after her husband's death. When Silvia met Rhett Butler and learnt that he was one of the richest people in the whole South, she immediately clapped her eye on him as a potential husband. Rhett was mature and not old, like her first husband. Besides, he was devilishly handsome, and Silvia considered him ideal potential husband. She didn't have children and, being in her late twenties, began to think of settling down and having family with a proper gentleman. She had enough money she inherited from her unfortunate husband, and her next husband had to be a unique man in accordance with her reasoning. Rhett wasn't a proper gentleman in its true sense, but an element of doubtful, caddish-related spots in his biography and his money attracted her mentally sick, greedy nature. She liked that he was a blackguard because she also was a latent blackguard and a black sheep in a proper Charleston society with her monstrous secret in Italian poisoning. The difference between them was that she couldn't show her true personality in reality.

In fact, Silvia's infatuation with Rhett was very strong, and it was growing with each day after Rhett had started calling on her in her parents' house on the High Battery, which she purchased for her husband's money. She dreamed of meeting him at regular tea parties and charity events. There was a sort of strong physical gravitation to Rhett, and Silvia felt it with all her bones and skin. Her knees usually started trembling when Rhett approached her and talked to her. Rhett Butler was the first man with whom she desperately wanted to have intimacy and give herself to him completely. Her intimate life with her old husband was so poor and disgusting that she hated marital duties from the bottom of her heart and couldn't imagine herself with any man, except for Rhett Butler. Moreover, Silvia wasn't strikingly beautiful and didn't have an eye-catching appearance, and she also was very unskillful in the art of attraction and seduction of men to her. She couldn't make any man she wanted be wrapped around her little finger. When Rhett Butler proposed to her, she accepted without any hesitation, but she knew that he never loved and would love her. Silvia guessed that he wanted to please his family and cement his reputation in Charleston forever. Accepting Rhett's marriage proposal, she hoped that it wasn't too late for her to reignite her sexuality at her age and fan it into a roaring fire at least once in her life.

Silvia saw that Rhett was indifferent to their wedding and got accustomed to his cool aloofness and nonchalance. But when at the dinner at the Bromwells' house Rhett called her by the name of his former wife and later she learnt much information about Scarlett, Silvia had the wind-up and panicked. Initially, she was lucky to have Rosemary Butler among her allies because Rhett's sister hated Scarlett and didn't want him to come back to her. Rosemary helped her to fight Scarlett and drive her apart from Rhett by ransacking Rhett's study and bedroom and getting compromising facts of Rhett's biography, which Silvia couldn't do on her own.

However, their plan fractured in small pieces when Scarlett left for Rhett her farewell letter disclosing him that she knew about his son with Belle Watling and the existence of his fiancée from Charleston. Rhett's reaction to Scarlett's actions irritated both Silvia and Rosemary, and Silvia completely lost her mind in her covetousness and greediness when Rhett claimed Robert as his legitimate son. Silvia Ferdinanda was afraid that Robert Butler, Rhett's new son, would take money from the family, and hence she recklessly wanted to kick him away from the Butler family. With this intention, she visited Belle Watling's establishment in Atlanta in the anticipation of the necessity to poison Belle if she rejected to tell Rhett that Robert wasn't his blood, like Silvia wanted. With this, Silvia's hand assassinated in a cold-blooded manner the former Madame of the whorehouse Belle Watling who became her second victim. Silvia prepared for Belle blue cooper sulphate mixed with belladonna and jimson weed. That time she didn't add oleander, which could cause a stop of a victim's heart, because she wanted Belle to torment before her death in her unconscious state resulted from the combination of blue cooper sulphate and jimson weed in the poison.

Furthermore, Silvia's plan shattered at the art event at the National Gallery of London when they unexpectedly met Scarlett and Annabelle. When she overheard the conversation in the alcove of the parlor, she realized that her and Rosemary's initial plan helped them estranged Scarlett from Rhett only on a temporary basis. Her evil brain concluded that Rhett and Scarlett would reunite soon, and she lost the remainder of her wisdom, reality perception, and sanity.

When Silvia met Scarlett at the Meades' house in Atlanta, she was thunderstruck with Scarlett's beauty and charm, thriving even in her sickness, and she grasped the truth how dangerous Scarlett was for her plans. In contrast to Scarlett, Silvia Ferdinanda didn't know how to bat her eyes seductively, pout her lips and smile in a way that promised skills any man would die for. Scarlett appeared to be very professional in men's seduction and followed an approach "playing hard to get" by creating enough mystery and sexual tension between the couple, which made a man feel good about himself and deepened his initial perception of a lady and his attraction to her. By nature, Silvia wasn't capable of it. Besides, she understood that Scarlett and Rhett were too much alike when she saw how brilliant Scarlett's indifference-courtesy game was. Scarlett was behaving like Rhett, and this drained Silvia emotionally. Silvia envied Scarlett with all her dark bile, terrific malice, and irremediable hatred in her hellish heart. Later, having overheard Annabelle and Scarlett's conversation about Rhett's children, the hottest anger seized all her body and her temper boiled. Therefore, in despair and powerlessness to retain her hold of Rhett, she decided to kill Scarlett in her favorite manner. Silvia experienced devilment in poisoning Scarlett who was her bitterest enemy. Her initial intention was to make Annabelle and Scarlett and Annabelle keep silent about the children, and she didn't plan to poison other people at that art event. However, she couldn't do it otherwise because she didn't have personal access to Annabelle and Scarlett's house and thus had to pour her evil powder of blue cooper sulphate to the bottle of wine and lemonade on their table.

After Annabelle's accusation tirade, everybody was looking at Silvia with silent question and in anticipation. Silvia was speechless and in stupor because she knew that it was the end of her devilish, bloody game. She didn't think that Annabelle and Scarlett may survive the poisoning. And, of course, she couldn't imagine that Annabelle would come to Charleston to stop her wedding with Rhett in such an affectionate manner. Silvia realized that if she became a suspicion in Belle Watling's deal, somebody of Belle's girls could have recognized her voice and her figure, although she did everything possible to preserve her confidentiality by wearing black mourning gown with non-transparent black veil and hat, which covered all her face. If Annabelle and Scarlett died and Rhett continued to be so indifferent to his life, nobody would ever associate her with these murders. Now, when all her plans shattered in small pieces and she lost Rhett and his money, it was useless to deny her co-partnership in these crimes. Silvia Ferdinanda didn't want to be publicly disgraced and lately imprisoned and decided in favor of her beloved method to help her conscience disappear from this terrible world.

Annabelle raised her head, and under her gaze, a cold dread ran through the veins of everybody as they had never seen such a glance before. "Why did you do this, Silvia? I see the frantic fear in your face."

A silence followed. It was the watchful, tired, tense silence that was almost dead and cemeterial.

Silvia dropped her hands to her sides, and a slight rustle of fabric of her silk wedding gown broke the absolute silence. Her movement caught the periphery of Rhett's senses. He straightened his spine. His pulse pounded hard and fast in his ears. He ought to call out, he knew to truth. This was hardly the most fearful moment he had ever had in the past years, excluding the moment when Bonnie fell from her pony and broke her neck. But he was holding his tongue back and waiting.

Rhett made an effort and focused on reality. He stared at Silvia with hard, accusing gaze. "Why did you do it?" As he began to speak at last, he averted his gaze.

"I did this to be with Rhett because I couldn't let Scarlett take him away from me," Silvia spelled out slowly. She continued to look at emptiness of the Church. Everybody stared at her in horror.

Her dreadful confession rang in his ears. "Silvia, you are the devil incarnate," he said. His mouth dried. Every thought fled his brain except one: it was Silvia who tried to kill Scarlett.

"No, Rhett." Silvia laughed, and it was a thin little laugh. "I am just a woman who always gets what she wants. And I wanted you."

"I daresay that you are the most villainous woman I have ever met." Annabelle's voice quivered to a halt.

"Silvia… Silvia…" Rosemary and Eleanor looked at each other, then at Silvia in their numbness. Something in Silvia's voice made them realize she was serious.

Rhett dashed his right hand across his black brow. "Worse than villainous," he amended. A faint tremor went across his shoulders.

"You are a notorious poisoner, which is so traditional for the Medici-related families," Annabelle proclaimed in a loud sorrowful voice.

"She is a latent murderer," Rhett added.

"I thought I looked rather like an angel," Silvia scoffed.

"You? An angel?" Rhett laughed ruefully. "Now you hardly look as an angel when we know the truth."

Annabelle released a bitter laugh. "Silvia, you used to look as a proper lady. You were very good at your masquerade. It is a compliment to you."

Silvia's lips twitched. "You don't understand. I am Italian in my heart."

Annabelle laughed at her reasoning. "I understand, don't worry. I know other people like you." She paused. "Where did you get the poison of such superlative rarity?"

"My family originated in the area of _Modena, _later a part of_ Tuscany and Parma._ Some of my ancestors migrated in the United States a long time ago. My historical roots come to the ancient Montecuccoli noble house," Silvia promulgated loudly with evident proud, and echo improved multiply the repercussion effect of her words.

Annabelle strained her mind as she tried to remember famous Italian aristocrats. As her mind brightened up, she began to speak. "Montecuccoli sounds familiar. This family was related to the Medici noble house, wasn't it?"

"Oh, yes," Silvia nodded. "The Medici has always been the friends of our family."

"Wasn't theMontecuccoli family prohibited from the church in _Modena_ and _Tuscany_ for some time on the back of the numerous discovered murders in the 16th century, if I am not mistaken?" Annabelle inquired as she quickly recollected from the memory this event.

"You know so much about European aristocracy, Madame Annabelle de Robillard," Silvia busted into mad, uncontrollable laugh. "You are right, my dear. You are a pure French aristocratic lady."

Annabelle smiled. "I remember that the murders committed by the Montecuccoli nobles weren't limited by Italy. _Count Sebastiano di Montecuccoli_ was an Italian nobleman in the service of _Francis I of France_, and he was executed for allegedly having poisoned the King's eldest son. Sebastiano was secretary to _Dauphin Francis_, the heir to the French throne. However, the Dauphin unexpectedly died in 1536, and he was poisoned by Sebastiano who gave a glass of poisoned water to him. In addition, a book about toxicology and alchemy was found in Sebastiano's possession. I also remember that _Count Sebastiano di Montecuccoli _had come to France with _Catherine de Medici_."

Silvia laughed. "Great knowledge!"

The expression of Annabelle's face was ambiguous. "Many French nobles remember this story."

Silvia blinked. "I suppose so."

"This is awful!" Rosemary lamented.

"My God!" Eleanor looked frightened.

Annabelle raised a brow. "As your ancestors were anathematized in _Modena_, it means that there were more notorious poisoners. Who they were? Was it _Count_ _Raimondo di Montecuccoli_?"

Silvia pressed her lips together and then shook her head in negative response. "No." She looked around at everybody's faces. Then her eyes swung to Annabelle. "_Count Raimondo di Montecuccoli_ was born in the beginning of the 17th century and died in 1680. He was an Italian military general who also served as general for the Austrians. He was also a prince of _the Holy Roman Empire. _He wasn't a poisoner. Raimondo was simply very famous, and that is why you, Annabelle, remember him. On the contrary, Raimondo was one of the most honest among the representatives of the Montecuccoli noble house."

"Who was the most notorious poisoner?" Rhett asked curiously.

Silvia turned her head and stared at Rhett. "From the Montecuccoli family, it was _Count Girolamo di Montecuccoli_, the son of _Count Sebastiano di Montecuccoli. _Girolamo was a well-deserved son of his own father. He and his two sons poisoned many people in _Modena_. As a result, Girolamo and his children were anathematized in the middle of 15th century. Girolamo had six children, and all of them had to flee the area of _Modena_. Girolamo's younger brother Fabrizio stayed in _Modena_, and he was the ancestor of famous honest _Count Raimondo di Montecuccoli._"

Annabelle's heart was beating to suffocation. "And _Count Girolamo di Montecuccoli_ was your relative, Silvia?"

Silvia smiled brightly and leaned nearer Annabelle. "Assuredly. Unfortunately, they had to escape from Modena. Girolamo's son Gennaro migrated to one of the German Duchies. Later Gennaro's son Aldobrandino moved to the colonies in the States. Girolamo, Gennaro, and Aldobrandino are my ancestors through my mother Ornella Simona."

Rhett furrowed his brow, alarm skittering through him. "Silvia, you were keeping the secret knowledge in the art of poisoning throughout all these years?"

Silvia shrugged. "It is the tradition of the family to hand down our knowledge from generation to generation."

"Great tradition," Rhett said with dark irony. "Cat got someone's tongue."

"So your family used only blue or black cooper sulphate from Medici's collection?" Annabelle shrugged and laughed sardonically. Everybody looked at her in perplexity. "And this is all?"

Silvia narrowed eyes, foretelling the tingling pride in some particular imagining. "What do you mean, Annabelle?" she asked.

"I just mean that these are such usual poisons. There are very well-known in France after Catherine Medici's… erm… deplorable activities, including murders. I thought that you could have used something more sophisticated like the Borgia's _Cantarella_," Annabelle smiled broadly, but sadly.

Silvia began to laugh hysterically till the tears formed in her hazel eyes. Everybody looked at her in bewilderment and shock.

"_Cantarella_ is a very nice poison. It is very rare and, most importantly, the slow poison which allows the manipulation of the length of time before death. Our family used only Medici's poisons," Miss Dawson's mouth produced. "It is so pity that I don't have it in its pure view."

There were two most famous Italian poisoners in history – the Medici family and the Borgia family. As it had been mentioned, the Medici used black and blue cooper sulphate, as well as arsenic and many other poisonous herbs. The Medici family and the Borgia family were able on the one hand to prepare the so-called "eternity powders" that warranted to insure death in a few minutes. On the other hand, they were capable to manufacture the so-called "time poisons" which killed within a desired period will never be known.

The Borgias were probably worse than the Medici family. They were experts in poisoning in their mind, latent poisoners. They were perfect, highly skilled masters in the decoction of poisons for the human body, and they achieved and attained that murderous mastery which had never been equaled in the history of the human race. However, their skills and knowledge of the terrible art died with many of them, and only some descendants of the Borgia family, who lived in the 19th century, were able to do the same what their ancestors had done in the 15th and the 16th centuries. The Borgias left in the history the name of the dreadful poison – "_Cantarella_". At the same time, but the secret of its preparation and the manner of its use were buried with them. In the second half of the 19th century only few descendents of the Borgias possessed _Cantarella_. In addition, some privileged doctors in Europe - usually the doctors who served as private King's doctors or Emperor's doctors or doctors at the Foreign Offices – had the poisonous mixture of _Cantarella_. _Cantarella _was a very rare poison.

_Cantarella _was a dazzling white powder based on arsenic, some Cantharidine powder, as well as some other unknown components. Those unknown components were known only to the Borgia descendants and very few people from the outside world. The Borgias disdained the use of many poisons, like arsenic, in their pure form as something too coarse and too obvious. It was too simple for their sophisticated, murderous minds. They always mixed the poisons, like _Cantarella_ was the perfect result of mixture of the poisonous powders, some if which unknown.

To ascertain the exact effects of the given quantities of the poison and the given poisonous mixtures, _Pope Alexander VI_ and his son _Cesare Borgia, Duke of Valentinois_, experimented for a long time on living animals. However, those experiments were not enough for the Borgias, and next they tried out their preparations on human beings. A great number of their diabolic experiments provided them with that preeminence in the art of poisoning that had always been associated with the name of Borgia worldwide. It was well-known that the victims, always beggars, prisoners, or the enemies, having served their purpose, were flung into the Tiber through the secret passageways in _the Castel S. Angelo_. Making experiments on living animals and on living people, the Borgias discovered that when _Cantarella_ was mixed with inorganic matter, it tended to lose none of its lethal qualities, but killed in a more unostentatious way. In that way the Borgias learned the art of making doses of varying strength, or in other words how to prepare the "time poisons." Of course, much depended upon the method how the poison was administered in the human body and upon the mixture with wine, milk and other liquids.

It was said that the Borgia family had been probably worse than the Medici family because the Borgias had been known to often use _Cantarella_ for their old friends and even their close relatives. If the Borgias wanted it, rich, influential people who were close to the papal court, like cardinals and other influential churchmen, were removed by what one of the Borgias facetiously called the "liquor of succession." The estates of victims always passed quickly into the hands of _Pope Alexander VI_ or his son _Cesare Borgia, Duke of Valentinois_ or the pope's daughter _Lucrezia Borgia_.

* * *

_Now I will give you some information about poisoning, referring to some historical facts._

_The Montecuccoli family was historically known to be one of the notorious poisoners in Italy, France, and later Austro-Hungary. They were Medici's friends. The historical fact is also that in 15th-16th century many of them had to migrate from Italy as they were anathematized, and some of them migrated even to the States. For the purposes of the fiction I assumed that some of them settled down somewhere in the USA and later in Charleston when it was founded in 1670. Montecuccoli were using only Medici's poisons as they didn't have their own alchemical laboratory._

_All these kinds of poisons were really used in the past. Blue/black cooper sulphate and arsenic were Medici's poisons, while so-called Cantarella was the dreadful weapon in the Borgia's hands. It is also truth that the antidote to Cantarella was lost because Cesare Borgia took it in his tomb, leaving a formula of the poison for the next generation. It is spoken that later even the formula was lost, but that was the worst poison in the medieval times._

_Antidotes to Medici's poisons became quite well-known in France and England when infamous French doctor Ambroise Paré in 16th century had to treat the poisoned member of the King's family. Somehow antidotes have been known to some distinguished, privileged doctors since that time. I don't remember the details of this story, but it undoubtedly happened with the help of Ambroise Pare's actions._

_Both Medici and Borgia had their special alchemical laboratories. While Medici tested their poisons on the poor population (it is well-known that Catherine de Medici sent her people to the prisons for the poor to take some of them for further tests), Borgia tested their poison on each other and simple people who irritated them (they were monstrous people). These crazy families transferred their dark secrets to the next generations up until certain time. In later chapters it will be mentioned._

_Just to remind to you - I like dramatics and emotions. This story is like a maze: you have many imaginary exits, but only one of them is correct. At times truth is so sophisticated._

_As always, reviews are appreciated. Thank you very much._


	47. Chapter 47

**Chapter 47**

**Tragedy in the Grace Episcopal Church**

Annabelle's lips stirred in a sardonic smile. "_Cantarella_ permits killing at a more or less long interval after its absorption, my dear Silvia, like cooper sulphate with additional ingredients if you know the mixture, ingredients, and change them in accordance with poisoner's preferences," Annabelle retorted. "I am disappointed, Silvia. As a notorious poisoner, you should have known that there are antidotes to cooper sulphate. It would be better to use _Cantarella_ as there are no antidotes to this helluva poison."

Eleanor's voice revealed a latent tremor. "Good Heavens! This is abominable!"

Silvia let out a chilling laugh. "Madame Annabelle, it seems to me that being twice poisoned gave you some knowledge in the art of poisoning."

Silvia laughed. She raised her chin. "I have a great power over all of you because I know what you don't know – the Medici's alchemic recipes. I can use any kind of cooper sulphate and in any mixture." Silvia laughed maniacally and loudly. "But I didn't know that I couldn't help you go to your son and husband, Madame Annabelle. Even without antidote you would suffer for some time and anyway survive because your body cells are accustomed to this poison, even though you had stopped taking it."

Annabelle stared at Silvia. "I know about it, Silvia."

Silvia laughed again. "Oh, I believe you."

Annabelle's grey eyes narrowed to slits. "What you gave us was the pure Medici's blue cooper sulphate?"

Silvia laughed fiercely. "At the art event there was pure blue cooper sulphate mixed with some _datura stramonium_ in Latin or _jimson weed _in usual language. I didn't have some other ingredients and components with me, but that should have been enough to send all of you on eternal rest. Belle Watling had blue cooper sulphate with some powder of _atropa_ _belladonna_ to increase her sufferings – to give her severest dryness of mouth and throat, stronger convulsions, rash," she explained. Then she laughed again.

"Bless my heart!" Eleanor shrilled in a low voice.

Annabelle laughed at the whole mess created by that villainous woman in their lives. It was a blood-curdling, hair-raising laugh, a bitter laugh. "My God!" Rosemary made a sound, somewhere between a groan and a sob. "I don't know the names of these dreadful poisons."

"You are a fallen angel, Silvia," she said with dark irony.

Silvia smiled in that devilishly sweet smile. "And to facilitate Belle Watling's paralysis and death, I also added _jimson weed_ that usually causes distorted sight, delirium, incoherence and coma."

Rhett felt hot anger burning him inside. "I could kill you right now, Silvia," he hissed.

Silvia gaze an indifferent glance to Rhett. "Nothing could have helped Belle." Her face resuscitated with a smile. She repeated: "Nothing could have helped that lowdown prostitute from Atlanta. I did everything I could to make her torment on the deathbed."

"My daughter Silvia Ferdinanda, you aren't yourself!" Reverend Fletcher said. His voice was cracking.

"Silvia, you have gone mad. I could kill you with my bear hands for what you have done," Rhett roared loudly and approached her, but Annabelle made him a sign to stop.

"Why didn't you try to assassinate only Scarlett and me? Why an innocent twelve-year boy Charles and my cousin Geoffroy? Why, Silvia?" the grey-eyed French lady interrogated in a low voice.

"I didn't have any other opportunity to do it, Madame Annabelle, apart from when everybody left to attend the firework during the goddamned ball. I had to get rid of you and Scarlett to keep Rhett with me," Silvia turned around and approached Annabelle. Her blazing, cold eyes of a murderess locked with sad Annabelle's grey orbs. A hatred and rage disappeared from Annabelle's eyes - only pity and yearning were left there. Rhett cast down at Silvia his coal eyes, shimmering with wild rage.

"Silvia, how can you do it to us? Silvia, you aren't yourself and you don't know what you are saying. Please tell me that you didn't do this," Rosemary cried out in despair. She looked dumbfounded.

"Silvia, darling… Please, tell us that it isn't truth! I cannot believe…" frightened Eleanor mumbled. She felt dizziness in her knees and had to settle in the nearest wooden pew.

Rosemary also continued her groans and pleas. She shut her blue eyes. "Silvia… Silvia… Please tell us that this is a dream and that when I open my eyes I will realize I was sleeping…"

"Rosemary, my dear," Silvia went on briskly. "This is not a dream. It is truth."

"Oh no! My Lord!" Rosemary couldn't open her eyes. "How could you do it? No, I cannot believe! I just cannot!"

The priest's eyes were wide and horrified. "Miss Dawson, please tell us that this is a mistake…" Reverend Fletcher mumbled.

"No," Silvia whispered the word. "This is not a mistake."

"Gracious Heavens!" Eleanor groaned.

Rosemary flashed her eyes open. "Silvia, how could you be so cruel to us? Christ in Heaven!"

Annabelle shot Silvia hateful, yet condescending look. "No wonder she is so cruel-hearted. She is the devil incarnate."

Rhett shook his head firmly in positive response. "Holy mackerel! She is a demoness."

"Mercy on us!" Eleanor muttered. "Mercy on us!"

Reverend Fletcher's face turned bloodless. "Worship God! Worship God!" His voice was half whisper.

Silvia made a sign for silence, and a heavy, audible stillness again fell on all the participants of this anfractuous drama. She smiled with a hellish sweetness and broke the pause.

"I did this because I had to dispose of this piece of trash - Scarlett. I hate her so much because Rhett loves her and not me," Silvia paused and looked at Rhett with intensity.

"Don't say so about Scarlett," Rhett warned her.

"Rhett, you were the only man in whom I was interested genuinely and completely. You ravished me when I first met you and since that moment I couldn't forget you," Silvia confessed.

Rhett smiled ambiguously, his voice with dangerous notes. "You couldn't forget me, couldn't you?"

"I couldn't forget you!" Silvia repeated. "But damned Scarlett messed up my cards."

"I will hang you for hurting Scarlett," Rhett threatened.

"It seems probable," Silvia agreed carelessly. "But you will have no chance, my dear fiancé."

Rhett barely suppressed his anger. "I will have a chance. I promise."

"If you have me imprisoned, I will not be of much use," Silvia said.

"Silvia, you what you did is unforgivable," Annabelle interjected.

"And who said I want forgiveness?" Silvia burst into violent laugh. "Rhett, you are the only man with whom I have ever dreamed of having marital duties. You have a spell over many women, Rhett. I am in a sort of love with you… It is unthinkable feeling for me, and you put it in my heart."

"Silvia, how could you try to murder Scarlett, a woman whom I love from the bottom of my heart, if you appreciate me so much?" Rhett broke the silence.

Reverend Fletcher was speechless and motionless.

"Rhett, darling, Scarlett couldn't make you happy, and I could. We are so much alike… We are two cads and renegades, which has always attracted me to you. I could never tell in public which kind of secret my family had always kept from our Italian past, but nevertheless I have always knew whom I was," Silvia's voice sounded proud, her eyes snapping fire. All her posture expressed how arrogant Silvia was in recognition of her aristocratic belonging to the ancient family of the notorious poisoners. Silvia smiled broadly, but it was a smile of one of the daemons – a hellishly sweet, unearthly smile. She looked at Rhett, and their eyes locked for an instance: everything was written in her hazel eyes – all-absorbing obsession, cold fearlessness, arrant devilry.

"Silvia, we are not alike. I have never killed a woman whom I love. Besides, being a cad and a murderess or a murderer are completely different things. Why did you kill Belle?" Rhett questioned, his coal eyes glistering with a mixture of shock, amusement, and hatred.

Silvia raised her head proudly, waiving everybody to silence: "No, Rhett, we are so much alike! You will never persuade me in the opposite. We were meant for each other. Belle had to die for her carnal sins. She was an inveterate prostitute who lived on your money! I hated the she was living on your money! I couldn't let her disgrace the Butler family. I proposed her to tell you that he is not your son, but she rejected to do that. And I hated her so much! I hated that dirty prostitute! I had to kill Belle Watling!"

"My daughter Silvia Ferdinanda, you should make a confession to the city authorities today. What you did is a dreadful sin. You need to come home by Willow Cross," Reverend Fletcher said to Silvia and shifted forward in her side, but Silvia bounced from him like a scalded cat.

"Silvia, you are insane. A murder is a devilish, violent crime. You think of yourself as the greatest _femme fatale_, don't you? In fact, you are an unsatisfied, unconfident, envious woman who doesn't have other weapon against competitors, save for murdering them," Rhett stated, his voice like a dragon, his eyes darker and darker. Somewhere in his heart an omnipotent fire was slowly revolting, and rage began to blot out everything else. He knew that the memories of this day would haunt him till his dying day.

Horrified and startled, Rosemary was sobbing. "Oh, my goodness! Silvia, how could you betray us so almighty? You were my friend."

"You were my friend too, Rosemary. I love you, my dear… I told you once that we had helped each other and would always help. Life is a temporary existence with constant drifting to eternity. Some people have no right to live, like, Rhett, your precious Scarlett who spoiled your life and deprived me of my happiness," Silvia said.

Rosemary clapped her hand over her mouth. "Oh my Lord!"

"Look at her, Rosemary! You helped a murderess," Rhett laughed sardonically and scornfully glanced at Rosemary. "Your intrigues, my dearest sister, could have resulted in Scarlett's death."

"Rhett, I didn't know, I didn't know!" Rosemary repeated over and over again.

"It doesn't matter, Rosemary. The fact remains the fact," Rhett countered her. "Don't make a martyr of yourself."

Rosemary continued to lament. "Rhett, I didn't know."

"There are horrid intrigues under the mask of a proper lady, and nothing more." Annabelle shook her head, looking at Silvia with pity and disdain. She glanced at Rosemary, not understanding whether Rosemary was playing or not. She scoffed: "What a crowd of proper ladies from Charleston…"

"I am much more proper than you are, Annabelle, and, certainly, Scarlett. I have never victimized Rhett," Silvia snapped confidently, her hazel eyes sending her sneer to Annabelle's grey eyes.

Annabelle sighed heavily. "Yes, you are so proper, but only in your imagination," she jeered.

"Silvia, you nearly killed Scarlett, and you murdered several people. It is even worse than victimization." Rhett's voice was an awful voice, seconded by an awful look at the princess of the darkness.

"My Lord," Rosemary whimpered, her hands pressed to her heart.

"Rosemary, now you are a great martyr… You love this role, my dear sister," Rhett said, his voice infiltrated with sadness and even disbelief. "What will be tomorrow?"

Annabelle laughed sadly. "Natural Magdalen in Penitence."

A new pregnant, awkward silence followed. This time it was a short pause.

Rhett put his hand over his face and shook his head. "Indeed, Silvia is a great martyr," he scoffed.

Reverend Fletcher was in horror. "Mr Butler and Madame de Robillard! Please don't take the name of God in vain."

Annabelle cast an apologetic glance at the priest. "We are sorry, Reverend Fletcher."

"We are sorry," Rhett added. He stared at Rosemary. "And you, my dear, helped this Devil incarnate." He showed at Silvia. "You helped Silvia!"

"Mr Butler, please don't take the name of God in vain!" Reverend implored.

"I am sorry," Rhett said apologetically.

"I didn't know! Rhett," Rosemary blurted out the first words that her numb brain could produce.

"Rosemary, anyway you helped a murderess – Silvia," Eleanor moaned under her breath. The poor old woman felt her knees trembling as her nerves stretched tighter and tighter. Eleanor clenched her fingers into her palms so hard that some bleeding began on her right palm, but she didn't see and didn't feel it. Fear and shock entwisted each cell of her body more and more deeply, tauter and tauter.

"My daughter Silvia Ferdinanda, you must make a confession and repent in your mortal sins," Reverend Fletcher began.

Silvia laughed loudly, nearly uncontrollably. "I don't believe in God, my dear Reverend."

"Oh!" Eleanor groaned. "What a God-awful thing to say!"

Annabelle stared at Silvia. "Silvia, you are next door to blasphemy and to hell," she said, her voice out-of-the-way.

"Rhett and my family fill all my heart," Silvia said with ingenuous pathos.

"No, Silvia, you are mistaken. Yellow bile and ash fill your heart," Annabelle objected mildly.

"Silvia, your soul is ashy-dry – it is overwhelmed by dust and ashes like Pompeii." Rhett's voice was steady, with the aroma of iron-grey cinder.

"There is no God - there is only a will of a human being. Some people have authority over others, some deserve only miserable life. Everything is quite transparent," Silvia finished her tirade.

"Silvia, your low cunning and wile are beyond boundaries. Your insanity is unquestionable and incontestable. I could kill you with my bare hands for what you have done to Scarlett and Annabelle. I hope God won't punish me so severely," Rhett hissed and stepped forward to Silvia.

"Rhett, calm down and wait. Silvia, are your murderous escapades limited by the murder at the art event in London and Belle Watling's case?" Annabelle demanded Silvia to answer. She sighed heavily, her eyes fixed on Silvia's ghostly pale face, face of a murderess. Annabelle made a step forward, but stopped herself. She didn't feel hatred, but rather pain for such profound loss in her life. She heard the soft muffled sound of her own footsteps dying away in the vacuum of the Church. She half closed her eyes and spelled out: "My gut feeling says that it isn't so."

"Annabelle, you won. You outmaneuvered me in the first stage of my plan, but not in the last." Silvia paused and sidestepped further to the altar, throwing up her arm towards Annabelle. "You are a perceptive French girl, my dear. I also had to get rid of my first husband and gave him the poisoned riding gloves. I bought them as a gift for him on the anniversary of our wedding. I hated him so much and all I needed was his money and status. I hope that he is turning in his grave now. I was so happy when he died, this old dog and frog."

Eleanor Butler made a sign of the cross on her chest and started praying. "Silvia… Oh my Lord! My good, good Lord!" she babbled and clapped her hands.

Rosemary shut her eyes as though in disbelief that it could happen. "Oh my Goodness!" she murmured. "We must worship God! Silvia is a murderess!"

Rhett shook his head in disbelief. "I don't believe that you killed only your old husband _John Jeremiah Dawson_."

Silvia smiled with a diabolic smile. "You are right, my dear Rhett. I also killed several other people. I killed when I needed to get rid of unwanted people."

"My God! My dear God!" Eleanor Butler cried out. Her blue eyes revealed utter sense of horror.

Annabelle sighed. "I knew that you are a notorious poisoner. It is in your blood."

"Indeed, I am Italian in my blood. I am the Montecuccoli!" Silvia said proudly.

"My daughter Silvia Ferdinanda, you have terrible sins in your heart and soul. You don't accept Jesus Christ as your Savior, and therefore you cannot go to Heaven. I am exhorting to your repent, my daughter Silvia," the priest preached.

"Don't you have a fear of death, Silvia? Aren't you afraid of getting directly into hell for your murders?" Annabelle goaded in a small voice.

For Annabelle this conversation wasn't only facing a murderess of her second cousin _Marquis Geoffroy de Boisy_ and young _Marquis Charles de Bréval_. She also was face-to-face with a woman similar to that one who poisoned her son and her husband many years ago. This woman was Sybille, also a lady-in-waiting at _Napoleon III's_ court and a beautiful French aristocrat descending from the rich family. Sybille was a star at _Napoleon III's_ court and was nicknamed _Venus of Compiègne_, which was _Napoleon III_ and_ Empress Eugenie's_ autumn residence. She loved Annabelle's second husband _Count Etienne de Brienne, _who had been her fiancé before he met Annabelle and fell in mad love with her. Etienne broke their engagement one month before the wedding and proposed to Annabelle. Annabelle accepted and soon they married. Although Etienne was as delicate and as courteous as it was possible, Sybille felt sharp pain and was highly distressed. She had never forgiven Etienne and Annabelle. As her wicked nature overcame benevolent parts of her heart and soul, Sybille decided to take revenge on Annabelle for taking Etienne, a man whom she loved, from her. She decided that Annabelle wouldn't have Etienne if she no longer had him. As a result, she poisoned _Count Etienne de Brienne_ and Annabelle's son Lancelot by the huge dose of black cooper sulphate.

However, in contrast to Silvia, Sybille wasn't a notorious, latent poisoner with Italian roots like Silvia. She was just a wicked woman, mad with jealousy and rancorous, hateful and full of malice, cruel and black-hearted. Besides, the poisoning of Annabelle's family was such a typical case when somebody was poisoned in the Emperor's palace or in the garden that almost nobody seemed to notice that Annabelle's family was murdered during the Christmas ball at the Emperor's Palace – _the Élysée Palace_, which became a used most of all as a place of entertainment during the _Second French Empire_. Its famous guests included _Empress Eugénie_ and her mother during the interval between her engagement and her wedding, _Queen Victoria of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland_, _Russian Tzar Alexander II_, _Sultan Abdulaziz_ _of the Ottoman Empire_, _Emperor Franz Joseph I Austro-Hungary_, _King Oscar_ _II_ _of Sweden_, and others. Unfortunately, everything ended with formal condolences and formal police report that the criminal cannot be detected and hence punished. There was no single evidence against Sybille, and she wasn't arrested. However, courtiers were whispering that it was Sybille who poisoned Annabelle's family. To Annabelle's great relief, Sybille was knocked down by the passing carriage somewhere in the center of Paris approximately a year after her evil deed, and she finally died from profound loss of blood and sepsis.

Now, Annabelle was looking at a worse woman – seemingly insane, extremely hypocritical, and absolutely confident in her rectitude and correctness of her actions. Annabelle silently thanked God numerous times that on that occasion the murderess was identified and that Rhett didn't marry her. Annabelle's heart nearly stopped at the thought what could have happened if Rhett had married Silvia. She could kill Rhett and his son with Belle Watling, Rosemary, and even others.

"No, she is not afraid, Annabelle. She is insane," Rhett answered instead of Silvia. A pause followed and the room was so still that Rhett was ready to scream to break this silence.

Rhett looked at Silvia, now understanding the reason of all his misery. But it was only the partial reason of this misery – the real misery was his behavior and his own mistakes. He felt that he hated Silvia from the bottom of his heart, but he didn't wish her death. He also hated himself for his mistakes. It was a strange feeling for him, very new - a combination of burning hatred and eternal, endless pity. Never had he hated somebody so much, but never had he pitied somebody as much as he pitied Silvia Dawson and, most importantly, himself in his misery. Maybe, it was even something stronger than hatred, something more insulting than contempt, and something deeper than pity. It was the bottom of all Rhett's emotions which he had ever experienced in his life, the lowermost and the most morbid, nearly murderous, feeling of pettiness and even sordidness.

"Committed and attempted murders are a graver sin than just lying, cheating, worshiping idols, or committing adultery. My daughter Silvia, you need to make a confession to the authorities. Repentance must involve the heart - the inner man. We can never please God till we get our heart right. That happens in repentance," Reverend Fletcher preached.

"Reverend Fletcher, go to hell with your confessions. I am not afraid, Madame de Robillard. This life is associated only with suffering. Suffering makes life so miserable that only fear of death restrains will from self-destruction. But eventually it makes us even more miserable," Silvia pronounced with a demonically sweet smile.

"Silvia, you have gone mad. We make our life miserable by our bare hands," Rhett replied.

"Scarlett and Rhett's lives are miserable. Man is a metaphysical animal who has only a will that can capitulate in conjunction with infinity of anguishes. Life is illusion, death – consolation." Silvia's hazel eyes sparkled slightly in the twilight.

"Life could be enjoyable, and in this case the single idea of death as the culmination of life is intolerable," Rhett said in a calm manner, almost helplessly in shutting her up.

"God, bless and protect us." The shocked priest blessed Silvia with the cross, but she only laughed in response.

"God, save us and forgive us," Eleanor howled in a mezzo voice.

Rosemary put a hand on her mouth and sighed onerously over and over again, but no relief came. She opened her mouth, but her tongue wagged wordlessly.

_"Elle est une meurtrière froide, Rhett. Nous devons l'emmener à la police (She is a cold murderess, Rhett. We must take her to the police)_," Annabelle said to Rhett.

"_Il est vrai, mais c'est une punition pour son faible, Annabelle (It is truth, but it is a weak punishment for her, Annabelle)_," Rhett responded, his gaze confident and serious.

"My daughter Silvia Ferdinanda, please recant in your mortal sins. You need to plead for the mercy of God. If we repent in our sins, Jesus Christ gives us to know this wonderful mercy of God. When we know that mercy, our hearts must soar in gratitude," the priest sermonized.

"This is in vain, Reverend Fletcher," Rhett's voice resonated with echo in the semi-dark Church.

Reverend Fletcher crossed Silvia. "The word of God comes to you if you repent," he insisted.

"Nonsense," Silvia smirked and straightened her body. A hellish smile returned to her pale face.

"God's blessings upon you, child," Reverend said. "Worship God!"

"She doesn't understand you," Rhett retorted. His words were quiet.

Rhett shook his head skeptically, in disbelief that any appeals for repentance were efficient in this particular case. Annabelle was keeping silent and observing, foreboding a bloody pinnacle as though she looked at and through Silvia. Rosemary and Eleanor were slumberous as though blood had pumped out of their hearts. Eleanor's lips were whispering words of a prayer. Rosemary's mind was captured with a tacit prayer as final awakening of her heavy mind had happened.

"She doesn't need the remissions of her sins," Annabelle said very slowly as though each word was a great effort for her. Her voice was reflecting the enshrouding and ever-rising tension of her nerves and body cells. She felt like all her body wasn't hers as it was stretched like an arrow in the bow upon its release. Her accent peaked in and the pace of her speech slowed down because she began to search and select the words in her mind. This was the result of internal struggle in Annabelle's head as she was startled and even frightened. She felt that she was face-to-face and arm-in-arm with an elemental force - the force of hatred to Silvia as now, looking at her, all the pity, which she had had in the beginning, left her heart.

"Silvia, we are taking you to the police right away from the Great Episcopal Church," a loud soprano followed from Annabelle's lips.

"No, Annabelle." Silvia laughed aloud, her eyes snapping arrogance and pride. She was as though she had been a Goodness of evil, superior to everybody around her. "This time you won't win, Rhett and Madame Annabelle," she added. "I swear that you won't win."

"Yes, Silvia, we do. You will be arrested," Rhett promulgated.

"_Vous vous tenez devant la justice, Silvia_," Annabelle declared in French automatically, but immediately corrected herself. "_You will face the trial, Silvia_," she said vigorously.

"I will never be publicly disgraced! Never ever! Rhett, I didn't want you to know about the children and I wanted to see Scarlett dead! Dead! She deserves this! I hope she and her children will die like your Bonnie, Rhett. And Robert Butler should also be dead." Silvia smiled devilishly and trod back, further to the Apse.

"Damned wretch! Go to hell! This is your place… I should kill you! I will kill you! Go to Lucifer!" Rhett growled in uncontrollable violence.

Rhett felt as uncontrollable anger and violence slashed through his heart. His heart was poisoned with the venom of hatred and disdain to Silvia. His white teeth were tightly clenched and gleamed under his little mustache. His heart had suddenly ossified, and it was no longer capable of throbbing with pity and fear. Rhett assailed Silvia and began to shake her for the shoulders. Reverend Fletcher disentangled Rhett from trembling Silvia.

"No! I will never be disgraced in public! No! No! No!" Silvia cried out maniacally, at the top of her lungs, her voice rising with each word. "No one of the Montecuccoli family will ever allow it!" Her hazel eyes were wild and violent. "No! No! No!" Madness completely overtook her.

Silvia's words soared higher and higher, to the emptiness of the Grace Episcopal Church. Vacuum returned the echo of a triple magnitude of Silvia's dreadful scream. Her words looked like carefully chosen, special words of a dying fallen angel in agony. What she had just screamed had been like balm poured into a festering, intolerably painful wound of heart and soul – heart and soul in grey ash.

Rhett stepped backwards under Reverend Fletcher's onslaught. Silvia moved back slightly and raised her head. She swept her hazel eyes over the Church and the people who seemed to her so narrow-souled and endlessly pathetic A sort of lurid contempt to the outside world appeared in her eyes, and her final decision was made up.

Silvia used this moment for the realization of the last stage of her bloody plan. She touched slightly her medallion on her neck, but said nothing and just stared with dull, vacant eyes at emptiness ahead. She opened the medallion swiftly and, with agility of a cat, strewed her inherited fine powder of blue color into her throat, everything that was in her medallion. She forced herself to gather enough saliva in the mouth, and then swallowed all the poison with one sweep. Shivering from attacking her nausea and dizziness, in a white wedding gown, Silvia Ferdinanda stepped aside the Apse, further to the semicircular termination where the altar was located. In her dying agony, she swiftly reached the high altar, ornamented with sculpture and different panels, and touched slightly cold marble. Her shoulders slumped as dizziness captured her body completely and she staggered. Her body automatically tried to vomit, but her throat was too dry and her stomach empty as she was on a strict diet before the wedding – nothing came out.

Silvia looked ahead without clear understanding of reality, her shoulders slumped even more, and she fainted on the marble floor of the altar. Then the last, heavy breath escaped her villainous lips, and her heavy hazel eyes closed forever. Silvia's life on the sinful Earth ended and she went to Styx. It was the end of her murderous escapades. However, the question was whether she was acting alone, on a standalone basis, in the chain.

Ironically, _Silvia Ferdinanda Albertson Dawson_, the princess of darkness and the fallen angel, was crushed to death at the place of sacrifice where a priest consecrates bread and wine into the substance of "the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ." Given the place and how it happened, undoubtedly, it was extraordinary never-before-seen death. Perhaps, Silvia's death on the altar of the Church happened for the sake of atonement and redemption of her bloodcurdling, criminal doings. But was it the whole story? Has the cobweb of bloody history been untangled?

Everything happened with lightning, irrational, intangible rapidity, and everybody was startled and paralyzed, even Rhett and Annabelle. A strong tremor of fear shot through everybody's hearts. It was like they all were drifting into strange, sinister channels. They were numb for instance as though they were shaken to the depths of their hearts. This instance was silent and so still that it could be compared with the Day of Atonement when sinful souls repent and wait for forgiveness and then salvation begins, but this time not for Silvia Ferdinanda Albertson Dawson.

Regaining conscience after strong initial shock, Reverend Fletcher dashed to Silvia's lifeless body and took her in his hands. He carried her and put her on the floor in the nave in order to examine her. She didn't breath and had no pulse both on her wrists and on her neck. Annabelle and Rhett rushed to them, while Eleanor Butler fainted and Rosemary stood in her stupor with wide, hollow eyes staring ahead in the emptiness.

Annabelle leaned down, very close to Silvia's body and took the medallion in her hands, which Silvia pressed hard in her right hand in her agony. Even after her death, the medallion remained clutched between her fingers. Looking into Rhett's dark-visaged face with hardened features, she remarked skeptical shock and disbelief in what happened. Annabelle and Rhett's eyes locked, and Rhett distinguished the same sorely punch-drunk look on her face.

"Worship God" Reverend Fletcher invoked. He crossed himself and Silvia. "Worship God! She killed herself! Worship God!"

"I didn't expect this in such a form," Rhett pronounced lingeringly.

"Neither did I, but I foreboded blood. Silvia is dead - she used all the poison from the medallion. She took very-very large dose… It would be enough to kill at least five people," Annabelle spelled out, looking at the large, hollow inward part of the medallion.

"I thought that she was likely to commit a suicide – for her it is better than prison, but not so cool-blooded on the altar," Rhett said, his voice husky.

"Worship God!" Reverend Fletcher continued to invoke.

"Look, Rhett, she kept the poison here, in the envenoming medallion," Annabelle replied.

Rhett felt dizzy with blossoming hope that that horror had finished in the end. "I see, Annabelle. I hope she went to hell," he answered sharply and indifferently.

"She always had the poison with her… What a Satanic Majesty," Annabelle said quietly.

"_La mort est venue d'adorer Satan (The death came to Satan's worshiper)_," Rhett's asserted.

"_Elle a fait un pacte avec le diable (She made a deal with the devil)_," Annabelle purported.

"Fateful end on the altar…" Rhett said under his breath. "We must love and be happy or make our life miserable and die. Everybody gets what he deserves."

"Rhett, something is messed up in this story," Annabelle's voice sounded.

"Maybe, but Silvia is dead," Rhett shook his head.

"I don't know, but something is still missed, Rhett."

Rhett furrowed his black brows. "Do you mean that Rosemary could have participated in the murders?"

"I don't know, but something is messed up," she insisted.

Rhett shook his head. "No, Rosemary isn't insane. I don't think that she is playing so hard."

"I hope so." The grey eyes revealed confusion. "Nobody dies from blue cooper sulphate immediately."

"Dear God, she is dead!" Reverend Fletcher said in horror and blessed the emptiness, himself, Rhett and Annabelle with the wooden cross.

Rhett's black eyes went blank. "What do you mean, Annabelle?"

"Usually it takes up to two weeks to die after taking cooper sulphate, but the poisoned person is in a semi-comatose state. "I don't understand what kind of poison Silvia used. It could be a mixture of blue cooper sulphate with another poison or another poison in its pure view."

Rhett glanced weirdly at Annabelle. "Belle Watling died in ten days after the murder." His voice was cracking.

"That's what I told you. This poison is not pure cooper sulphate. She mixed it with something. It is not usual arsenic or the Borgia's _Cantarella_. I know this for sure. And there is almost now smell, which gives an opportunity to assume that it is very specific. Maybe, this is another Italian poison," Annabelle tossed her head and smelled.

"Annabelle, please be careful. Don't smell it." Rhett gripped her forearm.

Annabelle's lips twisted in amazement. "That's fine, don't worry. I wonder why she needed the poison that kills a victim almost immediately."

"We should check what is at the Butler house," Rhett said anxiously.

A dreadful thought struck her mind. No, no, that juts couldn't be the truth, she tried to appease herself. But the thought seemed to be so real and so logical that she gasped either in amazement or horror. "Maybe, Silvia Dawson wanted to do a bloody slaughter after the wedding," she supposed in horror.

"Oh my Lord! My son Robert!" Rhett exclaimed.

Annabelle shook her head. It was just so dreadful. "Robert," she echoed.

Rhett stared at Annabelle. "We must go home," he said in harsh voice.

At the same time, Charleston scandalmongers continued to gossip outside of the walls of the Grace Episcopal Church. As usual, they exclaimed how shameful and scandalous the wedding was stopped. Silvia screamed her last words so loudly and feverishly that these gossipers stopped chatting, held their tongues for a moment, and exchanged astonished glances. They heard very clearly as inside the Church somebody cried out "No! No! No!"

"Did you hear the scream?" Miss Barbara Hampton whispered, raising her head.

"Who bawled out so disrespectfully in the Church?" Mrs Wondermurt said. "How ghoulish it is!"

"What a shame to roar so furiously in the Church," Mrs Edmondston wailed and clapped her hands.

"Who cried out so violently?" another guest asked and shrugged.

"This is unheard-of, my Lord!" somebody murmured in an undertone.

"What is going on?" Miss Margaret Elsbrow questioned.

"Unprecedented!" other guests clapped hands.

Several young ladies and old matrons sprang to their feet and marched back to the Church. They knew that Eleanor, Silvia, Rhett, Rosemary, and Annabelle were still inside. Instantly they approached the large wooden door.

"What happened?" Miss Margaret Elsbrow's voice was shaking.

"Margaret, do you see our dear Eleanor, Miss Rosemary, and Miss Silvia?" Mrs Bromwell asked with anxiety in her voice as she opened the heavy wooden door. She came inside, in the long nave, and others followed her.

"Look, ladies. They are near the altar, in the end of the nave," Mrs Wondermurt replied.

"Let's go there, ladies," Miss Barbara Hampton commanded.

"What is going on?" Mrs Brewton flung her arms up.

"So unprecedented…" Mrs Russell said.

"So scandalous…" Mrs Manigault lamented.

Some other guests followed them, some remained outside, waiting and guessing, what happened. The look of everybody's face was dumbfounded as though knocked sideways. The lay audience of Charleston was startled even not knowing what was going on inside because never before had they heard so wild screams and all the more in the Church.

At the same time, inside the Church shock was gradually changing for clearer understanding of reality with the emergency for action. Rhett looked at Silvia's lifeless body for the last time and turned around. He saw Rosemary on her hunkers near Eleanor Butler's body on the marble floor. He flounced to his mother and carefully took her in his hands, asking tearful Rosemary to help him to take Eleanor back home. Annabelle followed Rhett to the exit from the Church as her mission in Charleston was over. Rhett was carrying Eleanor, while Rosemary was running behind. There was alarm, fear, and trepidation for his mother on Rhett's face. Annabelle forced herself to look apathetic – her mask of polite, impassive indifference was back on her face.

The guests that entered the Church were in horror from the picture they contemplated. Nobody of them expected to see Rhett carrying his mother, lachrymose Rosemary, and calm, aloof French lady in grey gown. As the old matrons collided face-to-face with Annabelle and the Butlers, whisperings and lamentations infested the nave.

"What happened with Miss Eleanor?" Mrs Bromwell questioned.

Miss Margaret Elsbrow's lips were trembling. "What … what is it? What is… going on here?"

"Who screamed?" Mrs Wondermurt inquired with concern.

"Where… where… is Miss Silvia?" Mrs Edmondston stammered.

The ladies tried to stop Rhett and asked Rosemary what happened, but they kept silent and disregarded them. Neither Rhett, nor Rosemary emitted a sound as though their mouths went entirely dry and their tongues were swallowed. Both Rhett and Rosemary passed by the young ladies and matrons of the city and left the Church. Annabelle slowed down her footsteps and looked at the guests with her cold crystal grey eyes. She signed heavily, realizing that she had to say something to the audience. She stopped for an instance and looked at the shocked guests with pale faces.

"Miss Eleanor Butler will be fine soon. She fainted. Don't worry, ladies," Annabelle declared crisply.

Mrs Bromwell's eyes went wide. "Why did she faint? What happened?"

"Where is Miss Silvia Albertson Dawson?" Mrs Russell demanded the reply, her cracking.

"Miss Silvia Dawson is in hell," Annabelle snapped halfheartedly. She wasn't going to be gentle.

"Oh… God…" the ladies groaned and shrank back.

"Please, ask somebody to get the police of Charleston here as soon as possible," Annabelle commanded. "We don't have time for it. Reverend Fletcher cannot leave the Church."

As Annabelle was on her way from the nave, Mrs Bromwell suddenly seized her forearm. She asked: "Madame, where is Miss Silvia? What happened?"

"There!" Annabelle replied and showed in the direction of the altar where Reverend Fletcher was sitting on the floor next to Silvia's bloodless body. "Please, get the police. I must go with Mr Rhett Butler."

Mrs Bromwell's eyes swept over the nave and saw Silvia's motionless body in distance. Her eyes grew in wild horror, her hands were shaking. "What… what happened?"

Annabelle didn't blink, although she had a feeling of disgust in the region of her heart. Instead, she glared at Mrs Bromwell with a cold gaze. Then her gaze shifted to Silvia's body. Mrs Silvia Dawson is dead. It appears that she committed a suicide," she said slowly. She turned to the old matron.

"No! No! It is impossible," Mrs Bromwell pattered. She blessed herself with the cross.

Annabelle shrugged. "Mrs Silvia Dawson is a murderess with Italian roots. She was the devil incarnate." She sighed.

Mrs Bromwell reached for Annabelle's hand. "Madame de Robillard, please tell me what happened." Her voice was cracking, her shoulders slumped.

Annabelle stepped aside from her. "I am sorry, but I must go with Mr Butler," she objected. "Please get the police here." She paused and looked at the frightened woman. She forced an artificial smile. "I hope you understand. Goodbye."

Annabelle swung around and walked down the nave and opened the wooden door. She left the Church, but managed to hear behind a new wave of whisperings, lamentations, howls, and tear-drops. She also guessed that several ladies fainted at the dreadful picture in front of them.

"Ah!"

"Oh!"

"Holy Mother of God!"

"She is dead… She is dead…"

"My God!"

"My Lord!"

"What happened?"

"Oh my God!

"What is going on in the Church?"

"What a scandal! How terrible!"

"My Goodness!"

"How did it happen?"

Inside the Grace Episcopal Church only Reverend Fletcher was left, together with Silvia's body, and the guests who entered the Church. The ladies came closer to the altar and several of them fainted as the sudden fear paralyzed pervaded their bodies and hearts. A new wave of groans and grasps passed through the nave of the Church.

Reverend Fletcher told them the whole story in brief, but it took much time for him as his voice was cracking and he often paused and signed, trying to regain his composure. When Reverend Fletcher finished the narration, another massive tide of savage weeping pressed the nave. Only Mrs Bromwell was able to move and think quickly and clearly, so that she left the nave and got the police to the Church. Later Silvia's body was collected from the Grace Episcopal Church by the police of Charleston.

* * *

_This chapter is dark and non-traditional. But what could you expect from such people as Silvia? Notorious poisoners will never be disgraced publicly and will use their own weapon against them. It even sounds logical. Now you can try to guess whether it is the end of the poisoning story._

_Next chapter is about Scarlett, but it is quite dark. I promise that this is the last so dark chapter for Scarlett._

_After this we have the chapter about the events in Charleston, and you will know what happened after the scandal in the Grace Episcopal Church._

_Next update will be posted as soon as I have time, which may be rather unpredictable during the next week._

_Comments on this chapter are greatly appreciated. Thank you very much._


	48. Chapter 48

**Chapter 48**

**Blood and death as angels and godmothers of love**

At the same time, Scarlett in London was still in her restless oblivion. Her body no longer exhibited terrible convulsions. Previously constant and abundant, attributable to the accumulated in the cells of her body poisonous toxins, vomiting stopped several days ago. Another positive moment was that the apples of her eyes weren't motionless when Doctor Casimir Broussard checked the reaction of her eyes to the day light. Even in her unconscious condition, Scarlett could no longer feel had terrible dryness in her throat. She could no longer withstand a feeling of terrible burning in her inflamed stomach, especially lower abdomen. Scarlett's body was gradually cleaning from the toxins of blue cooper sulphate. The antidote pills, which _Duchess Marguerite de Ventadour _gave Scarlett twice a day, performed their job excellently, and Scarlett no longer had bleeding from her nose, like it was during the last several weeks after the tragedy.

Marguerite and her son _Patrick Walter_ _Campbell_, _8th Earl of Marchmont_, were trying their best to nurse Scarlett. After Annabelle had been off to the United States, Marguerite was left alone with Scarlett. Therefore, at times Patrick was nursing Scarlett. Marguerite and Patrick interchanged each other and periodically watched Scarlett. Scarlett's maid Leontine was also helping a great deal.

Scarlett lost much weight in her battle with haunting death. She was so lean, even worse than during the starvation at Tara in the war time. She looked ill-conditioned and thin-fleshed, and in some parts of her body her previously creamy alabaster skin had bluish undertone on account of the poison accumulated under her skin and the rupture of some blood vessels. Like in Annabelle and Belle's cases, the strongest dark-blue pigmentation appeared in the fingernail zone. Over time, the physical consequences of poisoning were promised to disappear by the attentive and knowledgeable Doctor Broussard. All the physical traits of Scarlett's attempted murder didn't mean something at that time. The most important thing was that she was alive and that her condition seemed to stabilize.

Scarlett's sick mind replayed her old nightmare as she was running through the mist to Rhett, but he wasn't there. She saw Melanie and her daughter Bonnie, but they were moving rapidly away from her and she couldn't catch up with them. Soon they completely disappeared and she was left alone in the mist. Scarlett's body stiffened tighter and tighter with each minute as she felt this pain, over and over again. Through the haze of her sick mind, Scarlett heard that somebody near her was talking, but she couldn't distinguish the words. Two people were talking about her. In the remote part of her brain, the weak bell of recognition rang, unostentatiously and succinctly, but she couldn't force herself to open the eyes and fight off the mist that surrounded her everywhere.

"How is Scarlett, Doctor Broussard?" a familiar voice sounded. Was it Marguerite? Scarlett didn't know. She couldn't distinguish.

"She is delirious, your Grace, but I am not frightened for this," Doctor Casimir Broussard replied in a high voice with a clear French accent.

"What is going to happen with her?" the same female voice resonated again. This time Scarlett realized – it was _Duchess Marguerite de Ventadour._

"Bleeding will stop soon. It wasn't traumatic, just the result of the sickness. There shouldn't be considerable internal damage," Doctor Casimir said.

"Good Heavens!" Marguerite whimpered. "Oh God!"

"We could do nothing. This is for the best because her body was poisoned. Nobody knows what the outcome would be if it didn't happen," a thetic verdict from the doctor followed with affliction steeling into the voice with French accent.

"Doctor Broussard, will she be able to have more children in the future?" Marguerite asked.

"Your Grace, I had seen many such cases, much worse cases at his Imperial Majesty _Napoleon III_'s court than what had happened with Madame de Breval. She will be fine over time," the doctor answered.

"I don't care for other cases! I care for Scarlett," Marguerite opposed him.

Doctor Broussard cast a compassionate glance at her. "Your Grace, I can say nothing more about the case now. I might assume that she would be able to conceive because there wasn't much internal damage. Madame de Breval must awake at first. Then we will think about other consequences of that dreadful poisoning."

"You are right," Marguerite admitted.

"Please continue going Madame de Breval antidote twice a day," the doctor instructed.

Although Scarlett was struggling persistently with the memories of the past, her mind continued travelling back to the events of her life in Atlanta. This time, she was lying in her queen bed in her suite in their old house on the Peachtree Street in Atlanta. Scarlett was sick in the aftermath of her fall from the staircase. It was so painful to breathe because her broken ribs stabbed. In her oblivion, she recalled her past sensations of how her whole body was given over to demons that hit her with dull knives periodically and after each punch left her alone with her pain. She felt drained of strength, and her body tautened so much that in her sleepy condition she clenched her jaw widely, gnashed her teeth harshly, gripped her fists, and spread out her legs in her unsuccessful attempts to relax and get free of terrible pain in her lower abdomen. Something was wrong with her, but she didn't know what it was. This nagging pain in her lower stomach was swelling to its peak and then growing weak, later again was swelling and then easing. Marguerite took her hand and laid it gently against Scarlett's cool cheek in an attempt to console Scarlett. Scarlett's body visibly relaxed and pain receded a little, but despite this she didn't have enough strength to open her eyes.

In a new impulsive rush of feeling dreadful pain in her body, especially in her lower abdomen, Scarlett's mind saw Rhett in the days following her fall down the stairs. It was cold and indifferent Rhett, and Scarlett recalled that his impersonal courtesy irritated her so much that she preferred to hear his softly drawled barbs at her and sarcastic comments. Her thoughts were whirling swiftly and suddenly stopped on their last conversation in Charleston where Rhett told her that she died for him together with Bonnie. He roared: "_I am dead... You... are also dead for me... You died for me together with Bonnie, my pet._"

Later, Scarlett's train of unconscious thought drifted to their last night at the Charleston Grand Hotel. As if she was awake, she witnessed Rhett, hugging and kissing her with worlds "_I am not ready to have more children… I am sorry… Perhaps, when some time passes… But anyway, I will be unable to be bond with a new child like I was with Bonnie…_" She felt how blood was running cold in her veins under the punch of these cruel words. Scarlett didn't know the reason why she felt that Rhett's desire somehow came to life, and she felt how her heart filled with pain and echoing emptiness. Her sick mind reproduced their last ignominious coupling during the art event in London, and her heart started hampering with ever-rising pulse and blood pressure. "_Hush my dear, we will talk later. I want you here… God… How I want you…_" was loudly shouting in her ears. She recalled that Rhett had pronounced those words when they had been talking in the dark room of the National Gallery of London at the art event after she had found him and had said that they had needed to talk seriously. These unconscious flashbacks of the memory made Scarlett feel more acutely that she didn't want to die and intended to come back to her precious daughters. With a strange sensation of simultaneous love and hate to Rhett, Scarlett began turning and tossing in her large bed, and frightened Marguerite didn't know what to do and how to appease Scarlett.

"Oh… No… Rhett… no please…" Scarlett moaned. With a great will of power the pushed away the deathbed oblivion and opened her eyes of deep green color.

"Scarlett, darling, do you hear me?" Marguerite leaned very close to her and looked in her widely open eyes. "Scarlett! Scarlett!"

"Marguerite, it is you… Where is Rhett? My baby…" Scarlett whispered so quietly that Marguerite strained her ears to hear her. Scarlett didn't know why she was travelling mentally into the past to the time when she was sick because of the traumatic fall and miscarriage, but she wanted foolhardily to know where Rhett and their child were.

"Darling, you are awake! Praise the Lord! How do you feel?" a sigh of relief escaped Marguerite's lips.

"I feel like I was in hell. Where am I?" Scarlett moaned in a shaking voice.

Marguerite stared at her. "You are at my home in Mayfair."

"Marguerite, how long I am here?" she inquired.

"For a month and ten days, darling… Please, try not to move and strain your body," Marguerite smiled at her. She was very happy that Scarlett awoke and much earlier than Doctor Broussard initially predicted.

"My baby… Oh my God…" Scarlett groaned in despair. She didn't know why she felt this pain and burning in her abdomen.

"Scarlett, Blanche and Isabelle are here with us. I ordered to bring them from Paris here a week ago," Marguerite said joyfully and smiled softly, "You will see them soon."

"Are my daughters healthy? Are they alive?" Scarlett asked with fear in her voice.

"Darling, they are fine, and they have already asked for you numerous times. I told them that you are sick and that you will feel better soon," Marguerite elaborated.

"Thank you, Marguerite. Thanks God," Scarlett lisped.

"Darling, please try to rest more. You don't need to worry, Scarlett."

Scarlett grimaced in reprisal to new wave of pain racking her stomach. "My baby, Marguerite… Why did… I feel it…? It was so terrible…" she murmured with half-open eyes.

"I am sorry, Scarlett. You are alive, and it is the most important thing," Marguerite squeezed her hand gently.

"I was pregnant, wasn't I?" Scarlett asked in a small, shaking voice. She started to realize what happened. She made an effort and nearly whimpered: "I need the truth. Any truth is better than indefinite doubt." Her voice awoke a small echo in the vacuum of the room, and the sound soared and again descended in the form of muffled resonance as though one of the twelve Greek mythological gods gave a certain verdict from the high Olympus. It was an enchanted voice as though it could give the knowledge of all the things of the world.

"Yes, my dear, you were, a little over one month along, as the doctor said… I am so sorry… But you body accumulated so many poisonous toxins that we didn't know whether this child would be born healthy if you managed to carry it up to term," Marguerite regretted to say the harsh truth, but decided that the darkest truth was better than the sweetest lie.

"God, why do I have to endure so much pain? Please, don't tell somebody about it," Scarlett pleaded. "Please don't reveal that even to Patrick."

Marguerite squeezed her hand. "Don't worry, my dear, I will never do that. I will never hurt you."

"Thank you, Marguerite."

"The doctor said that as it wasn't traumatic and as the term was short, it shouldn't have caused you much internal damage," Marguerite put her hand on her cheek.

She no longer wanted to open her emerald eyes, full of pain and tears. "Thank you, Marguerite. Annabelle… Is she fine? Where is she?" Scarlett inquired anxiously.

"Annabelle had left for the States more than two weeks ago. She was still sick, but she said that she had to travel urgently due to family reasons," Marguerite explained.

"Charles and Geoffroy… I remember them… on the floor…" Scarlett was stammering from shock and weakness in her whole body.

The last sound of Scarlett's voice was transmuted into a note in the chord of the great stillness. It was as though neither Marguerite nor Scarlett could take the air into the lungs and then emit it from them – it was so still that even breathing wasn't heard in this silence. The strain of the prolonged tension in the air and preternatural stillness began to make everybody feel that somebody must make a noise or burst. Marguerite tried to pronounce the truth, but failed.

"Scarlett, they are… they are…" Marguerite stumbled with words, and unshed tears formed in the corners of her tired eyes.

"What happened? Please only the truth…" Scarlett pleaded.

"They are… dead… darling…"

"What? What did you say?" The green eyes grew wide in consternation.

"They are… they are… dead…" Marguerite reiterated with effort.

"Why, Marguerite? Why?"

"The dose of the poison was deadly, and nothing could help them. I am so sorry… They have already been buried in France," a middle-aged woman pointed out in abject horror.

Scarlett was shocked from the feet to her crown and felt her body immobilized with fear. She felt her mind was empty as if paralyzed for a longstanding breathless instant, and then it again raced forward. She sighed over and over again. Cold and horror took her up to her heart. Her heart was bathing in Geoffroy and Charles's blood, the blood of the innocent, random victims of the poisoning.

Scarlett was struggling with herself to talk, but the words didn't come out. "Oh, God's nightgown! It is impossible… No… Please no… Marguerite… No…" she finally pattered.

"Darling, Scarlett, please calm down. You need to rest. Please," Marguerite pleaded her and kissed her gently on her sweaty forehead.

Scarlett remembered Armand. He was also at the art event. Was he also poisoned? "What about Armand? Was he poisoned?"

"Armand is alive. He wasn't poisoned," Marguerite said, her sympathetic gaze flying to Scarlett's face.

"Where is Armand?" Scarlett inquired.

"Scarlett, Armand is in Paris now. He had to attend the funeral… the funeral of his brother."

"Oh God!" Scarlett half breathed. "I am so happy that Armand is alive."

Marguerite took her white satin handkerchief blew her nose. "Armand is too distressed. He is not himself now."

Scarlett closed her eyes. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't speak. Pain overcame her. All she could manage was a painful constricted whisper. "I am not astonished that Armand is depressed."

"And so am I," Marguerite hurriedly replied.

"Damn the person who murdered Geoffroy and Charles! I will hate the murderer until the day I die!"

"Scarlett, calm down please."

"Rhett… Rhett is here… isn't… he?" Scarlett said slowly, quietly and thoughtlessly. She closed her eyes, and one small tear rolled off her cheek.

"No, he is not here, darling."

"Did Rhett come to me, Marguerite?" Scarlett questioned. She swallowed hard in a rising emotional disorder. All that she has just known was worse than hell for her.

"No, he wasn't here. Can I help you somehow?" Marguerite asked with genuine concern in her kind blue eyes. She didn't know how to help Scarlett.

" Nobody can help me. Please, I want to sleep," Scarlett whispered and closed her eyes. "I want to be alone."

"Alright. I am leaving. I will have a dinner with my son today. Ring the bell if you need something."

"Thank you, Marguerite."

Scarlett remembered that she didn't use the powder of black cohosh to prevent pregnancy as she intended to do after the art event, but failed due to poisoning. The news that she had second miscarriage shattered her heart, and heartache shot across her mind like a stabbing dagger. She felt that she lost a part of herself and a part of Rhett, as well as a part of their love. Scarlett was happy that she still had two daughters, but she was afraid that she wouldn't be able to have more children in the wake of second miscarriage. She knew that she was strong to survive because she survived through the previous miscarriage, was able to get pregnant by Rhett again, and later gave birth to two daughters. However, two times was too much, but she hoped for the better. However, the question with whom to have children in the future was standing open. Scarlett wasn't sure that she would ever reunite with Rhett.

Scarlett felt great pain because of Charles's death. Frantic guilt for what happened and hot anger at herself surged in her body. She promised Mathieu to take care of his son after his death, and it was the main reason why he asked her to marry him. They had a sort of business arrangement in their marriage, and it was Scarlett who unintentionally broke the agreement. _Charles Louis Nicolas de Harlay de Champvallon, 14th Bréval de Breval, _was dead while Scarlett was alive. Mathieu helped her to hide her disgrace, while she paid him back with his son's death. She even missed Geoffroy and Charles's funeral in France because of being sick and confined to bed. She felt ashamed of herself, of what had happened because she hadn't protected Charles and hadn't taken him from the arms of death.

Scarlett was happy that _Armand Louis Charles d'Aubusson de La Feuillade, 14th Count de Maulevrier_, was alive. Thanks God, Armand, _ash blonde Adonis_ of Paris, was alive. She thanked God numerous times that at least Armand hadn't been poisoned, while his poor twin Geoffroy, an innocent young man, died because a crazy murderess with Italian roots from Charleston wanted to poison Scarlett. Why did it happen with the legendary d'Aubusson brothers? A murderer or a murderess probably aimed at killing Scarlett and Annabelle, but not Geoffroy, Charles, or Armand. Instead, innocent Geoffroy and Charles died. Why did it happen? How could God let this murderous tragedy to happen? What is Armand doing now in Paris? How does he feel? The answer to the last question is evident – Armand is in profound mourning, and everything is because of Scarlett, she mused. Will she ever be able to look in Armand's eyes again, without any shame and guilt?

Scarlett was sick of guilt. As she realized, Armand was not himself and was very depressed. She understood his feelings. His twin brother Geoffroy died, and it was as though Armand's own heart had been ripped out of his chest and he had half died. Geoffroy and Armand were twins. They had always been very close to each other and had been dependent on each other in many aspects. They had always visited parties, balls, routs. They had always travelled together. They had always helped each other in their numerous amorous escapades, including Geoffroy's old amourette with an actress whom he had truly loved but couldn't marry and, of course, Armand and Noelle de Robillard's secret, yet tragic love story. Scarlett had her own twin daughters Blanche and Isabelle and thus she knew what it meant to take the twin away from the other twin. Geoffroy was not only taken away from Armand - he was dead and he was murdered. Scarlett desperately wanted to lessen Armand's pain, but she couldn't do something in London while Armand was in Paris. Her shock she had had after the awakening faded to hurt, and very slowly the first glimmerings of tears were born in her throat. Tears of pain sprang to her eyes as she remembered Geoffroy and Armand. She was weeping all her heartbroken distress and gilt into her pillow. She was crying because of Geoffroy, Charles, Armand, and her unborn child.

Silently, Scarlett was praying that _Bréval Geoffroy de Boisy_ and her stepson _Bréval Charles de Breval_ would sleep peacefully. She also asked them for forgiveness. Scarlett was dreaming of going back to France and visiting their graves in order to pray and apologize for letting them fade away from this life. She even missed their funeral because she was unconscious and sick. The latter also depressed Scarlett.

What crushed strongly Scarlett was the fact that Rhett hadn't been with her on her bedside when she had been dying in the aftermath of the poisoning by blue cooper sulphate. She remembered that he had promised to wait for her to get to his hotel in the evening of the art event at the National Gallery. She also found the fact that Annabelle had departed to the United States rather suspicious because the French grey-eyed lady didn't have any friends or relatives there. Scarlett admitted that her dearest third cousin and also dearest friend Annabelle had gone to the South with a single purpose to bring Rhett to Scarlett's bed and in order not to admit the catastrophe to occur if Rhett married _Silvia Ferdinanda Albertson Dawson_. The fact was that Rhett ran away from her for the fourth time in her life. He left her immediately after the night on Ashley's birthday with eventual tragedy of her falling down the grand staircase and losing the child; the night at his house in Charleston with happy outcome of having Blanche and Isabelle; the day of Melanie's death when she confessed him in her love; and now after their shameful lovemaking on the ball and her near-death experience of being poisoned by unknown scoundrel whom she could kill with her bare hands for Charles and Geoffroy's deaths and the death of her unborn child.

It was so painful for Scarlett to realize that Rhett had run away from a woman whom he had taken an oath to love and to cherish forever – from Scarlett. Scarlett didn't understand how Rhett could love her and constantly escape from personal problems and conflicts. At present, he escaped from her again and didn't think about the consequences of the nights they spent together and how she would be affected by his flee. However, when Scarlett escaped from him six months ago after their night at the Charleston Grand Hotel, he didn't try to find her and didn't fight for her. Later, Rhett told her that he had loved her, but thought that she no longer wanted him and that he couldn't force her to love him by imposing unwanted love on her. Rhett added that he couldn't break engagement with Silvia because Scarlett disappeared and because of his mother Eleanor who, most likely, wasn't prone to blow up a new scandal, especially after large pubic scandal associated with claiming Belle Watling's son as Rhett's legitimate heir. In the meantime, Scarlett felt offended and humiliated that Rhett didn't look for her after her recent departure from the States and followed his favorite passive "wait-and-see" approach. She was proud of Rhett because he claimed Belle's son, despite absence of strong love for Belle Watling who put her hand to Scarlett's ruined love and marriage. However, Scarlett felt sympathy to Belle because as, a mother, she should have suffered due to her son being a legitimate orphan. Scarlett also was deeply shocked by Rhett's news about Belle's unexpected, monstrous death. Thinking about Belle, Scarlett's mind immediately recollected that Rhett had one more son from this poor woman, whom she wished to sleep peacefully in Heaven. While Rhett had another child, she has just lost their unborn child. No, Scarlett didn't feel jealous of Robert Butler, Rhett's son, but she didn't understand why she lost three children from the same man. Apparently, it was fate that took her children from her.

When Scarlett remembered their wild, improper coupling on the ball at the art event, she felt ashamed and used as a whore again. She compared herself with a dirty whore for a one-night stand, whom Rhett used to satisfy his carnal lusts, to get emotional and physical release, and then to leave in order to return to his life of a proper Charleston gentleman. Moreover, it was likely that he escaped to another whore or mistress in the local Charleston brothel or anywhere in the world. Scarlett knew that Rhett was a renegade, a womanizer, and a constant haunter of whorehouses. She knew him and his weaknesses too well to be naive and believe that he was able to live without intimacy with women for a long time. Her opinion was that Rhett's life in Charleston in the dark time was related to gambling, constant drinking, and bedding numerous whores without thinking about the consequences. He paid them for the pleasure and left in the morning. Loathing, disappointment and disdain to Rhett's activities and actions uplifted in Scarlett's body and poured into her bloodstream, resulting in rampage and anger at herself for loving Rhett and her chronic inability to quit this love.

"Rhett, where are you now? I would have been at your side, together with you, if I had known that you were so sick like I was," Scarlett thought. "Do you really love me, Rhett? What happened with you?"

Why didn't Rhett find her after the ball when she was sick? Where did he go from his hotel? Did he leave London? Did he go to Charleston to Silvia, making it necessary for ill Annabelle to pursue him on the other continent? Intuitively, Scarlett knew the answer that Rhett ran away because somehow he managed to learn that she was poisoned on the cursed art event and was probably dead. Scarlett assumed that Rhett decided that his presence in London was no longer necessary and left. She didn't trust Rhett and couldn't believe him one more time. She simply didn't understand Rhett's love and his behavior. Their love was saturated with falsehood, chagrin, mortification, distrust, anger, mockery, and arrogance. The degree of tartness and bitterness of their love seemed to be unlimited. Moreover, their love was too much associated with innocent blood, tragedies, and sufferings, and it raised the painful question whether Scarlett could ever be happy with Rhett Butler, although she loved him madly and unconditionally. Blood and death were like angels and godmothers of their love and relationship.

"Who will die next time? You and I? Too much blood in our relationship, Rhett… Just too much…" Scarlett mumbled tauntingly.

_"Scarlett, I was never one to patiently pick up broken fragments and glue them together… What is broken is broken…" _This was what Rhett said to her when he had left her in Atlanta high and dry, crying on the staircase. Scarlett's mind asked herself whether Rhett was correct in his survived through so many tragedies and lost so many people, the most painful loss attributable to their children, and yet it wasn't enough to learn lessons from their mistakes and to be happy in their new life. Their love was broken three times - when Rhett left her in Atlanta; later when he ran away from her after night of passion in Charleston and pulled her out of the Butler yellow mansion into the cold dark street; the last time when he left her sick and dying in London.

"Why is our love enfettered in distrust, games, deception, craftiness, ache, torments, and death? Why can't we live happy like normal people and live in peace with our children?" Scarlett questioned bitterly, "Rhett, I love you wholeheartedly, but do you love me genuinely? Aren't we punished enough by God? Is our love a method to punish us throughout our lives?"

Scarlett was tired both physically and mentally, and her mind ticked away dully, mechanically, as clock on the mantle. A sharp, unbearably bitter, irremediable pain and spiritual vacuum fulgurated and captured Scarlett's heart and soul, and she started to shiver. This time, she surrendered under the onslaught of this pain and sorrow on the back of the extreme, irrecoverable loss and flagrant, gruesome tragedies happened in her life. Scarlett has lost so much in her short life – her beloved mother Ellen and father Gerald; her grandfather Pierre Robillard whom she no longer remembered as greedy wicked greybeard after he had made Scarlett his legal heiress and testified his admiration for her strong will of power in his farewell letter; three husbands in her loveless marriages - Charles Hamilton, Frank Kennedy, then _Mathieu Paul Louis de Harlay de Champvallon, 13th Bréval de Bréval_; her dear friends Melanie and Ashley Wilkes; three of her children – four-year old Bonnie and two unborn small angels; Mammy, her favorite nanny, and her last link to childhood and her dreams, her last connection to her happy, careless life; now _Charles Louis Nicolas de Harlay de Champvallon, 14th Bréval de Bréval_, whom she promised to protect and raise as her own child; and finally innocent _Geoffroy __Louis Victor d'Aubusson de La Feuillade, 11th Bréval de Boisy_, her third cousin from the Robillards on the side of his mother. Scarlett was happy that Annabelle, her dearest Annabelle, was alive and on her way to recovery, in accordance with Marguerite's words. Scarlett's worn-out, exhausted body was on the verge of nervous convulsions when her mind, now more or less rational, built the list of all her great losses in the past years. In point of fact, the damage seemed to be irrecoverable and aching spaces in her heart irreparable.

Scarlett actively continued her inward musings about her life and herself. This time she started to accuse herself of having a short, uncontrollable temper in the past, her strong defiance to other people's opinions and desires, and aspiration to show her upper hand everywhere. She was frantic with guilt for never having been a proper lady and always having been a blackguard. Scarlett knew that she had the easily stirred passions of her Irish father and only a tiny, almost intangible, veneer of Ellen's unselfish, demure, patient, and forbearing nature. Scarlett understood that her mother never fully realized the true nature of her daughter's character because she always showed her best, sweet-natured face to Ellen. It was Mammy who had no illusions regarding Scarlett, but nevertheless accepted her with all her dignities and drawbacks and loved her unconditionally. The same did her beloved friend Melanie whom she finally appreciated only after her death, and the recurrent recognition of this fact broke Scarlett's heart again and again. And she remembered her dear Mammy and Melanie who loved her dearly and unconditionally. She desperately wanted to have them close to her, hug them, stroke their hair tenderly, and tell them that she loved them, but, unfortunately, they were dead. However, Scarlett was thankful to Heaven that she had Annabelle, her dearest friend, so attentive and caring towards her, so similar to her in many aspects. She missed Annabelle more than she had ever missed her before and promised herself that she would do everything possible to reunite Annabelle and François who was alive and in Austria for the sake of their son Rene and their love. Maybe, Scarlett should leave London and go through Paris to Vienna to find François.

Scarlett acknowledged for the millionth time in the past three years that her vivacity and charm, traits of which Southern women were proud, weren't enough to be happy and live in harmony with the world and her own soul. In the past two and a half years, Scarlett matured and changed for the better in many aspects. Scarlett's greatest achievement was that she became naturally more composed, more thoughtful of others, and more perceptive. Scarlett learnt to appreciate and to return thanks to her life for what she had achieved, had survived through, and had at present. She realized that money wasn't the aim of all her life and no longer used inappropriate methods to earn money. However, in the past eight years she had had to do nothing to earn money for a living and to survive, like she had immediately after the war. At first, Rhett discouraged her from counting money when he married her, and later she inherited Pierre Robillard and _Marquis Mathieu de Bréval's_ money and property. Scarlett had much more than she could ever spend. She participated willingly and enthusiastically in charity activities, helped Suellen and Will with money for Tara and a living, and fully supported Ashley, India, and Beau in the past years, as well as Aunts Pittypat, Eulalie, and Pauline almost since the end of the war. Scarlett has finally reconciled with Suellen who hated her so much before, and she even saved her life at the expense of her own health and gunshot wound. Scarlett had a close friend Annabelle who cared for her so much and whom she helped unconditionally. She gave birth to two beautiful daughters, Rhett's children, and grasped the true sense of motherhood. Yes, Scarlett was a really good mother to both Blanche and Isabelle: she nursed and bathed them on her own and with nannies, comforted them in their night dreams, slept in their bedroom for many nights if one of them was sick, read to them stories, played with them each day, and spent almost all her free time in the nursery. She spoiled them like Rhett had spoiled Bonnie. Scarlett was a really caring mother for them, unlike she had been for Bonnie, something she deeply regretted. She loved her daughters so much that she was ready to die to save their life if it had been necessary.

Scarlett also learnt to control her short Irish temper, and if not in all situations, but in the majority of them she coped with this task. She no longer insulted people like she had in the past, and, remarkably and a little unexpectedly for her, even started to care for her reputation. However, she knew that it was so necessary for her precious daughters and in her new status as a powerful noble lady in France. Nevertheless, Scarlett knew that she managed to control her temper by putting the mask of cool indifference, nonchalance, and courtesy on her face, which helped her greatly to hide her true emotions and pain from the past. Having learnt earth-shattering lessons through her sufferings and tragedies, she acted very similar to Rhett in order to protect herself from pain. The same mask served as her buttress in her appearances in the high society of Europe, where sincerity and honesty were such foreign elements. No longer being open and readable like a book, Scarlett was candid and frank with so few people and so rarely that she could have counted such occasions on the fingers of her two hands. Subconsciously, she regretted this, but she wasn't able to and was frightened to reject her new life and pull off the mask from her face.

"I love my new life and don't want to change it completely, but I need to do something else," Scarlett's brain was musing, her thoughts running down automatically like the clock on the mantle.

Scarlett took her new life in aristocratic society for granted and drifted with the stream of the river somewhere father and father. She didn't know where she was drifting. In a true sense, she was the same blackguard she had been before because she loved wealth and spending money on houses, clothes, jewelry; loved people's lust and admiration for her beauty and business acumen; hated rules of proper society and was ready to do scandalous, improper things if it was suitable and beneficial for her. Deep inside her heart, she was still relatively similar to the old Scarlett with a short and steep temper, with vivacity, charm, passion, and stubbornness. Her blood boiled frequently and her emotions splashed out, but she forced herself to mask that. Notwithstanding the above, Scarlett's perception of life matured and became deeper and more serious than it had been during the time she had been married to Rhett. Now, having survived through another dreadful, barbaric tragedy, Scarlett decided to change this part of her life and to become more natural. She would try to put off her mask of polite indifference and courtesy, she mused.. In the meantime, she wasn't ready to quit her aristocratic life completely. And so she decided to think about it tomorrow.


	49. Chapter 49

**Chapter 49**

**Bloodshed at the Butler mansion on the Battery**

Eleanor Butler recovered consciousness in the carriage. She still felt dizziness and nausea, but no longer looked like the ghost of ghosts and the color of her face turned to normal from deathly pale. Rosemary was sobbing on a non-stop basis, but neither Annabelle nor Rhett paid attention to her pleadings and lamentations.

As they returned to the yellow house on the Battery, they saw Robert with ashy-grey face sitting on the front steps. He was holding his head in his hands, and a faint flash of pain and fear animated his face when he looked at Rhett. There was an unearthly, looking-for-shelter expression on his swarthy, like Rhett's, face. There was a silence in the whole house, interrupted by darkie Manigo's sobs who served at the Butlers for more than forty years.

"Robert, what happened? Why are you here?" Rhett asked, his eyes scanning the boy's pale face.

"Father, I was waiting for you," Robert mumbled indistinctly.

"What happened, Robert? Let's go inside," Rhett commanded as he couldn't stay longer on the front steps with Eleanor in his hands.

Robert's black eyes flashed. "They are… they are… inside…" he stammered.

Rhett's face turned deathly pale and his heart began hammering harder and harder. Rosemary also paled and opened the door for her brother. Robert clumsily rose to his feet and silently followed Rhett. Annabelle was the last to enter the house.

Once they got in the parlor, Rhett was face-to-face with Manigo – he saw the cascading stream of hot tears on his dark rough face. As they entered the living room and Rhett gently placed his mother on the apricot velvet sofa, his glance dropped at Mrs Bedrow's motionless body on the floor to the right from the sofa. As Rhett swept his eyes over the living room, he immediately discovered two other darkie servants on the floor. Rhett bent down to Mrs Bedrow and checked her pulse - there was no single heartbeat as her heart stopped. The same was with the darkies. Rosemary ran away from the living room upstairs with hysterical screams. Annabelle sighed heavily as her glance fell at the vase of lemonade and the several glasses with lemonade, some of them empty, on the wooden table near the sofa. The smell of the liquid in the glass was the same as that of the medallion in Silvia's hands - blue copper sulphate with some unknown ingredient.

A headache pounded behind Annabelle's eyes and assaulted her temples. "Silvia indeed wanted more blood after the wedding ceremony in the Church," she said, her voice sounding far-away, strangled.

Annabelle looked around. Nobody should know what she was going to do now. She waited till Rhett turned around from her and approached the window. Then her hand surreptitiously reached one of the empty glasses with lemonade. She gripped it and quickly wrapped it in her white handkerchief and then placed it in her silk and cut steel Italian bag, a little larger than a classic female's reticule, so that it was enough to put there a small glass. Thanks God, the glass was not large. Annabelle needed to have a pattern of the poison to be able to ask Doctor Broussard what type of the poison it was. She was sure that the police of Charleston wouldn't manage to learn the exact contents of the poisonous mixture. As soon as she comes back to London, she will ask Broussard for help and together they will identify the poisonous mixture.

As she did it, Annabelle glanced at Rhett who was still standing near the window and looking at the bodies of the deceased darkies on the floor and at Mrs Bedrow's body on the sofa. Annabelle sighed heavily as the picture in front of her eyes was indeed disastrously atrocious.

"Are you sure that they are dead, Rhett?" she asked just to ask something.

"Yes," he replied after a small, tense pause. He came closer to her.

"I can't look at this terrible picture, Rhett. I just can't." Annabelle looked up into his eyes. For an instance she held his gaze, and then she shut her eyes. She was really distressed. "I want to leave."

"We will leave soon," he said softly.

Annabelle's eyes flung open. "I hope so."

Rhett's black eyes searched out something around. "Don't touch something here. Don't drink and eat inside the house!" he roared at the top of his lunges. His tone was authoritarian. "I am addressing it to everybody. Don't touch even a spoon or a fork here!"

"Rhett, what is going on?" Eleanor opened her eyes and raised her head slightly from the sofa.

"Rosemary, damn you, come here and take the mother and Robert to the Charleston Grand Hotel," Rhett cried out loudly. "Rosemary, get downstairs, damn you!"

"Robert, darling, did you drink or eat something here?" Annabelle questioned with a feverous alarm in her voice, her heart in her throat.

"No, I didn't. I just offered Mrs Bedrow a glass of lemonade because she was thirsty," Robert said absentmindedly. He stiffened and his shoulders slumped. He clumsily slipped in the wooden chair and rubbed his cheek. "I also offered lemonade to some servants. And they surprisingly fainted... I don't know what happened."

"Thanks God that you didn't drink," the grey eyes sparkled in relief. She turned her mournful eyes to Rhett, with a half-frightened look. Her eyes were dry and cloudy.

"Son, it is alright. This will be fine. You will go with your grandma and Aunt Rosemary to the hotel," Rhett said softly and forced a vague smile.

"Alright, father," Robert replied, his eyes as though he was looking at him through non-transparent glass.

"Manigo, get the police here. Without any delays," Rhett ordered with authority. "Rosemary, where are you? Damn you, foolish villainess. Damn you..."

"I am here, Rhett," Rosemary replied, standing in the doorway as she had just returned from her bedroom after Rhett had called for her. "I will take the mother and Robert to the hotel."

Eleanor Butler lifted her body from the sofa and set. She ranged her blue eyes around the room and screamed as she saw Mrs Bedrow on the floor. When Robert saw Eleanor's horrent face, he approached his grandmother and silently plunged into her embrace. Rhett walked to Rosemary and grasped her arm tightly.

"Take them and go. You will answer to me with your head for them," Rhett quietly growled through the clenched teeth, but his tone was authoritative and fierce, his coal eyes fulminated in violence.

"Everything will be fine, Rhett," Rosemary answered slowly, her voice shaking. "Mother, Robert, please let's go. The carriage is waiting for us outside."

When Rhett and Annabelle heard the sound of the moving away carriage, Rhett began to curse uncontrollably. He was perambulating the room back and forth until he stopped, took the vase with flowers from the table and flopped it down into the bronze-framed mirror on the wall.

"Manigo! Manigo!" Rhett roared nearly violently. "Come here. Did you get the police?"

"I am here, Mister Rhett. I have just returned from the sheriff. They will be here in a couple of minutes," Manigo replied breathlessly.

"Thank you, Manigo. Who was here before the wedding?" Rhett asked in a calmer manner.

"Yesterday evening Miss Silvia, as you know. Today in the morning Mister Ross and this Madame, but she didn't come inside the house and left immediately from the front steps," Manigo responded and lowered his head timidly. His right hand showed on Annabelle.

"Yes, I had been here before I headed to the Church," Annabelle confirmed.

Rhett raised his eyebrows, his eyes glossy. "Ross Butler?" he nearly whistled.

"Yes, Mister Ross. He came to collect some things from his old bedroom today in the morning. He had a large suitcase. I asked him whether he was going to the wedding, but he said that he wasn't invited and that he was going back to Dunmore Landing. He also took several bottles of whisky from the cellar," the darkie finished and looked humbly at his patron.

"Bottles of whisky are exactly what Ross needs for happiness. And when was the lemonade delivered in those bottles?" Rhett questioned, showing on the two bottles on the wooden table near the sofa, his eyes blank.

"They were delivered yesterday from the shop," Manigo lisped.

"Before Miss Silvia came to the house or after?" Rhett interrogated.

"No, they were delivered at five in the afternoon, while Miss Silvia was there at eight in the afternoon with Miss Rosemary and Miss Eleanor," Manigo reported.

"Thank you, Manigo. You can go," Rhett replied, feeling as the blood was drumming in his head.

Annabelle's voice stroke a chord. "Who is Ross?"

"Ross Butler is my youngest brother. He lives in Dunmore Landing, our family plantation. I didn't invite him to the wedding because we aren't on good terms with him," Rhett explained.

Rhett told Annabelle Ross's history in brief. Due to bad, hateful relations with Rhett, _Ross Duncan Butler _wasn't invited to the wedding and hence stayed at Dunmore Landing, the Butler's former grand plantation, which currently included only the old house with columns not as proud and erect as before the war and the uncultivated land. Ross lived there because after the death of his wife Marianne several years ago, he had succumbed to alcoholism, had lost his job, and at times his behavior had inhibited furious patterns. It was rumored that Ross Butler had been nearly a chronic alcoholic. There were a lot of stories how Ross Butler had been seen near the brothel on Cannon Street, intoxicated and embracing loose women. Ross wasn't embarrassed to drink in public as several times he was seen on the front steps of the brothel, drinking from the bottle of whiskey.

The paradox was that Ross Duncan Butler had been an epitome of a proper Southern gentleman many years ago. Ross was the favorite child of Langston Butler, the deceased head of the Butler family. Langston had never been overfond of Rhett who had always been a disobedient boy and acted against the rules of the proper society. In the meantime, Ross had always wanted to be like his father. Ross and Langston had excellent relations as Ross tried to imitate his father and copied him in everyday life. Being pleased and even flattered by the behavior of such a devoted, manageable child, Langston madly loved Ross. He had never loved so strongly his other children – Rosemary and Rhett. After Langston's death, Ross was lost in his own world and began to drink on the weekends. Later, when his wife Marianne died, Ross began drinking heavily, and it seemed that nobody was able to help him. He was lost in the new world: there were no plantations and no slaves – everything old was ruined and everything new was so different and so foreign. Ross hated the Yankees and said on many occasions that they had ruined the gracious, perfect Old South. Ross leaved alone at Dunmore Landing because he didn't want to appear in the city patrolled by the Yankees in their blue uniforms. He hated that environment.

Alchogol helped Ross survive in the harsh outside world. Eleanor has been deeply unhappy with Ross's lifestyle since Ross's wife died. However, Eleanor could do nothing. Ross wished to live alone at Dunmore Landing, like anchoret, where he was drinking himself to stupor and numbness. Eleanor and Rosemary usually visited him once a month to give him money and check on him. Rhett rarely visited him because Ross hated Rhett who succeeded in his life and had money, while he had to live on the charity from his older brother. Ross always envied and cursed Rhett. After the war he was proud enough not to take the money from Rhett, but when he became alcohol-dependent, he didn't have other way out of the situation and had to take money from his mother – Rhett's money. In this situation his hatred for Rhett strengthened.

"I hope that those bottles of whisky from the cellar weren't poisoned," a heavy breath escaped Annabelle's lips, and she looked at Rhett with hopeful eyes.

"These bottles were shipped from France several years ago, and they are new and sealed," Rhett replied. "I don't think that Silvia poisoned them, but I will ask the police to get to Dunmore Landing and confiscate them from Ross just for precaution."

"It is a very wise decision," Annabelle agreed.

"Damn this Silvia! Damn Charleston! I was a damned fool! I didn't think that she would put the poison somewhere at home," Rhett bellowed, his face solidified.

"If she had a mixture of poison in medallion, giving immediate death, it automatically meant that she wanted more blood. She changed the poison in order to mask the death of the new victim, Rhett. But something is still messed up in the story."

"Damn wretched bitch… She must rot in hell," Rhett cursed, his voice awfully hoarse.

Annabelle stared at Rhett. Her strikingly grey eyes darkened in tandem with her distress and anxiety. "Who usually drinks lemonade?"

"Only Robert," Rhett replied briefly and glanced at her.

"This is the answer to the question what she wanted, Rhett. It was only for Robert, I guess."

"Sure, this wretch hated him, damn her and her family," Rhett hissed. "She didn't want my money to be spent on my son."

It was just a matter of luck that Italian princess of darkness didn't kill innocent young boy whose mother she managed to poison several months ago in Atlanta. It was also decided that Robert wouldn't be told about this unexercised attempt of his murder in order not to traumatize him.

Annabelle stared at Rhett. His voice turned so low it vibrated inside her. "My random guess is that this mixture of cooper sulphate with something results in the stop of the heart, so that it doesn't resemble the poisoning unless you see the glasses with poison."

"I don't know," he breathed.

"She is a goddamned woman… Undoubtedly, one of the worst I have ever met," Annabelle said. "But there is something else in this story..."

"I am too tired to think."

She tossed her head. "I see."

"Why do you reckon so?" Rhett's voice sounded wearily.

"This is just a sort of presentiment. Interesting poison… I doubt that the police will be able to define its exact contents," Annabelle shook her head.

When the police arrived, Annabelle left the Butler House and headed to another house on the Battery – the Robillard House. She was happy that Pauline and Eulalie lived so close to the Butler House on the Battery, so that she was able to get there very quickly. She flinched as she imagined how she will explain everything what happened to Eulalie and Pauline Robillard. It was so painful even to think about the tragedy and even more painful to explain its details.

Annabelle's grey eyes fixed on Eulalie and Pauline's two-storied house in the Neoclassical Style – a house with symmetrical shape, tall columns raising the full height of the building, triangular pediment, and a domed roof. The Robillard House looked like a typical antebellum house, which were built either in the Neoclassical Style or the Greek Revival Style. Everything was similar to each other in this city – Charleston was a pattern of plantation houses and mansions, which were so popular in the Old South. This was what Annabelle didn't like in the city. And how she could like it after Paris or London or Vienna or Rome where the buildings exhibited a mixture of various architectural styles, including her favorite the Baroque style and the Rococo style. Charleston was too monotonous and humdrum even in its architecture.

Annabelle approached the front door of the Robillard House and knocked. The doorkeeper opened the door and she went inside. She introduced herself and asked where Eulalie and Pauline were. The servant said that they both had been in their bedrooms. Annabelle found sleeping Pauline and decided not to disturb her. As Annabelle went to Eulalie's room, she heard her gasps and groans and whisperings. Eulalie hugged Annabelle and choked with tears for around an hour. When Pauline awoke and joined Eulalie and Annabelle in Eulalie's bedroom. Together Eulalie and Pauline wept away until fatigue overcame them.

Soon Mr Arthur Wafford, known to be the best physician in Charleston, came to the Robillard House. He spent around an hour, examining Eulalie and Pauline. The physician announced that both Eulalie and Pauline were fine, apart from nervous shock and general depression. However, given Eulalie's persistent, lingering problems with cardio rhythm and constant feeling sick before the wedding, Mr Wafford ordered Eulalie to be bedridden and pledged to visit her every day to observe her health on a regular basis in order to diminish the risk of a serious heart attack. The doctor recommended Pauline to stay in bed for several days to facilitate the subsidence of the consequences of strong emotional shock subside and to feel well rested. After Mr Wafford left the house, Pauline again came to Eulalie's room, and grasps and groans flooded the air.

Pauline sobbed on Annabelle's shoulder. "Oh, God! My dear Annabelle! How could this happen… And she died…"

"Madame Pauline, please try to relax and sleep. It is over now," Annabelle appeased her.

"Oh, please call us Aunt Eulalie and Aunt Pauline," Pauline said, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. "It will be much easier."

Annabelle smiled at them. "Thank you, Aunt Pauline."

"It was awful," Pauline groaned, wiping her tears with white handkerchief.

"It is over now," Annabelle consoled them.

"I am so happy that I wasn't in the Church when Silvia died," Eulalie's shaking voice resonated. She was also sobbing.

Pauline swallowed hard. "This is so unprecedented, so disgusting," she wailed.

Annabelle gave to them a half shrug. "I may only agree," she murmured.

"Annabelle, darling, I understand you why you interrupted the wedding," Eulalie concluded, tears streaming down her face. "But it was so unexpected… And Silvia is a murderess…"

Pauline blessed herself with the cross. "I hope Scarlett will recover soon. God bless her and us."

"God save and protect us from the devil like Silvia… Our dear Scarlett," Eulalie said through tears.

Annabelle handed to Eulalie her second fresh handkerchief to wipe her tears from her face as Eulalie's one was wet with tears. Happily, she always had two handkerchiefs with her. Now she had no more as she used one to wrap the glass with the poisoned lemonade and gave to Eulalie the other one. As her grey eyes again fixed at Eulalie and Pauline's pale faces with red and watering eyes, Annabelle cringed at their stark pain and distress.

"Scarlett will be fine soon, she is strong. She will survive," she said softly.

"I hope so much that Scarlett will recover soon," Pauline murmured. "God, please help Scarlett."

"Please, Aunts, take your rest," Annabelle persuaded.

When Annabelle returned to the Butler House, the police was in the process of searching through the mansion. The bodies of the deceased darkies and Mrs Bedrow were taken by the police. A planned bloodshed on the celebration dinner was now undoubted. All the meal and drinks were confiscated by the police, and the Butlers had to spend the night at the Charleston Grand Hotel where Annabelle was staying. Finally, several bottles of suspicious lemonade were identified, and in each bottle the smell of lemonade was the same as the smell of the poison which Silvia used to kill herself in order not to be arrested and disgraced. Unfortunately, it was impossible to identify the exact type of the poison, but it was explicitly assumed to be of Italian origin. The same day the police of Charleston visited _Ross Duncan Butler_ at Dunmore Landing and confiscated his bottles of whisky. Ross protested and made a scandal out of that trifle, but the police forced him to return the bottles. Whiskey turned out not to be poisoned, and Rhett had guessed correctly.

The night was spent by all Butlers at the Charleston Grand Hotel. The doctor confirmed that Eleanor Butler didn't have any negative consequences for her health. However, she was recommended to spend several days in the bed. Rosemary was reserved, and Robert retired to his room number early.

In the early afternoon of next day, Ross Butler returned back to Charleston and came to the Butler mansion, but he was instructed to find everybody at the Charleston Grand Hotel – the state administration sealed up all the doors for investigation for the next several days. Having heard from the police what happened in the Church and having listened to some rumors about the scandal around the family, Ross urgently left Dunmore Landing for Charleston. He found Rhett, Eleanor and Rosemary in the living room of Rhett's large suite, while Robert was in his own room number. He entered the room with a smile of triumph, being happy that Rhett was in such a sordid situation.

Ross looked awful: he was unshaven, his thick black hair was rumpled and unwashed, and his white shirt was grubby, half buttoned. Except for his limp white shirt, he was dressed entirely in black, in clothing that had long ago fallen out of fashion. Although Ross was several years younger than Rhett, at that time he looked older than even current Rhett who was drinking heavily before the wedding. Alcoholism was gradually destroying Ross's health and appearance in the past years. His dark brown, nearly black eyes were bloodshot and his body, muscular like Rhett's, was bloated significantly, again due to the abundance of alcohol he consumed on a daily basis. He was as tall as Rhett was. However, there was a waspish, unhidden cynicism on Ross's face, and that cynicism was inelegant. At Dunmore he was drunk almost every day.

Ross's dark brown eyes, beneath lowered lids, looked sideways at his family members. "Rhett, my dear brother, hello… Mother and Rosemary, I missed you so much," a low-pitched, drawling voice spoke.

Rosemary sniffed in disgust as she hated untidy men. "Hello, Ross. Please button your shirt."

"Fine, my dear sister," Ross replied loudly and whistled. He completely buttoned his shirt. "Hello mother. I missed you."

"Hi son," Eleanor replied shortly, looking at him without any enthusiasm as emotional fatigue after the scandal had taken all her energy.

"Rhett, my dear brother, you are again in the center of the scandal," Ross hissed waspishly.

Rhett sighed heavily. "Why did you come? I didn't invite you here, Ross."

Ross broke into loud laugh. "I arrived because I wanted to see whether the rumors are true. News travels fast." He was intoxicated with whisky. Ross awkwardly settled in the sofa and lit his cigar.

"As you see, it is truth," Rhett commented nonchalantly, not looking at him.

"Besides, I wasn't very pleased when yesterday's evening the police confiscated all the bottles of great French whisky I took from our house yesterday," Ross complained.

"You can buy new bottles, if you need. As I see, you have already bought some," Rosemary interjected, glancing at Ross with disdain as she estimated the extent of his insobriety.

Ross smiled wryly. "Yes, I have, Rosemary. However, this whisky isn't as fine as that one our dear brother ships from France."

A wide grin appeared on Rhett's face. "Don't worry, Ross, I will give you more once we know that it is not poisoned. It is for your safety, brother."

"Thank you for such honest-to-goodness care, Rhett, but we both know that this is lie," Ross replied.

"Ross, stop it! Rhett cares for you, you know it. If he hadn't cared for you, I don't know what would have happened with you in the past years," Eleanor objected, her blue eyes snapping fire of displeasure.

"Mother, don't treat me as a disobedient child," Ross countered. "I am a man and not a child. I have grown up a long time ago."

Eleanor shook her head."Ross, at times I think that you are still a child."

Ross laughed. "Mother, look at me! I am such a big boy! Don't you see it? Perhaps, my dear brother Rhett must buy glasses for you," he mocked.

"Ross! Shut up!" Rhett warned. His voice was as hard as steel. His black eyes were flashing in anger at his younger brother. "Otherwise I will close your waspish mouth!"

"Son, it is neither time nor place for clownery," Eleanor admitted.

"Mother, I am sory if I was harsh," Ross agreed. He cast an apologetic view at Eleanor.

"It is fine, son," Eleanor babbled. What else could she say? Ross was her son.

"Ross! You are a fool and a scoundrel!" Rosemary raised her voice.

Ross giggled. "Look at yourself, sister." He theatrically bowed to Rhett. "My dear brother, you are the arch-villain of Charleston," he scoffed.

"Ross, please keep your sharp tongue behind and respect our mother. Otherwise, I will have to deal with you in a rough manner," Rhett snapped negligently. He narrowed his black eyes and looked at Rhett with challenge. "Ross, I see that you don't respect yourself, but I don't care. If you don't respect our mother, you will answer to me. I promise."

Ross tossed his head and grimaced."Yes, I will answer to you," he mocked.

Rhett ignored Ross's venomous statement. "Why did you come to our house on the Battery exactly yesterday's morning?" Rhett's voice was hoarse, while his eyes studied his brother from the feet to his crown.

Ross winked at Rhett. "I can come to our house when I want. I am also the member of the Butler family." He hiccoughed.

"Ross, correct your manners!" Rosemary cried out in irritation.

"Rosemary, be simpler," Ross parried.

"Ross, I didn't say that you aren't the member of the family," Rhett added and burst into a roar of laugher at Ross and the irritating situation. He stepped away and bowed his head, seemingly lost in thought.

"Oh, my dear brother, you would love to expel me from the Butler family forever," Ross mocked. "I know it for sure."

Rhett drew a long, tired breath. "Ross, you are wrong. If I had wanted to expel your from the family, I would never talk to you again and would never allow you to meet our mother and our sister. Probably, you are talking nonsense because you are missing whisky in the cellar."

"I came because I was running out of your fine whisky and scotch, my favorite ones, and because I decided to collect all my things from the bedroom before your new wife settles down in the house." Ross blinked sleepily and stretched his body on the sofa. "I am sorry, but I had to get up early to get here from Dunmore."

Rhett made an unpleasant chuckle. "You can go back to Dunmore Landing, Ross. I hope you didn't forget your way there."

"My dear brother, you are again talking to me so arrogantly and nonchalantly. You are so great," Ross snickered venomously.

"It doesn't matter, Ross. I suggest you finish your cigar and leave," Rhett said in a low voice.

Ross stretched his long legs on the carpet and inhaled the smoke of his cigar. Then he smiled broadly. "Which poison did she use – blue cooper sulphate?" he suddenly asked in a low-pitched voice,

His fatigued mind hearkened that Ross had called the name of the poison. Rhett was bewildered. "Ross, where did you know the name of the poison?" he questioned, raising his brows in expectation.

"Brother, everybody in the city says it, as well as that your fiancée was related to… erm… I don't remember the surname… those poisoners from Italy. I just wimbled into several old matrons in the street and they told me the story in details. They insulted our family and mostly you, my dear brother. Besides, the police officer was talkative yesterday, the one who took my whisky from me," Ross shrugged and laughed loudly and ugly, closing his eyes. He threw the half-smoked cigar on the carpet and tramped it down.

Rosemary averted her gaze. "Ross, we are in the hotel, not on the street," she commented. "Don't forget your manners."

Ross's brows curved as horned moon. "I think that you are the least suitable person to reprimand me, my dear sister, because if the rumors are true…"

Rhett interrupted him. "Ross, shut up. At first look at your life. Since you lost your job, you have been drinking like a fish and you don't work anymore. Instead, you sleep, drink, take loose woman, and again sleep and drink. And you also torment our mother and sister," he growled through clenched teeth as he was becoming more and more irritated. He was happy that Robert wasn't in the room.

Eleanor blushed. "Rhett, son, don't mention those… erm… those women! It is improper!" Her voice was trembling."Mother, it is truth what Rhett is talking about. Ross, do you have any shame?" Rosemary asked. "And, please, respect our mother."

Ross extended his legs again on the carpet. "I respect our mother and I love her, my dear sister," he chuckled, his face screwed up.

"So far I don't see this, Ross," Rosemary continued.

"What do you need, Ross?" Rhett asked in rising irritation, his coal eyes darker and darker.

"I live like you live, Rhett. But I agree that I am much worse than you, Rhett. You have always won in our battles, except for one – our father loved me and cursed you. You are a gambler and a speculator, and what did your ill-gotten gains bring to us? Only death," Ross continued to insult Rhett, his hands trembling, his gait unsteady. "Our father was correct that you are an outcast and a black sheep. He hated you till his deathbed, Rhett."

"Please, Ross, Rhett is your brother," Eleanor pleaded. "Please, hush up."

"Even despite being this murderess, your fiancée didn't deserve such terrible death! You, Rhett, didn't save Mrs Dawson in the Church and allowed her to die in the most unchristianlike way," Ross said, some heartsinking peeping out his voice.

"Why do you care, Ross? All that you care is related to bottles of my fine whisky," Rhett taunted acidly. "You would better find a new job, brother."

"I know better what I need, Rhett Butler. You will never order me what to do," Ross smirked cheekily. "I just mentioned that there is another death on your account. I remember the father of that young girl whom you disgraced in the buggy ride many years ago. You killed him in the duel." Ross paused and cleared his throat. He lit a new cigar.

Eleanor cast a serious, disapproving glance at Ross. "What are you up to, Ross?" she intervened.

"I mean that Rhett probably killed not only that man," Ross grimaced crookedly.

"Ross, shut up!" Rosemary raised her voice. "Don't be so ungrateful to Rhett!"

"You cannot reprimand me, my dear Rosemary," Ross countered.

"Ross, hush up! Hush up!" Eleanor ordered strictly and rose to her feet.

"I don't care, Ross, what you do and think as soon as you are alive and don't insult me and disrespect our mother and sister," Rhett pronounced frigidly. "Mother, please don't worry. Take a sit."

"Ross, you have become a chronic alcoholic," Rosemary said, her voice sodden with displeasure. "At least you shouldn't let yourself look so unkempt."

"Sister, I don't care." Ross laughed madly. "When will you get married in the end, sister?"

"Ross!" Eleanor barked. Her face colored ever so slightly when she assured him she had enjoyed good health. "Son, please stop it. You are on the wrong path."

"Ross, you are intoxicated as usual," Rosemary said sadly, her face ashen and voice quivering. Trembling, she sank into a chair.

"Ross, I am not interested in what you think or say," Rhett retorted. "Don't forget that you live on my money - my dirty gambling and speculator's money."

A flash of anger leapt to Ross's eyes. Then he guffawed. "I will never forget how rich you are, Rhett."

"If you hate me so much, you can abstain from taking the money our mother gives to you each month," Rhett replied icily, his eyes blank.

Rosemary frowned. "You are unwelcome here, Ross, especially when are insulting us."

"Now please leave back for Dunmore Landing before I throw you out of this room," Rhett ordered in a commanding voice and approached Ross. He gripped him for his forearm and pushed to the door.

"Mother…" Ross looked at Eleanor with pleading black eyes, wandering around.

"Son, please leave and take care of your appearance," Eleanor lamented as she didn't want more family scandals.

"You think I must take care of my appearance because I don't look as dashing as your minion Rhett looks." Ross cocked a brow. "All beautiful women are for Rhett Butler, including the ravishing Scarlett."

"Ross," Rhett warned sternly. "Never talk to our mother in such a tone."

"Please leave now. We will talk later," Eleanor commanded, her voice sharp.

"You are unwanted here, Ross. The door is behind," Rhett roared at Ross. "If you need more money, please visit my lawyer Mr Devillers next week. He will give you the check. Besides, I will order and send a new box of whisky especially for you. You will receive it at Dunmore Landing in several days."

"Thank you, my dear brother, for your charity. I hope it will be French whisky," Ross smiled.

"It will be as you wish. Now please leave. Have a pleasant way back to Dunmore," Rhett said and cursed under his breath.

"Goodbye, Ross," Rosemary said.

"Goodbye, son," Eleanor said dryly. She bestowed a grateful smile on Ross for leaving them.

"Have a pleasant trip to Europe, and I will stay here on the ruins of the Butler family," Ross bowed low as though he had finished a performance in the circus and slammed the door loudly in outrage.

However, _Ross Duncan Butler_ was a very unpredictable man. Soon Ross was discovered on the steps of the whorehouse on Beresford Street - on the steps of _Grace Piexotto's_ high-class bordello "_Big Brick House"_. He was intoxicated with alcohol, his body immobilized. He was so drunk that couldn't catch the carriage and go to the hotel where the Butlers were staying. It happened on the same day when Ross visited his family at the Charleston Ground Hotel and was asked to leave for Dunmore Landing. But he didn't leave the city. Instead, Ross went to the brothel and got drunk. As he collapsed on the steps of the building, the girls, who worked at the brothel, came to Rhett Butler at the Charleston Grand Hotel and asked him to collect Ross from their establishment. Ross spent that night at the hotel as Rhett rented a separate room number for him. Ross was sleeping and often mumbled something unclear under his nose.

In the morning, after Ross awoke, the terrible scandal happened in the Butler family as Eleanor and Rosemary accused Ross of behaving so impudently and so shamelessly in the time when the Butler family was bathing in ocean of scandalous groans and whisperings. Ross only laughed in their faces and asked to have a breakfast. Ross demanded not to disturb him in the coming weeks because he wanted to be alone, with his own thoughts. Rhett, Eleanor, and Rosemary found it to be strange, but agreed to leave Ross alone for a couple of weeks. Rhett offered Ross some money, but Ross rejected and scoffed at Rhett with a satirical smile on his tired face, bloated from alcohol. After the breakfast, without any other words, Ross left for Dunmore Landing, cursing Rhett Butler and saying that he brought only death to their family.

Next day, Mrs Bedrow's funeral took place, which had become one of the most tragic events in Charleston since the end of the war. The whole city went to give the final farewell blessings to the old honorable matron of Charleston. The huge funeral procession marched along the King Street and further up to the Magnolia Cemetery on the banks of the Cooper River. Weeping in the crowd was constant and heightened as the procession was moving closer and closer to the freshly excavated grave. When the black coffin went down the ground, gentlemen put off their hats and ladies enclosed their handkerchiefs to their red faces.

Eleanor, Rhett and Rosemary attended the funeral, but they kept in distance during the whole funeral procession. Ross Butler didn't attend the funeral. Only Mrs Bromwell was well-disposed to Eleanor and Rosemary, while the other Old Guard greeted her politely, but with a look of confusion on their faces. Silvia's mother _Ornella Simona Albertson_ came to the funeral, but all the Old Guard expelled her from the Cemetery with loud cries of accusations and contempt. Before leaving the funeral procession, Ornella Simona approached the Butlers. Her tall slim figure in a black morning gown made a horrendous impression.

"Hello, Miss Eleanor, Miss Rosemary, Mister Rhett," Ornella Simona began.

Eleanor forced an artificial smile. "Good afternoon, Miss Ornella Simona."

"Hello, Mrs Albertson," Rhett said coldly, his eyes blank.

"Good afternoon, Mrs Albertson," Rosemary murmured.

"I know that it is not the best moment for the conversation…" Ornella Simona stumbled with words. She paused, waiting, feeling vaguely uneasy.

Eleanor sighed wearily. "Indeed, it is not the best moment," she agreed.

"I wanted to express my most sincere apologies for my daughter's actions," Ornella Simona declared, her eyes swollen and full of tears. Her voice was shaking, her hands trembling. "I am ashamed of my own daughter because… because… I am so sorry, Miss Eleanor, Mister Rhett…"

"Mrs Albertson, it is in the past. We don't harbor malice on you," Eleanor responded.

"I hope that your former wife, Mister Rhett, will recover soon. I know that she has a chance if the rumors are true…" Ornella paused as a new wave of tears claimed her. She tried to swallow sobs, but her throat was too narrow and as though pressed together.

"I don't doubt that you know about Scarlett's state. It is you who taught your dear insane daughter this pandemoniac art of poisoning," Rhett chuckled.

"Mister Rhett, I am so sorry… I never knew that she would do such dreadful things," Ornella moaned.

"You should have known as her mother," Rhett snapped scornfully. "Now too many people are dead because of your failure to control your daughter's behavior."

Eleanor cast an disapproving glance at Rhett. "Rhett, son, please don't say so," Eleanor pleaded. "It is neither time nor place to quarrel."

"I am so sorry… I am so sorry… I hope Miss Scarlett will be fine," Mrs Albertson said.

"We hope that your husband will recover soon," Eleanor uttered hesitantly and averted her eyes.

Ornella sniffled. "Thank you, Mrs Butler."

Eleanor smiled in a way that made her seem suddenly much younger. "You are welcome, Mrs Albertson."

"I am so sorry," Ornella Simona whispered. "Will you be able to ever forgive my daughter and our family?"

"God or devil will forgive your daughter," Rhett answered to her invocations. "I think it will be devil who will embrace her."

The note of irony in Rhett's voice couldn't have escaped Eleanor who promptly flushed beetroot-colored. Rosemary experienced a curious shock as their eyes met. "Rhett, please watch your language," Eleanor half pleaded, half ordered as she raised her voice to a higher octave. Then she looked at Ornella Simona. "I am sorry for his behavior. He is not himself now."

"I am sorry for being rude, Mrs Albertson," Rhett admitted, his voice softer.

"I understand, Mr Butler," Ornella replied. "I am very sorry…"

"Mrs Albertson, please leave now," Rosemary tried to talk softly, but her voice was still hoarse. "It would be better for everybody."

Ornella nodded. Her eyes were glassy. She wrapped her arms across her chest as though to keep herself from shivering. "I understand."

"I think we are better to go on separate ways starting from this minute," Rhett's cold voice resonated.

"You are right, Mr Butler. I am very sorry," Ornella Simona repeated as though on her last breath. She wiped her red cheeks and blew her nose. She turned around and plodded along the moist sandy path, surrounded by the graves and accompanied by scornful, depreciatory glances and whisperings in her wake.

* * *

_A quick update comes as a gift for you and for me on my yesterday's birthday. I hope you will like this chapter. Perhaps, you will see some new twists here. Act III starts in the next chapter and it will be Rhett-Scarlett-centered - emotions, evolution of characters and their relations, as well as some other intrigues._

_I have already started Act IV. Some of the twists of Act IV will be evident in Act III. The general story line of Act IV is defined by now because I am out of writer's block._

_I will try to update on a regular basis, but I am currently having tons of work to be done, so that if any further delay comes, I am very sorry in advance._

_Reviews are always appreciated. Thank you very much because you make my mood to continue._


	50. Chapter 50

**Chapter 50**

**The aftermath of the tragedies in Charleston and London**

The scandal around the recent events in Charleston was outrageous and unprecedented. Never before had somebody canceled the wedding in such a scandalous and affectionate manner. Never before had a proper lady from a respectful old family died on the wedding day, in the church and, on top of it, on the altar. Never could somebody think that a proper lady, like _Silvia Ferdinanda Albertson Dawson _was assumed to be, could be a latent murderer or a latent murderess. Never could somebody imagine the respectable old matron of Charleston, like Mrs Bedrow, could be poisoned by another proper lady and in fact murderer. Everybody was gossiping everywhere – on the tea parties, charity events, memorial evenings, dinners, in the city's market, in the shops, in the streets. Usually calm, ceremonial atmosphere of Charleston was wracked by the recent scandal in the Grace Episcopal Church and by the bitter, rough truth.

The horror of social ostracism crashed down on the Butler family, the Montecuculi noble house, where Silvia's mother was coming from, and the Albertson family, where Silvia's father belonged to. The involvement of the Robillard family was also widely discussed by folks, but it was relegated to the sidelines as the gossipers focused on Rhett and Silvia's families. However, people were extremely interested in enigmatic French aristocratic lady who interrupted Rhett and Silvia's wedding in the Grace Episcopal Church. Newsmongers knew that her name was Annabelle and she was from the Robillards, but they didn't have detailed information about this _femme fatale_ who demolished peace and tranquility of the city so scandalously. The rules in the Southern society were so strict that to be caught in the wrong fashion at the wrong time of day was as greatly to be feared as addressing a member of society by a wrong title. In the light of the recent events, all the rules of the proper society were breached with indescribable rudeness and barbarity.

Fortunately, Eleanor Butler, and Eulalie and Pauline Robillard only fainted in the Church, and there were no negative consequences for their health. Eulalie and Pauline asked Annabelle in details about what happened in the Church. When they learnt the truth, they realized that Annabelle couldn't have acted in another way. They promised to visit Annabelle and Scarlett in Paris on Christmas because Eulalie was still under strict doctor's control and wasn't recommended to travel during the next several months as she needed another course of special treatment. Of course, Eulalie and Pauline were more than happy to know that Scarlett was alive in London. In general, the scandal around the Robillard family was pushed away somewhere in the shadow on the back on the scandal around the Butler and the Albertson families.

The Butler family's reputation was razed to the ground as too many doubtful, discreditable events around the family dishonored, scandalized, and disgraced their name completely. Everybody remembered all past sins of Rhett Butler. Lazy audience was whispering how Rhett was expelled from West Point many years ago and how he earned all his ill-gotten, dirty money in his blockade-running times and in other doubtful adventures. Charleston inhabitants recalled Rhett's scandalous divorce with Scarlett two and a half years ago and the story of Scarlett's adultery with Ashley Wilkes who was now dead. People were also yawping with their tongues about Rhett's illegitimate son and quickly spreading news about Rhett and Scarlett's children whom his former wife had to conceal from her former husband for strange reasons. Scandalmongers were talking that Rhett was a monster and womanizer who never loved his former wife and made her run away from him to hide the children to hedge them against rotten-hearted influence of their father. Townspeople even recollected the event that preceded Rhett's expulsion from Charleston and banishment from his family when Rhett took a Charleston girl out in a buggy ride, stayed out with her nearly all night, finally walked home and, having explained that the horse had run away and they got lost in the woods, refused to marry her. Butler's family was now associated exclusively with _with a scandal, ill-gotten money, and death, while Rhett was entitled as a womanizer, a villain, a scoundrel, a rascal, and a forerunner of death and calamity._

The situation became even worse when one of the former darkie maids at the Butler mansion told another darkie maid at the house of one old matron that it was Rhett Butler who purchased the yellow house with classical Greek columns for Eleanor and Rosemary on the Battery. Because Rhett wasn't received in Charleston, he and his mother made up a story that Rhett's father Langston Butler left an enormous life insurance for his family and that he had beggared himself and starved himself to death in order to pay the payments. The official story was that after Langston Butler died, Rhett's family received the enormous insurance and bought the house with the servants. Now when the whole city was gossiping that all property and life of the Butler family were financed by gambling and speculator's money, as well as by Carpetbag's money, Eleanor and Rosemary were stopped on the street by old matrons and asked about how it was possible. Eleanor usually shrugged and answered that she had known nothing about that, while Rosemary always kept silent and swallowed her sobs.

"Poor Eleanor Butler! Her sons Rhett and Ross are such black sheep in the whole Charleston society," Mrs Bromwell said sorrowfully and clapped her hands. "Rhett Butler is a divorced man. And now he disgraced his own family and the Albertson family, while Silvia again disgraced the Albertson family."

Mrs Wondermurt shrugged both in bewilderment and in disgust. "Both Rhett Butler and Ross Butler are scandalous!"

Mrs Bromwell sighed. "This divorce with Scarlett O'Hara was quite a scandal because Rhett Butler received the divorce decree despite the official prohibition of the divorce in the Southern Carolina," she said.

"What a scandalous man! Do you remember how he disgraced that young lady in the buggy ride many years ago?" Miss Margaret Elsbrow whimpered, crossing her arms on her chest.

"Yes, it was around twenty five years ago, but I still remember this shame," Mrs Bromwell answered.

"Rhett Butler disgraced two ladies in Charleston – young Caroline twenty five years ago and now _Silvia Ferdinanda Albertson Dawson_, who in addition was a murderess. He also dishonored Scarlett O'Hara with divorce. Maybe, she wasn't as guilty as we had thought in the beginning," Mrs Edmondston admitted, her eyes snapping fire.

"Rhett has always been a doubtful man. His father expelled him from the family and, sorry, cursed him till his deathbed. Poor Miss Eleanor to have such an unscrupulous, immoral son," Mrs Brewton added.

"I have heard that Rosemary Butler was somehow involved in Silvia Dawson's deal," Mrs Manigault added, her face went crimson. "She isn't arrested, but she was involved in some intrigues with Silvia."

"Do you remember them on our tea parties? They have always been together," Mrs Davidson declared.

"Yes, they were. Who knows what they had discussed in solitude," Mrs Wondermurt said. "I don't trust Rosemary Butler. I will never receive her again, even for Miss Eleanor."

"We must exile from our community Rosemary Butler and Rhett Butler," Mrs Edmondston proclaimed.

"Rosemary Butler was never married, and after this loathsome scandal nobody from Charlestonians will ever court her," Mrs Davidson declared.

"Undoubtedly, nobody from the whole South will ever court her," Mrs Wondermurt admitted.

"Eleanor Butler is such a wonderful woman, and it is a great pity that her children are such immoral scoundrels." Mrs Brewton shook her head. "And Rhett Butler nearly married the murderer…"

"This is ghoulish that he nearly married a murderer. I have also heard that his former wife Scarlett O'Hara had to escape from him in order to save her children," Miss Barbara Hampton spelled out.

Mrs Wondermurt swept her eyes across the company of the matrons. "You mean his children. I heard that Rhett Butler had abandoned his pregnant former wife and had divorced her," she said indignantly.

"Rhett Butler is such a black-hearted scoundrel," Mrs Bromwell signed heavily, her face turned crimson.

"What a monstrous and inhuman action! He is a villain and an outcast, shame for his family," Mrs Davidson yammered.

"And the scandal with the insurance is terrible! Their former maid told another darkie that Miss Eleanor's house had been bought using Rhett Butler's dirty money. There was no insurance," Mrs Brewton interjected.

"This is so repulsive! Don't forget about the scandal with the boy Robert whom Rhett Butler had claimed. Don't forget that his mother was the Madame of the whorehouse," Miss Margaret Elsbrow said and blushed.

"We all know that Rhett Butler has spent a lot of time in the downtown of Charleston in that shameful place… well… with those loose women," Mrs Brewton barked.

"He is such a vulgar man. He disgraces proper ladies and… erm… throws himself at loose women," Mrs Bromwell wailed, her eyes got frantic.

Mrs Brewton blew her nose. "I deeply sympathize to Miss Scarlett O'Hara whom he divorced several years ago! I have heard rumors that Silvia Dawson poisoned her at one of the exclusive, luxurious events in London."

"Indeed, Miss Scarlett O'Hara is very sick, but she is alive. God bless her," Mrs Manigault exclaimed.

"God bless her," the ladies cried out in chorus.

"Rhett Butler has made his great fortune in doubtful ways. I have tried to ignore this fact because of our dear Eleanor, but I have always kept it in my mind," Mrs Wondermurt stated with condemnation.

"There were rumors that he bribed the state administration to get the divorce with Scarlett O'Hara who lately got married to a noble French gentleman," Miss Barbara Hampton said.

"Oh, my God!" the ladies exclaimed in unison and clapped their hands in tandem. Miss Margaret Elsbrow even blessed herself with the cross.

"What a shame! Poor Miss Eleanor! She is such a good, kind woman," Mrs Brewton grieved.

"Rhett Butler wasn't received anywhere in Charleston for a long time. We shouldn't have begun to accept him in our houses and hearts, ladies," Mrs Russell handed her verdict.

"Even for Miss Eleanor I will never receive Rhett Butler again," Mrs Manigault said.

"I will also banish him from my house," Mrs Wondermurt shook her head. "Don't forget that Rhett Butler was _Carpetbaggers_! He is white trash! He is not from true Southerners."

"The rest of _Carpetbaggers_ should be exiled from the South Carolina and the whole South," Mrs Bromwell's voice resonated. "My husband said that they will be substituted by the Republicans in the state administration. In this case corruption will diminish, and people like Rhett Butler won't have a free rein. I would love to see his money confiscated."

"Indeed, Rhett Butler was from _Carpetbaggers_ in the past, and his money comes from them," Miss Barbara Hampton spelled out with indignation in her sonorous voice. "What a shame!"

"Miss Eleanor has recently donated three hundred dollars to the Orphan House and two hundred dollars to the Ladies Benevolent Society. The Butlers were very generous in the past years," Miss Margaret Elsbrow added. "Mrs Silvia Dawson and her mother Ornella Simona Albertson also donated a lot."

"It is dirty, illegal money – gambling, speculations during the war, and despoliation of the Confederacy treasury as I have heard," Mrs Bromwell commented and blew her nose in disgust.

"Rhett Butler betrayed the Confederacy and stole our money!" Mrs Brewton cried out.

"Exactly!" the ladies agreed in chorus.

"And Silvia Dawson murdered the mother of Rhett Butler's son in Atlanta. She murdered that loose woman," Mrs Davidson closed her eyes. "And he nearly married this murderer! You only imagine this!"

"Rhett Butler is an atrocious, dishonorable man, a womanizer and a rascal," Mrs Bromwell said. "It is very pity that the Butler name is associated only with ill-gotten gains, death, and scandal. Rhett Butler is always side by side with death. I will propose to ignore him even in the street. We should never receive both Rhett and Rosemary Butler."

"Don't forget about Ross Butler, this chronic alcoholic. Three months ago he was found drunken somewhere in the street," Mrs Wondermurt said.

Mrs Brewton flinched as she remembered the recent scandal around Ross. "And recently Ross Butler was discovered drunk on the steps of that establishment - _Grace Piexotto's_ "_Big Brick House_" on Beresford Street."

"It is loathsome!" Mrs Edmondston exclaimed.

"I have known that Ross Butler has been drinking heavily after his wife's death, but I couldn't suppose something awful like you are describing," Miss Barbara Hampton clapped her hands.

"Let's banish Rhett, Ross, and Rosemary Butler from the community of Charleston," the verdict followed in unison.

"I have heard that the Butlers will sell their house on the Battery after the bloodshed there," Mrs Manigault interjected. "Rhett Butler promised his mother to buy a new one."

The old matrons deeply sympathized to Eleanor Butler as they considered her to be a gentle, kind woman and a great lady of Charleston. They still accepted her under their roof, but some of the Old Guard still did this with reluctantly. Besides, some rumors about Rosemary Butler's involvement in Silvia Dawson's deal began to spread, and although Rosemary wasn't arrested as the police found nothing to accuse her of, there were a lot of black-hearted whisperings and lamentations behind Rosemary's back. Neither Rhett nor Rosemary was received in the whole Charleston. Of course, Ross Butler also couldn't hope to be received in Charleston. Rhett and Annabelle decided that Rosemary hadn't been playing and hadn't been involved in the murders because there was seemingly nothing that could make them doubt that fact. However, both of them felt that something was messed up in the story of the poisoning.

While a long time ago Rhett refused to marry the proper lady from Charleston, now the proper lady whom he wanted to marry turned out to be a murderer and died in the most God-averse, unchristianlike way. The police investigation proved that it was Silvia Dawson who murdered poor Belle Watling in Atlanta. Moreover, government authorities ordered to open _John Jeremiah Dawson's_ tomb for further examination of his body. The results of John Dawson's exhumation referred to a "fairly well preserved" body. However, after examining the portraits drawn by two artists during John's life and their comparison to his body, experts hypothesized that John Dawson's death had most likely been caused by cooper sulphate poisoning. In addition, gossips were spreading about the bloodshed at the Butler mansion after the wedding when Mrs Bedrow and two dark servants were poisoned. Gossips about the poisoning and the murder of two people from the high society in London flooded in people's conscience and contributed greatly to the perception of the Albertson and the Montecuculi families as the anathematized families. Silvia's name was even lined through the Church bible in the Grace Episcopal Church.

Ornella Simona Albertson and her husband Nathaniel Albertson were in profound grief for their loss. Nathaniel Albertson had a serious heart attack in the Grace Episcopal Church after Rhett Butler announced that there would be no wedding. Silvia's parents weren't in the Church when Silvia committed a suicide. Later, after the brief meeting at the Magnolia Cemetery on Mrs Bedrow's funeral, Ornella Simona came to the Butlers in the hotel and asked Rhett in details about what had happened. She came despite Rhett's proposal to be on separate ways, which he verbalized to Ornella Simona on the funeral. Rhett, Eleanor, and Rosemary weren't exited to see her, but anyway politely answered her questions and gave her their condolences. Ornella Simona told the whole story that Silvia indeed was an excellent virtuous in the art of poisoning, but she swore many times on the Bible that she hadn't known that her daughter Silvia had been a murderess. The police of Charleston also didn't found something doubtful in her words. As a result, it was formally agreed that only Silvia had been a black sheep in Albertson family. It was just a family secret that was supposed to be transferred from one generation to another. Ornella Simona didn't know that Silvia would go off her chump and commit bloodcurdling murders. Both Ornella Simona and Nathaniel Albertson became outcasts in the city and spent the whole time in their elegant white house on the High Battery.

Silvia Dawson's story was retold everywhere and endless number of times in a daytime. Everybody in Charleston now knew that Silvia had had her historical roots in the area of Tuscany and that she had descended from the Montecuculi noble house, whose representatives had been the friends of the Medici family and had received the knowledge in a murderous art of poisoning from them. Once in the shop, Ornella Simona Albertson, Silvia's mother, was shocked when she witnessed two young girls gossiping behind her back about the Montecuculi family's secret of "envenoming medallion." Another time Ornella Simona went to the charity event of the Ladies Benevolent Society and was intending to donate a vast part of Silvia Dawson's money to charity. However, she was refused on the ground that Silvia's money was cursed, unchristian money. Moreover, the charity organizations of Charleston politely asked her to leave the event. After that incident, crushed by daughter's death and the unexpected, bitter truth, Silvia's parents stayed at home together with their younger daughter Celesta Albertson. In their unblessed solitude they prayed for the abolishment of their rakish daughter's crimes and transgressions.

"The most repulsive thing is that Silvia Dawson died on the altar of the Grace Episcopal Church!" Mrs Brewton purred.

Mrs Wondermurt shut her eyes and blessed herself. "I will never come to that Church again! I just cannot!"

"This is a sacrilege. God bless us…" Mrs Bromwell mumbled. "She murdered so many people. This is disgusting!"

"And Rhett Butler didn't stop Silvia Dawson when she killed herself. I don't understand this," Mrs Manigault said.

Miss Margaret Elsbrow made the sign of the cross on her chest."I reckon that he had to stop Mrs Silvia Dawson from suicide on the altar," she commented.

"Rhett Butler had to do everything possible and impossible in order not to allow Miss Silvia to do it," Mrs Wondermurt consented, her voice steady and confident.

"But why did she die? Did she take a deathly dose of her poison?" Mrs Russell's voice resonated.

"Do you remember her body near the altar in the Church? She was so pale and the skin from her chin up to her right eye was light blue. What was that?" Mrs Edmondston's eyes went wide.

"I have heard that Mrs Dawson used a very rear Italian poison killing a victim almost immediately," Mrs Bromwell's voice was shaking. "This dark blue spots are from the poison. My husband explained to me that yesterday."

"It is awful!" Mrs Brewton cried out and put her hand on her mouth.

"And Mrs Ornella Simona Albertson had been keeping this dreadful secret many years before they were finally revealed by Silvia," Mrs Davidson said.

Mrs Russell's face perfectly portrayed a feeling of despair. "I could never imagine that such people, the murders by blood, can live in Charleston!"

Mrs Davidson shook her head, as though in disbelief that all that scandal had happened. "We will never receive anyone from the Albertson family again. I mean the whole family. They are very dangerous. We must be careful."

"Darling, of course, we will never even talk to these beasts," Mrs Bromwell declared.

" Rhett Butler had to save Silvia! What a heartless villain he is," Miss Barbara Hampton howled.

"I agree with you, Barbara. But Rhett Butler killed many innocent people, as the rumors say," Mrs Brewton supplemented and sniffed in allergy.

"I have heard the rumor that he killed somebody in Atlanta. Besides, he killed Caroline's brother on the duel after the scandal about that buggy ride twenty five years ago," Mrs Manigault finished her tirade.

"Yes, he is a cold-blooded rascal!" Mrs Davidson screamed.

"At least Rhett Butler isn't a latent murderer like Silvia Dawson," Mrs Wondermurt sighed. "Did you hear that she murdered with the help of her medallion?"

"It is an envenoming medallion! This is so cruel and barbarous!" Mrs Edmondston sniveled. "Oh God!"

"I think that the Albertson is an anathematized family like those of Montecuccoli," Mrs Manigault said.

"I hope that the Albertson family will leave the South," Mrs Bromwell announced.

Mrs Brewton screwed up her face in disgust."We will ignore them completely," she concluded.

"This is the most accurate course of action," Miss Margaret Elsbrow agreed.

"And our dear Mrs Bedrow had been murdered by Silvia Dawson! She is dead because of this woman!" Mrs Bromwell nearly moaned, tears oozing in her eyes. "It is not fair!"

"This is so barbarous… Mrs Bedrow was a great woman, may she rest in peace," Mrs Manigault said.

"And Silvia even poisoned lemonade at the Butler house before the wedding!" Mrs Wondermurt winked in pain. "She wanted to kill Robert Butler, but killed our dear Mrs Bedrow and two darkies."

"God rest to Mrs Bedrow's soul," the ladies exclaimed.

Mrs Bromwell clapped her hands. "She was such a good lady."

Mrs Wondermurt shook her head in agreement. "Mrs Bedrow has always been a great lady."

The truth was that the Albertson family's reputation was ruined, but they were still in a worse situation than the Butler family because at least Butlers didn't kill so many innocent people, while the Albertson family was related to infamous Italian poisoners and were perceived now as latent murderers. The inhabitants hated the poor family so much that city administration banished Silvia's parents to have their daughter buried on the old Charleston cemetery, and they had to go to Savannah to organize the funeral. Silvia's parents considered moving out of Charleston and the whole South for the sake of themselves and their living daughter. Ornella Simona was unable to order the church requiem services in many churches of Charleston because everybody knew this story and many Reverends disallowed the poor woman and politely threw her out of the Church. The same happened with Ornella Simona in many Churches in Savannah. Only one Church accepted the requiem services for _Silvia Ferdinanda Albertson Dawson_.

Gossips reached Atlanta as well. Becoming goddamned city with too much blood and troubles, which in some or other way were related to Rhett and Scarlett's names, the town was blindsided by the recent scandal in Charleston very harshly. The Old Guard was bathing in the ocean of gossips related to Rhett and Scarlett's story. They were pleased that Scarlett was alive, but Rhett Butler's actions which were known to the inhabitants of the city in details thanks to word of mouth, were condemned and declared to be unforgivable and inhuman.

"Christ in Heaven! I am so happy that Scarlett is alive… Poor girl! She had suffered so much in her short life! I am sure that it had been Rhett Butler who had coarsened her many years ago! It is his entire fault," Mrs Elsing admitted.

"Mrs Elsing, I absolutely agree with you. Rhett Butler's behavior is inhuman! He wanted to marry another lady while he proposed Scarlett when she was in Atlanta six months ago," Mrs Merriweather said audaciously. "Scarlett is so strong! She is a survivor! Thanks God that she is alive."

"Rhett Butler is a villain and a scoundrel! It is he, not Scarlett, who is a piece of trash!" Mrs Elsing cried out and blushed from rising anger. "I am sorry for my past accusations of Scarlett."

"Rhett Butler loves Scarlett, and I saw it when he was staying at her bed in her oblivion. Honestly, I don't understand how he could marry another woman when he loves Scarlett so much," Mrs Meade replied. "He had treated her badly in the past when he divorced her and, maybe, it happened again."

"And Rhett Butler intended to marry almost the murderer of his beloved Scarlett and murderer of Belle Watling… rest to her sinful soul… Oh my God… Incredible things…" Mrs Merriweather chuckled. "What a scalawag and trashy man he is! Poor Scarlett… Lord, help her to recover…"

"The scandal is unprecedented! The Robillards are involved!" Mrs Elsing was drawled in a low voice.

"It is so scandalous! Holy Christ, did you hear about envenoming medallion of that lady who died on the altar of the church?" Mrs Merriweather questioned. "This woman, Rhett Butler's fiancée, was a devil!"

Mrs Meade crossed herself in horror. "Bless my heart and soul! Died on the altar of the church?"

"Rhett Butler is associated only with death. He is a cursed man," Mrs Elsing nearly sung.

Mrs Merriweather chuckled. "I have heard that Scarlett had had his children in Europe."

"As far as I understand, it is true," Mrs Meade said.

"Did he divorce her when she was in a family way?" Mrs Merriweather's face went crimson, her breathing accelerated.

"I think so because everybody says this," Mrs Elsing admitted. "What a scalawag and monster he is."

"I won't doubt that this couple will end up together because there is something too much alike in them," Mrs Meade forced a faint smile. "I saw how Rhett Butler was going mad when she was sick. He should feel the same now. No, this man loves her despite all these scandals."

"I don't know but these murders are disastrous! She killed so many people – her former husband, Belle Watling, two people in London, and three people after the wedding at Rhett Butler's house… This is a terror!" Mrs Merriweather exclaimed, her cheeks red in rage and horror.

"I have heard that Rhett Butler's former fiancée tried to kill his son with Belle Watling," Mrs Elsing added and wiped her tears. "Thanks God that the boy is alive."

"Good Lord, this is so cruel-hearted. I could never have imagined something like that even in my wildest nightmares," Mrs Merriweather's hoarse voice was heard.

Annabelle de Robillard sent telegrams to Henry Hamilton and Suellen to let them know that Scarlett was sick in London, but that she was alive. Henry Hamilton, India Wilkes, Beau Wilkes, Suellen O'Hara Benteen and Will Benteen were happy that Scarlett hadn't died. Suellen thanked Heaven for her sister to survive through the atrocious poisoning by blue cooper sulphate and hoped that Rhett and Scarlett would reunite in Europe and would be happy with their children. India and Beau were also very pleased with the news and went to the church to attend a mass for Scarlett. India and Henry Hamilton weren't involved in any rumors and if they were asked, they simply replied that Scarlett had been alive and had been on her way to gradual, slow recovery. They ignored all the questions about the children and the status of any relations between the former spouses - Scarlett and Rhett.

After Henry Hamilton had received the telegram, he visited India Wilkes at Aunt Pitty's house and told India not to intervene and, if asked by gossipers, answer that she didn't know or something alike, although Henry comprehended that the rumors about the paternity of Scarlett's children were most likely truth.

"India, everybody knows that Scarlett helped Ashley's family a lot in the past years. I kindly ask you to disengage yourself from the participation in spreading any rumors about the dreadful situation around Scarlett and Rhett Butler," Henry Hamilton asked in a steady voice.

"Mr Hamilton, you don't need to ask me because I have greatly appreciated Scarlett's help. I will never pay back her with ugly, dishonorable actions," India replied genuinely.

"Thank you, India. It is very wise from your side."

"How is Scarlett, Mr Hamilton?" India's grey eyes revealed anxiety and emotional unrest. Her voice trembled as the words rushed out.

"Her French relative Annabelle de Robillard is in Charleston now, and she sent a telegram to me that Scarlett is in London, but she is very sick," Henry answered, sadness steeling into his voice.

"I hope she will recover soon. What happened is awful. I don't understand how it is possible to murder so many people like that… well… Silvia did," India shook her head.

"As you see, there are such incorrigible murderers," Henry said in a low voice.

"But in Charleston… This is such an unexpected event," India concluded. "Mr Hamilton, don't worry. I won't say any negative or false word in this situation."

"I am glad to hear it, India."

"Beau and I are going to the church this afternoon. We ordered a mass for Scarlett," India added.

"Thank you, India."

During the next days after the bloodshed at the Butler mansion and the wedding cancellation, _Rosemary Geraldine Butler_ was always reserved, disconcerted, embarrassed, and visibly sick of lunatic guilt, tearing her heart apart. She asked Rhett for forgiveness and appealed to the fact that she hadn't known that Silvia Ferdinanda was a latent murderess. However, Rhett's wounded, betrayed heart didn't accept her remorse as now his whole world was silenced for everybody, except for Scarlett and their daughters. Moreover, the fact was the fact – Rosemary had helped Silvia Dawson to drive Scarlett apart from Rhett, and Rhett couldn't forgive Rosemary that. Rosemary felt deeply ashamed and didn't know how she would face Scarlet after what she had done. At least, she tried to persuade Rhett that she had been afraid and embarrassed of meeting Scarlett because of her guilt. She tried to talk to Rhett, but it didn't work for her and didn't improve their relations.

"Rhett, my dear brother, I am so ashamed of what I have done to you. Will you be able to forgive me?" Rosemary's eyes were beaming with unshed tears.

"Rosemary, you betrayed me. You helped Silvia to drive Scarlett apart from me," Rhett snapped carelessly. "You ransacked my private things, while you had no right for it."

"Rhett, I didn't know that Silvia was a murderer! I didn't know," Rosemary pleaded.

"It is not an excuse, Rosemary. You had no right to intrude in my private life and to lie to me in such important things! Who gave you this right?"

"I wanted you to be happy without Scarlett. You were so miserable after you had left her and later had divorced with her, Rhett."

"Now I am less miserable? How do you think?" Rhett taunted her.

"Rhett, I see it now… But I didn't know that the outcome will be so… so unhealthy for the whole family."

"Now the reputation of the family is ruined. I don't care about it personally for myself because I don't plan to live in Charleston permanently, but what about our mother? What about you, Rosemary? Have you thought about it? I highly doubt that you will ever be courted by any Southern gentleman," Rhett declared with a deplorable, yet sardonic smile.

"People will forget it over time. Nobody from our family is a murderer. We all didn't know who Silvia was! We can keep gossip down…" Rosemary insisted.

"How can we do it, Rosemary?" Rhett only laughed in an ugly way.

"We can give more money on charity… talk more to the old matrons and persuade them that we didn't know who Silvia was," she said and lowered her glance in embarrassment.

"Rosemary, you think that my… erm… ill-gotten fortune will help you blanch yourself over, especially after the falsehood of our father's enormous insurance was revealed to the public?"

"Rhett, I understand it... It is so terrible! But anyway we can spend money on charity…"

"My money, Rosemary," Rhett chopped the topic.

"What do you mean, Rhett?" Rosemary's voice revealed her deep emotional tumult.

"I mean that it is my money, and I will decide how to spend it. I won't give to you even a dollar for the charity funds in Charleston."

"Rhett… I… I…"

"What Rhett? What? You betrayed me, and I will never trust you again," he interjected.

"Rhett… What about money?" Rosemary's face depicted concerned expression.

"Don't worry, Rosemary. I will continue to finance your living expenses and your quite expensive lifestyle. As for the money on charity, I will talk to our mother about it, not you. If she asks me, I will give her as much as she needs. I am more than sure that she will do her best to revitalize our reputation."

"Thank you, brother," she answered with apparent relief.

"That's fine, Rosemary. Please, remember that I am in control over the finance in the Butler family."

"Will you be able to forgive me, Rhett? I didn't know that Scarlett's children were yours!"

"It is an ill-founded justification for your actions," he countered.

"Will you ever forgive me, Rhett?" Rosemary repeated.

"Rosemary, you are my sister… And I won't obliterate you entirely from my life, but my trust in you will always be weak. Perhaps, over time… but not I don't know," Rhett answered honestly.

"Do you hate me, brother?" Rosemary continued in nearly prayerful tone.

"You are my sister, and I cannot hate you. I am simply very disappointed. I think that you should think more before you do something," Rhett replied.

"Thank you, Rhett… It is a great relief that you don't hate me."

"Furthermore, don't be a child and learn the lesson from this idiotic situation that you mustn't intrude in other people's personal life. You have to grow up, sister. You helped Silvia to make a laughingstock of me and our family."

"Rhett, I didn't know! I wished you happiness without the woman who, I thought, caused you to suffer so much."

"Rosemary, I have never told you in details about my problems with Scarlett. You had no right to judge Scarlett and do what you did," he attacked her argument.

"Rhett, please…" her voice trailed off. "Will you take me in your upcoming trip to London?"

"No, Rosemary, I have no intention to do it. I know how much you hate Scarlett, and I don't need you there," Rhett replied, extracted the cigar from the silver case and lit it.

"What shall I do, Rhett?" She sounded absentmindedly.

"You will have to continue living in Charleston and will live in the hotel so far, Rosemary."

Rosemary's eyes grew wide. "To stay in the hotel?"

"Yes, in the hotel, or do you want to live in that house after three people were killed there?" Rhett asked nonchalantly, stroking his mustache.

"No, I don't want it, Rhett. I can barely come inside this house again," she shook her head.

"I have already asked my lawyer Mr Edward Devillers to transfer a tidy sum of money on your account. It will be enough to buy the new house somewhere on the East Battery or on the High Battery. We will try to sell the old one."

"Thank you, Rhett."

"I am doing this because I know that our mother will eventually want to return to Charleston," Rhett elucidated and inhaled the smoke of his cigar. "The old house will be sold. Take all the things you need from there and leave them at the hotel."

"How long will you be absent?" Her voice was shaking.

"I don't know, my dear sister. Honestly, I have no intention to come back to the States in the near future. I think I don't need to enumerate my reasons for this decision," Rhett chuckled. He lit another cigar and put it to his mouth, luxuriating in the cigar's smoke.

"I understand," she answered humbly and blushed.

"It is very good, Rosemary," Rhett replied. He leapt to his feet. He abruptly threw the half smoked cigar in the bin and approached the door.

"Will you ever forgive me, brother? I don't know what came over me when I helped Silvia."

"Rosemary, don't waste your time trying to persuade me in your innocence. I told you that I don't hate you. That's enough for now," Rhett closed the topic imperatively and left the room.

Rhett considered leaving the United States for a prolonged period of time. The economic situation in the States favored Rhett's thoughts to spend at least some part of his time in a year outside the country as the business sentiment was very poor.

The first symptoms of the crisis emerged in the railroad sector. A widely-known _Jay Cooke & Company bank_, one of the backbones of the American financial system, and other leading entrepreneurs intended to build the nation's second transcontinental railroad, so-called the Northern Pacific Railway. Much money was necessary to fund this tremendous project. The banks were pursuing every opportunity to raise capital for the ambitious project. In the meantime, the monetary policy of the president, _Ulysses S. Grant_, was aimed at the contraction of the money supply by raising interest rates in the financial market. Such a policy didn't promote the development of the debt markets, and entrepreneurs had a very limited number of instruments to fund their projects, including the projects in the railroads segment. Therefore, while the business was growing fast, the sources of funding this expansion were becoming more and more restrained.

The straightforward result of this situation was that, in September prankish 1873, _Jay Cooke & Company_ had no success in marketing of several million dollars of bonds issuance to finance the building of the Northern Pacific Railway. Because the bank heavily invested in the railroad sector, different reports reflected that Cooke's old credit had become nearly worthless, and as a result the bank filed for bankruptcy on September 18, 1873. As a result, a conspicuous panic started in New York. In a few days this panic triggered other failures of financial institutions both in the North and in the South. Moreover, the New York stock market was closed for ten days in order not to allow speculators to drop the quotes down. However, after the trading session had been opened, stock prices tumbled considerably. Stocks of financial institutions, including banks, suffered a profound dollar loss.

Financial crisis was slowly slipping to industrial crisis, and factories in different states, especially in New York, Chicago, Virginia, Nevada and San Francisco, began to lay off excessive work force. The financial panic led to a severe economic depression in the States, both in the North and in the South. Starting from September 1873, each year the economy was gradually slipping into depression.

Being extremely smart in business and having great business and political connections, Rhett was lucky to sell the majority of his stakes in the banks before September 1873. He still was an active shareholder in some of the banks, including the Atlanta National Bank and the Bank of Charleston, but he sold the shares of the problematic banks and their bonds in time. Rhett didn't lose money as a result of this crash. He didn't plan to sell the stakes in the reliable banks. However, further investments in the economy of the South were proved to be unreliable because the depression left most states deep in debt and burdened with heavy taxes. Amid the economic situation, Rhett didn't intend to invest somewhere in the States and kept the majority of his tremendous wealth in gold in stable English banks.

Rhett chuckled when he remembered his talk to Scarlett at Tara about the money and the banks where she kept her large fortune inherited from Pierre Robillard and her last husband _Marquis Mathieu de Bréval_. Scarlett was also lucky because despite the fact that she moved to France and hence wasn't interested in the situation in the United States in 1873-1875, Heaven helped her not to lose money and keep it in the same banks as Rhett used. Rhett reasoned that she could only lose money if she continued to support Ashley's mills.

Another reason why Rhett wasn't convinced in the possibility of living permanently in the South was the upcoming end of the Reconstruction. The issue was that economic depression caused voters to turn against the Republicans. On the back of the above, in the congressional elections of 1874, the Democrats assumed control of the White House. The North of the States began to stepwise steer away from the Reconstruction. In the South, the Republicans began to lose power in each state, one by one. The time when the gang of elegant thieves, so-called _Carpetbaggers_, was on the throne, was supposed to end soon. In fact, at least some part of Rhett's money was coming from his doubtful past deals with _Carpetbaggers_, and anyway his name was associated with them.

Finally, in 1876 the most scandalous presidential election in the States occurred. The candidate _Samuel J. Tilden _of New York from _the Democrats_ outpolled another candidate - _Rutherford B. Hayes_ of Ohio from the Republicans in the popular vote. It was known that _Samuel J. Tilden_ received 184 electoral votes against _Rutherford B. Hayes's_ 165, with only 20 votes of difference between them. The scandalous part of this election was related to the fact that these 20 electoral votes were in dispute in Florida, Louisiana, and South Carolina, and, of course, each party reported in public that it outpolled the other party in each of these states. A legal and political battle between the Democrats and the Republicans was gaining momentum throughout 1876. It was clear that it was more than likely that either in the end of 1876 or in 1877 at the latest these disputes in the votes would finally be resolved. However, given that the whole South was more than willing to exile the Republicans and _Carpetbaggers_ administration, Rhett concluded that whoever would become the President was not so important because it was more than likely that all the rights in the South would be ceded to the Democrats, whose objective would be to the rapacity and corruption of _Carpetbaggers_ in the South.

What did it mean for Rhett Butler? Given the past associations of Rhett's name with _Carpetbaggers_, the straightforward result for him was that he had to work extremely hard to disassociate his name with the gang of thieves and corruption. In sober fact, he had to do the same work which he once did in Atlanta in 1872-1873, before Bonnie's death – to contribute a plenty of money to support the Democrats and actively participate in political demonstrations and meetings. Rhett had done all this work in the time before _governor_ _Bullock of Georgia_ resigned his office and fled from the state.

Was Rhett ready to do the same now? Was it possible for him to refute his reputation as a scalawag and highlight that he was a proper South gentleman who supports the Democrats and their reforms? For Rhett Butler, the answer was quite simple – even if he steps on this road again, given the scandal that had recently happened around the Butler family, it would be extremely difficult for him, if possible at all, to dissociate his name with the former reign of _Carpetbaggers_. However, if he decided to stay in Charleston or in the South permanently, he had to step on this road. But did he need this? His money was secure in English banks, and the only woman he loved more than himself didn't plan to permanently live in the States. Besides, he felt too old to play in these games again and to become a deadly political chameleon. Rhett thought that the recent scandal even helped him in his final decision not to live in the South for a prolonged period of time.


	51. Chapter 51

**Act III**

**Chapter 51**

**After the awakening: Scarlett's time in London**

In the meantime, in the London Scarlett was feeling better. She spent almost the whole time in her bed, thinking about her life. Her inward musings and sleep were interrupted by the frequent visits of the Scotland Yard experts and the visits of his Grace _Vittorio Amedeo Alberto di Savoia, the Duke of Naples_.

_Philippe Justin Robillard-Arden, 8th Duke of Aylesbury_, and _Jasper Alastair Robillard-Arden, the heir apparent to 8th Duke of Aylesbury and 10th Marquess of Wycombe_, often visited Scarlett. They were very anxious about the progress of her recovery. During one of their visits, they were accompanied by Philippe's daughters Genevieve and Madeleine. Philippe's sons Christopher and Jacob also called on Scarlett a couple of times. Philippe's son Morgan didn't come because he was out of London and traveled in the South of France two months ago and still didn't return to England. Morgan spent much time in France, especially in its southern part, in Toulouse or in Nice.

Scarlett loved when Jasper and Morgan, as well as Genevieve, Christopher, and Madeleine visited her. She especially liked Jasper and Morgan. Perhaps, it was so because she met them on many parties and danced with them on many balls. She also like natural Christopher, even despite his short temper, which was so similar to her own temper, she mused. She liked both Madeleine and Genevieve, who were kind and caring ladies. Scarlett didn't like Jacob's visits because he was very arrogant and she found his words a little insincere. Scarlett always noted how different Aylesbury's children were, with Jasper being his father's absolute young copy and Madeleine having nothing in common with the Robillards in appearance.

Aylesbury's flowers always were white roses, and Scarlett smiled heartily each time when the maid reported the delivery of the new bouquet. Philippe sent her flowers every day after Scarlett had awaken from her oblivion. Jasper always sent her boxes of chocolate. The flowers always were white roses, and Scarlett smiled heartily each time when the maid reported the delivery of the new bouquet. Scarlett wondered why always white roses, and decided to ask the Duke of Aylebsury.

When Scarlett felt much better and Doctor Casimir Broussard allowed her to leave the bed, the Duke of Aylesbury announced that he was urgently going away on the continent for business. On that day the Duke of Aylesbury gave a present to Scarlett – the amazing jewelry set with four components, made up of large high quality oval cut blue sapphires and numerous diamonds. The set consisted of a necklace, a bracelet, a pair of earrings, and a ring.

"Philippe, I love the jewelry set so much!" Scarlett exclaimed as he handed to her the velvet jewel case with the jewelry set. "It is magnificent! It is gorgeous!"

Scarlett especially liked the necklace, which was breathtakingly lovely: it consisted of nine large oval cut blue sapphires of very high quality, each surrounded by two rows of glittering diamonds. The bracelet consisted of three blue sapphires of the same form and size, each also surrounded by two rows of diamonds. Each earring was made up by two large oval cut blue sapphires, surrounded by one row of diamonds. The ring was a cluster type and had a single large oval cut blue sapphire in the centre surrounded by two rows of diamonds. Diamonds in each item were of Peruzzi cut and added much sparkle to the overall design.

The great jewelry set was ideal not only for formal and grand occasions, but was also wonderful for everyday wear, depending on the type of the day dress. During the day, the jewelry set would be perfect to wear with a French Artistic tight dress, usually trimmed with a profusion of laces and ribbons, or a semi-sheer French dress fitted smoothly to the body from the shoulders to the lower hips, stressing the slimness of her figure.

Aylesbury passed to Scarlett the pair of earrings. He took a ring from the jewel case and put it on the index finger of her right hand. The ring fitted Scarlett perfectly well as it was her size. At the same time, Scarlett clasped two earrings.

"Scarlett, I knew that you would be happy to have this jewelry set," the Duke of Aylesbury stated confidently. He smiled heartily. "I wanted to make you happy."

"Your Grace, you are doing wonders," Scarlett grinned and laughed outright.

"Philippe," he amended. "How many more times will I have to amend you?"

"Philippe," she echoed.

"Alright," Aylesbury smiled. "I am sure you will find gorgeous matching evening attire for this set."

Scarlett sent to Aylesbury a grateful look. "Oh, I will."

Aylesbury accurately fastened the bracelet on her right hand. Then he took the necklace. As Scarlett leaned her head down, he clasped the necklace on her neck in a shipshape manner, unfortunately, above her black velvet robe with high collar, but at that moment it just couldn't be otherwise.

Scarlett smiled. "How does it look?"

"Perfect," Aylesbury said with a dazzling smile as his black shining eyes were studying every inch of Scarlett. "I especially like the necklace, which is so wonderful because of two rows of diamonds and because of its versatility."

"I should look pretty even now as this jewelry is simply transcendent!" She laughed self-consciously.

Aylesbury raised a brow. "I told you so," he teased, pressing her arm against his side.

"Philippe, thank you very much!" Scarlett cried out in excitement.

"The set belonged to your mother Ellen Robillard when she was very young," the Duke of Aylesbury confessed, his eyes running up and down Scarlett's body.

Scarlett arched her brows. "How did you manage to find it?"

"There is nothing impossible for the Robillards," Aylesbury teased.

Scarlett stared at him. "Philippe, please tell me."

"Alright. I will tell you," he finally surrendered. "Your grandfather Pierre Robillard intended to sell some of your mother Ellen's jewelry more than fifteen years ago. Pierre knew that he had to sell those pieces of fine jewelry only in Paris where he could get the maximum price at the auction. So he asked his lawyer in Savannah to sell the jewelry through one of Parisian jewelers. This sapphire set among those items."

"Oh!" Scarlett cried out as she was irritated that Pierre had wanted to sell her mother's things.

"This sapphire set is a marvelous work of art. It is unique. As soon as it came to the market in Paris, the jeweler came to Jean-Baptiste and reported that the unique sapphire set, apparently belonging to the Robillards, had been put up for the auction by the American customer. As I was in Paris at that time, Jean-Baptiste asked me to have a look on the jewelry. Finally, Jean-Baptiste and I bought several items."

Scarlett shook her head in disbelief. "I don't understand how my grandfather Pierre could do such an abominable thing."

"It appears Pierre Robillard could do it." Aylesbury smiled heartily at her. In reality, it was a melancholic smile that looked as a warm, happy smile. Aylesbury was too good at hiding his true feelings. In fact, he felt the exact opposite of happiness as the talk was again about Pierre Robillard.

"Oh, Philippe! Thank you very much that you bought the set," Scarlett smiled. As Aylesbury gave her this priceless gift, she was so grateful to him that she could have sunk to her knees and wept with gratitude. "It is a priceless gift for me! It is a fabulous, breathtaking gift!"

"I hope you will treasure this sapphire set." Aylesbury gave a smile to her - not the easy smile of an acquaintance, but a smile of a close, caring friend. He smiled with deep, sincere warmth. "I am sure your mother Ellen loved it."

"I know she did. I absolutely love it!" Scarlett exclaimed. She felt a prickle of excitement even in her fingertips - an echo of the surprise she had experienced as Philippe had given her a magnificent gift. "I will treasure it."

"I am happy to hear it."

"Are you going away again, Philippe?"

"Yes, I am," the Duke of Aylesbury nodded. "As you are feeling better, I have to come back to my business. I am leaving tomorrow in the afternoon."

"Where are you going this time?"

"At first I am going to Paris, then to Toulouse and then to Reims. Probably, I will also visit Egypt," he specified.

"Again Egypt?"

"Yes," Aylesbury confirmed. "There are numerous business opportunities in the Nile Valley and Suez after the Suez Canal was opened in 1869."

"I see."

"Scarlett, Jasper will call on you when I am away. Christopher and Genevieve will also come."

"Have a good trip, Philippe."

"Thank you, Scarlett," Aylesbury replied in a soft voice. "Please, take good care of yourself. I want you to regain your health as early as possible."

Scarlett's green eyes locked with Philippe's black orbs. "I will try," she promised wholeheartedly.

"Try not to think about tragedies and don't torment yourself," he stated earnestly.

"It is difficult," she injected quietly.

The Duke of Aylesbury leaned forward and began to put off her jewelry. As he removed the necklace and the bracelet, Scarlett unclasped and handed to him the pair of earrings and the ring. Carefully and nattily, Aylesbury laid each item back into the jewel case and closed it.

His solicitous gaze fixed at her face. "There is nothing we can change about the past."

A clear trace of bitterness was leaching into Scarlett's voice. "Oh God! I cannot forget!" The green eyes turned sad. Then she threw a quizzical look at him. "Philippe, why are you always sending to me white roses?"

Aylesbury laughed. "It is because I like roses. White color is something innocent, and I see much innocent in you, Scarlett."

She smiled at him. "Oh, Philippe. Thank you very much."

Scarlett looked so innocent - her hair so black, her eyes so green. She was like an archangel. The Duke of Aylesbury was ready to smile at her heartily over and over again. He bent his head and kissed her forehead, gently and lovingly. It was as though she was kissed by her parent. At least, Scarlett had such a feeling.

The he stared at her, his eyes kind as aloofness and indifference were gone. "Promise me to be a good girl and not to torment yourself," Philippe asked softly.

Scarlett inhaled deeply and exhaled. She smiled at him. "I promise." And then he left. She was utterly disappointed with that.

_Vittorio Amedeo Alberto di Savoia, the Duke of Naples_, spent with Scarlett a lot of time, and he visited her every day. He brought for her many presents, usually bonbons and flowers. Usually in the early afternoon the Duke of Naples appeared on the porch of Marguerite's red mansion with two bouquets of flowers – one for Marguerite and one for Scarlett. He spent more than three-five hours per day at the house, including at least two hours in Scarlett's bedchamber, talking about the latest gossips in the aristocratic Europe, mainly France and England, about Naples, the city of his birth, about political and economical situation in the world, about fashion, opera and so on. The Duke of Naples was a highly intelligent and extremely well-educated man. Scarlett felt as though he could give an answer to any question and even guess her thoughts. He asked Scarlett about her past life in the States and about her childhood, and there were days when Scarlett and Vittorio were talking only about red earth and Tara – Scarlett's eternal refuge and childhood home. When Scarlett was tired and asked him to retire, he usually bowed in a deep curtsey and immediately left for his residence in Chelsea. Next day the Duke of Naples again came to her.

Scarlett liked him as a personality, especially now in her state of extreme emotional fragility, endless thoughts about the sins of her past, and Rhett Butler's betrayal. She needed somebody to talk to, and now when Annabelle left God knew there, she had only Marguerite and Vittorio to solace her and prettify her life in her lugubrious, nearly sucking, mournful solitude. Vittorio supported her emotionally as he tried to entertain her in order not to focus on the recent tragedies – Geoffroy and Charles's deaths. If she needed something, Vittorio was the first person who volunteered to help. He always asked his escort people to perform various commissions and instructions for Scarlett, like sending her telegrams to her lawyer in Paris. Vittorio always asked what she wanted to have for a lunch or a dinner today, and he often ordered the finest food for her from the most luxurious restaurants of London to be delivered to Marguerite's house. He always talked to the representatives of Scotland Yard and then reported to Marguerite and Scarlett on the progress in searching of the murderer in details.

The Duke of Naples was the man who found the infamous doctor for the members of the British Parliament in accordance with Annabelle's recommendation – Doctor Casimir Broussard who was a former doctor at _Napoleon III's_ court and who was known to have saved a lot of innocent lives of poisoned people. Vittorio left all his private deals on the night of the poisoning: he and his people delivered unconscious Scarlett and Annabelle to Marguerite de Robillard's house – the Marchmont Hall. Vittorio was reacting very operatively and without excessive hurly-burly. Scarlett had a deep feeling of gratitude to him for all this help.

Vittorio was very attentive to Scarlett's daughters Blanche and Isabelle and called them little angels. As Scarlett was quite weak and it took a little time for her to get tired, she didn't spend much time with her small children on those days. Usually either Vittorio or Marguerite brought the girls from the nursery to Scarlett and handed one of them to her, while another girl was either on Marguerite's or on Vittorio's lap. When Scarlett was sleeping, Vittorio spent time with the girls and played with them. There were days when he read to them their bedtime stories, visibly enjoying it. However, it wasn't fair to say that the children responded to him with reciprocity. Both girls appeared to be on alert with the Duke of Naples: they allowed him to play with them, but they never asked him to stay more and to read the stories to them. They accepted him for granted, but treated him very cautiously, especially contemplative, reserved Isabelle..

Even trustful, frolicsome Blanche, who was so much like Bonnie and swiftly made friends and favorites, appeared to be vigilant with Vittorio. She was watching him and became a taciturn child in his presence. Isabelle was a thoughtful, contemplating child with everybody, but Vittorio had a special influence on her: she became extremely secluded and withdrawn after his visits to the nursery, and she could speak to nobody for several hours. Scarlett saw that, but thought at first that children weren't accustomed to a new person. However, when Marguerite told Scarlett about the same effects on her daughters which Scarlett also observed, she decided to restrain the time that Vittorio spent with them.

However, when once Vittorio reappeared with flowers both for Scarlett and for Marguerite, as well as six new dolls, chocolate bonbons, and a multitude of éclairs for the girls, Blanche capitulated and became much more trustful to Vittorio. Blanche was very delighted to have new toys, and her blue eyes were flashing in joy. In contrast to her sister, Isabelle remained restrained and even didn't accept the dolls: only after Scarlett had asked her to take a gift, the girl agreed and formally thanked Vittorio for the dolls. However, after Vittorio had left, Isabelle refused to play with the dolls and said that's she had had enough dolls and other toys which Scarlett had bought for her. Therefore, the result of Vittorio's efforts was that Blanche had begun to treat him much warmer, while Isabelle remained distrustful and only observed him from beneath her long, black eyelashes. Isabelle didn't want to accept Vittorio.

Soon Vittorio's constant presence at the Marchmont Hall attracted Scarlett and Marguerite's attention. Even Marguerite's son _Patrick Walter Campbell, 8th Earl of Marchmont_, was astonished with the Duke of Naples's constant presence at the house. It was true that Scarlett had liked Vittorio's company, but he was very insistent and at times even annoying. Moreover, Scarlett started to ask herself why Vittorio was calling on her with such urgent regularity. She knew that he had been lusting for her and had made certain hints about her possible visit to Naples, as well as a lot of compliments and gestures of general courtesy. However, he still positioned himself as only a dear friend to both Scarlett and Annabelle.

Once Scarlett asked Vittorio what he wanted from her, and he replied that he was her friend and that he deeply sympathized to her. Scarlett sighed heavily and told him that she was very tired – Vittorio immediately left her bedchamber. Next day he again reappeared with two bouquets of red roses. Marguerite felt a little awkward that he spent time in Scarlett's bedroom, but even she – a middle-aged, relatively conservative lady - said nothing to Scarlett, although at times she waved her head disapprovingly. Lord Marchmont seemed to be more than puzzled.

Scarlett has never been interested in Vittorio's personality more than as a simple acquaintance and a friend with whom she played in poker and whist, danced on balls and routs, as well as met on various art and charity events. At present, she was confused and became interested in Vittorio's biography and personality. Knowing that Marguerite de Robillard was a pure aristocratic lady with a lot of connections in Europe and general knowledge about the nobility of Europe, Scarlett asked her about Vittorio. Marguerite gave her more than blow-by-blow description of his biography.

"Marguerite, do you know his Grace _Duke Vittorio Amedeo Alberto di Savoia __well enough?_" Scarlett asked, her green eyes fixing on Marguerite's face.

Marguerite stared at Scarlett. "I know his biography if you are interested."

Scarlett forced a weak smile. "Would you please tell me more about him?"

Marguerite's sapphire blue eyes turned curious. "If I may ask, darling, why do you want to know about him?"

"It is just that I want to understand what he needs from me."

"Scarlett, I am sorry for telling you this, but I think it is quite apparent." Marguerite blushed.

Scarlett felt a deep trembling spreading through her body. Her mind flashed on the haunting memory of Vittorio's medium brown eyes, always watching her with intensive gaze. "I understand what Vittorio might probably want, but he will never have reciprocal feelings from me," she said carefully.

"I am delighted to hear this because his Grace the Duke of Naples would never marry you," Marguerite supplied as her gaze swept Scarlett's face in search of her reaction.

"Why do you think so?"

"Scarlett, the answer is in his biography. The Duke of Naples has royal blood in his veins, if you remember this."

"I remember," Scarlett confirmed.

"If the Duke of Naples ever marries somebody, his fiancée will be a woman of the old Italian nobility," Marguerite said. "I will tell you what I know about him."

His Grace_ Vittorio Amedeo Alberto di Savoia, the Duke of Naples,_ was the illegitimate son of _Carlo Alberto Amedeo_, _the King of Piedmont-Sardinia _in 1831-1849, while his mother was his father's mistress _Maria Christina, the Duchess of Naples_. Vittorio was born in 1830 in Palermo and later was sent with his governor to Naples where he spent an overwhelming majority of his childhood. When he was thirteen years old, Vittorio left Naples for Geneva where he was educated in the intellectually liberal atmosphere of the city and under the patronizing look of his Swiss, Italian, and German governors. Vittorio completed his education in Paris during the times of _July Monarchy __of 1830-1848 _under _King Louis Philippe I_ from the _Orleans_ branch of _the House of Bourbon_.

His father _Carlo Alberto_ claimed Vittorio as his legitimate son and gave him the title of the Duke of Naples not a long time ago before his abdication in 1849 after his forces had been defeated by the Austrian army. Later _Carlo Alberto _died in exile, and he wasn't followed by Vittorio who supported the abdication of his own father. His father was a fifth-generation descendant of the _House of Savoia_. In 1849, Vittorio's brother _Vittorio Emanuele II_, who was _Carlo Alberto's_ son from the legal marriage, became _the King of Sardinia_ after his father's abdication the throne after the humiliating military defeat by the Austrians at _Novara_. In 1861, Vittorio's brother _Vittorio Emanuele II_ assumed _the title King of Italy_ to become the first king of a united country on the peninsula since the 5th century.

Although officially Vittorio was a recognized blood half-brother of _the King of Italy __Vittorio Emanuele II_, in sober fact he decided nothing and had only his title of the Duke, as well as a lot of money on his bank accounts in gold in English banks, which he inherited from his royal father and later considerably multiplied, making him one of the richest people in Europe. Vittorio didn't participate in _the Wars of Italian Independence_, which were three wars that were fought between various Italian states and the Austrian Empire between 1848 and 1866, which finished with the conquest of the whole Italian Peninsula. The Duke of Naples had always been holding the neutral side, which helped him a great deal during _the Wars of Italian Independence_. During the competition for the throne in the unified Italy, he officially didn't participate, but when the formal unification finally happened, he neither lost his title of the Duke of Naples nor his money. On the contrary, he became much richer and began to lead an idle, sybarite life of a rich Italian aristocrat who officially resided in Naples, but in reality spent much time in Europe as he had been traveling between Paris, London, Geneva, and Rome, and Naples.. After the unification of the country, Vittorio didn't participate in political life and resigned to the reign of his elder half-brother.

Apart from all the relations with the ruling _House of Savoia_, there was another intersection of the nobility, which Vittorio had always boasted in public. His mother was a descendant of _Rodrigo Borgia of Aragon_, the son of _Lucrezia Borgia_ and her second husband _Alfonso of Aragon_, Prince of Salerno and the illegitimate son of _Alfonso II King of Naples_. Ironically, when Vittorio was claimed as a legitimate son by _Carlo Alberto_, he was granted nearly the title of his ancestors who ruled in _the_ _Kingdom of Naples_. Vittorio has always been proud of his relatives' connections with the Borgia noble house and with _the Kingdom of Naples_.

Scarlett sighed as Vittorio was a very noble, very rich man with numerous connections across the whole Europe. Vittorio and Rhett were almost of the same age. He was a very handsome, masculine-built man. His height was enormous: the difference between Vittorio and Rhett's height was approximately one human head. His hair was dark brown and thick. Vittorio's eyes were medium brown, always alert and always snapping fire around him. As many inhabitants of Southern Italy, his skin was naturally swarthy. In contrast to Rhett, Vittorio didn't wear mustache. Yet, in his appearance there was a sort of unobtrusive shadow of Rhett Butler, and maybe that was the reason why Scarlett communicated with him. Somehow, Rhett and Vittorio had something in common in their appearance, but Vittorio was much taller that Rhett was.

Vittorio was well-known as a womanizer and a connoisseur of women's beauty. Although Vittorio has never been married, the rumors were that he had numerous mistresses in Paris, London, Madrid, Geneva, Zurich, Vienna, and Naples. Gossipers were also saying that Vittorio had fathered a lot of illegitimate brats in many countries of Europe. However, he didn't claim any child, so that the beau monde of Europe often questioned who would be the future holder of the title and Vittorio's heir.

Scarlett was always polite with the Duke of Naples and treated him as a friend. In the meantime, she was reserved and was wearing a mask of polite indifference and courtesy with him. She didn't show her true emotions to him and didn't talk to him about her three dead husbands, the divorce in the States, and about her past life. The only fact was that on the art event when Vittorio saw Rhett Butler with Scarlett and later questioned who that gentleman was, Scarlett answered that it was her former husband Rhett with whom she had been divorced for almost three years. No private details of her past life ever tumbled from her lips in Vittorio's presence. The reason was that while Scarlett felt a sense of gratitude to Vittorio, she intuitively kept distant emotionally from him, although she accepted his help as a friend.

The time was passing slowly for Scarlett, but the most important aspect was that she began to feel much better. Doctor Casimir Broussard visited her every day, taking good care of her body, but, unfortunately, not her soul. Scarlett asked the doctor whether she would be able to have more children, and the answer was that it was unlikely that she became completely infertile. The doctor told her that in his practice there were many cases when women with two and even more miscarriages had healthy children, and this fact appeased Scarlett. The old man even revealed to Scarlett the story about Annabelle de Robillard's two miscarriages in her early youth when she had just joined _Napoleon III's_ court, underscoring the fact that after these events Annabelle hadn't become barren. Scarlett didn't know such intimate details of Annabelle's life story and was caught off-balance because of that news.

Doctor Broussard warned Scarlett against trying to have more children in the coming months until she was completely healthy. He also recommended using black cohosh, like she had before as pregnancy prevention. The doctor also stated that it wasn't allowed to use the herb for longer than six months in a row, and so that Scarlett had to consult with the doctor again in the future. In the meantime, Scarlett wasn't worried about this aspect because she didn't intent to have intimacy with a man in the foreseeable future – her relations with Rhett were still uncertain and she didn't have lovers.

Scarlett was pleased when Doctor Broussard gave her two flacons with blue cooper sulphate and _Cantarella_ - the Medici and the Borgia's poisons. He insisted that she took them on everyday basis as a preventive measure in order to become immune to them. The doctor commanded to start taking the poisons immediately, despite the fact that Scarlett was still supposed to have some antidote pills for the next weeks. The dose was supposed to be very small – one milligram of each poison by rotating the poisons in application day by day. Scarlett calmed down because at least in one aspect she could protect herself in advance – soon the possibility of her being dead in the aftermath of the poisoning will become negligible.

Scarlett was living in her own reality of thoughts and life contemplation, being isolated from the outside world. However, one day unpleasant reality again invaded in her life. On that day Scarlett was sitting in her enormous bed in the large bedchamber and was observing through the window the grey clouds and imminent rain in a cold July day. She was lost in her thoughts about what to do next. Scarlett has just opened the letter from her aunts Eulalie and Pauline Robillard, in which they narrated the story about the recent scandal around Silvia and Rhett's wedding. Now Scarlett was informed that Silvia died on the altar of the church on the day of her wedding with Rhett Butler who again proclaimed his undying love for Scarlett in London and who later ran away from her right to Silvia. She also learnt that it was Annabelle who stopped that absurd, formidable wedding.

Scarlett was in horror and grief-stricken because of what she learnt about Rhett. It appeared that Rhett acted in accordance with her worst case scenarios created in her brain several days ago. She couldn't understand how Rhett could marry Silvia Dawson when he knew that Scarlett was dead. Apparently, he wasn't in mourning for her. She presupposed that Rhett intended to proceed to this suicide-like marriage under his family's pressure when he was drunk in stupor in order to dull his pain. Or, perhaps, Rhett hated her so much that he wanted to hurt her spirit for anger, heartbreak and pain, which filled his heart during the years of their loveless marriage, destroying it day-by-day. Maybe, Rhett wanted to take revenge as he no longer could suppress his pain and rampage after years of holding back his tongue and being treated like a stranger and paying customer when she used him only to pay bills. Her memory replayed their last conversation in Charleston when he kicked her away from his house and his proclamations of considering her dead for him. _"Out of it all I find only two things that remain and they are the two things you hate the most - pity and an odd feeling of kindness…" _was what Rhett said to her when he left her in Atlanta around three years ago. No, Rhett didn't love her. He lied to her in order to seduce and use her as a whore, when in reality he felt to her only disdain, pity, and kindness.

"No, Rhett, you don't love me. I am so sorry for all my failings in our marriage. I am truly sorry for never being a good wife to you." Tears formed slowly and threatened to tumble from Scarlett's befogged emerald eyes. "I was punished enough by God. I lost three children. Why does God punish me so severely?"

Now Scarlett knew that Rhett was on his way to London with Annabelle, but she wasn't ready to face him immediately. She thought that he wanted to take her children away from her and that he was coming because of the daughters, but not because of her. The mess of her contradictory emotions and feelings prevented her from having a frank conversation with Rhett. A twinge of regret transfixed her heart as Scarlett didn't know what to do with Rhett, whom she truly loved and hated, was afraid of and longed for. They both were emotionally dead after Bonnie and Melanie's deaths, but little had they known that in several years much more pain would crush the darkest shadow on their relations. Now Scarlett was unable to think and plan. Truth to be said, she considered leaving London for Paris and later for Vienna to find _François Maximilien Xavier de Montmorin, 9th Marquis de Saint-Hérem_, in order to help her dearest friend Annabelle and make a surprise for her. She loved Annabelle so much.

Dear God, how she loved Rhett, but he wasn't there with her. Now Scarlett was fain only to seek forgetfulness at least just for an instance. Among the myriad events of her life, her love for Rhett was the brightest and the most painful. It was all compelling and all enveloping love, which for a brief space dwelt within her wounded heart. Then mighty flame and fire came, scorching and bright, but later it quenched, leaving her spirit empty and yearning. However, somehow she felt that her life wasn't completely broken. Was there some hope left for her? Will she find enough strength to rise from ashes to stars? Somehow she foreboded that she would.

"Damn you, Rhett Butler! Damn you! Great balls of fire… I won't let you break me," she pronounced loudly for herself, while hot tears spilled over and were steadily streaming down her cheeks. "Enough blood between us! Go to hell with your cold uncaring attitude, your kindness, and pity! Damn you!"

"Scarlett, darling, please calm down," Vittorio, the Duke of Naples, began as he suddenly entered the room, as though on his tiptoes.

"Oh!" Scarlett exclaimed. "I didn't see that you came inside the room, your Grace."

"Vittorio is better, less formal," he said. "I knocked at the door three times, but you didn't answer. I am sorry for disturbing you."

"Of course, I am just… I don't know."

"You are driving yourself to the edge of emotional collapse," Vittorio said sorrowfully.

"Vittorio, you have nothing to feel sorry for. I do apologize for my hysteria… I don't know what came over me."

"I won't ask you, but if you need a good ear, I am at your disposal," the Duke began and winked at Scarlett. "Calm down, darling Scarlett. You are just in the whirlwind of your emotions from all these terrible tragedies. But you look better emotionally alive than with this lifeless mask of icy queen on your face."

"Thank you, Vittorio. I want to leave London as soon as possible… in a week… I must escape from London." Scarlett's tears were drying gradually, but her face flushed.

"You are still very weak, Scarlett. But if you need, I may help you. I have a bunch of escort people here who may accompany you," the Duke of Naples said cryptically and smiled wistfully. "I may also accompany you. Where are you heading?"

"Paris and then Vienna," Scarlett rumbled, wiping tears away by Rhett's old handkerchief.

Mentally, Scarlett was making a martyr of herself. Scarlett decided that she was punished so harshly for all her past transgressions, wrongdoings, and faults, including excessive greediness and lust for money; her undeniable self-absorption and extreme selfishness; infatuation with Ashley Wilkes, who was her friend's husband, and imaginary adultery with Ashley in her three out of four marriages; Frank and Charles's deprivation of happiness, home comfort, and blood children; awfully contemptuous, disdainful, indifferent treatment of Rhett throughout their marriage and heart wounds she caused to him; Frank Kennedy's expropriation from Suellen's caring hands by deception in order to pay taxes for Tara; ignorance of true motherhood when Bonnie was alive; Rhett's deception relative to Blanche and Isabelle's real fatherhood; her desire to take sweet revenge on Rhett for humiliation, divorce, and disgrace; breach of her promise to _Marquis Mathieu de Bréval_ to raise his son. Scarlett's mind was spinning across the endless number of improper things she had done in the past years.

Scarlett witnessed and recognized a lot of her mistakes, but, unfortunately, she was too tired physically and drained emotionally as a consequence of the recent tragedies. She knew nothing. Maybe, even being muffled in innocent blood, pain, mortification, heartache, and distrust, their love can arise from the ashes to the bright starts in the sky? However, to achieve this, both of them should change and be ready to sacrifice their own interests for the sake of each other. Scarlett doubted that Rhett would be able to do it and meet her halfway. Even if he proposed to do it, she didn't trust him. Scarlett reasoned that she would try to become friends with him on the initial stage, like it was in the time of the war in the South. In her reasoning, friendship could bring trust and erase pain, disappointment, and mortification from their relations over time. She considered nonsensical immediately marrying Rhett or starting their relationship from physical relationships.

"Rhett, can we rise from the ashes? Can we go by steep and toilsome ways to the stars?" Scarlett questioned mentally. "My heart and soul are crippled by numerous deep scars… They are bleeding… There is so much pain in my heart… Will I find strengths to ever believe you?"

Their love was ruined, smashed to pieces, and was lying in ashes, and, perhaps, it was better not to aggregate these small fragments together. She didn't know. Maybe, their love is a punishment for their past sins and wrongdoings? Maybe, it is just an illusion of love and not pure, crystal love. Perhaps, they should never be together and live happily in peace? Should she resign to her fate to never be married again and live without Rhett? Undoubtedly, Scarlett will tell him about children if Annabelle hadn't done it yet, but she didn't have a clear opinion on what to do with Rhett. Scarlett wasn't sure that they had recompensed for their sins completely and whether long-awaited atonement and redemption of their misdeeds and transgressions would ever happen.

As Scarlett stated that she planned to leave London for Paris soon, Marguerite tried to counter her.

"Scarlett, darling, are you sure that you need to leave for Paris today?" Marguerite was concerned for Scarlett's health.

Scarlett shrugged. "Marguerite, I am perfectly fine! Don't worry about m."

"Why can't you wait for Annabelle? She will be there in a few days?"

"God's nightgown, please, look at me. I can walk and eat like a horse. I am still pale and feel some weakness in my body, but I need to travel urgently. It is very urgent," appeasements plunged from Scarlett's lips. "I am not going to die. I am not going to break."

"I know, Scarlett. But maybe you will have a rest for at least one more week here. And Annabelle…"

"Marguerite, don't worry. Brace your energy as Annabelle is coming soon. I will write a letter for her," Scarlett sprang to her feet from the sofa and hugged Marguerite. "I will not take her son René with me, but I will take my daughters."

"Good, Scarlett. But please, be very careful and try to have plenty of rest. Don't forget to have the pills the doctor recommended. You should do it at least for two more months until you have regained your usual weight," Marguerite looked in Scarlett's emerald eyes that were now glittering brightly.

"I promise that I will be careful and follow all of Doctor Broussard's recommendations. I need to travel very urgently. I swear that it is not an indolent trip," Scarlett calmly said with a gentle smile.

"Oh, Scarlett! Nothing can stop you if you want something."

"Nothing," Scarlett echoed and let out a laugh.

"There is so much lust for life, energy, and vivacity in you, which, coupled with your stubbornness, leave no room for arguments if you have made up your mind." Marguerite sighed heavily and turned to face Scarlett.

"My darling, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for what you have done for me when I was sick. Please, take care of René till the time Annabelle comes to London," Scarlett answered.

"You don't need to thank me, darling. I love you so much, you know."

"I love you too, Marguerite."

"Please, don't forget that you need more rest and good nourishment until your full recovery," Marguerite addressed to Scarlett.

"I promise that I will take care of myself." Scarlett embraced Marguerite again with gentle gratitude.

After Marguerite left the room, Scarlett's thoughts went back to what she planned to do. Her plan was to bypass Paris and go straight to Vienna to find where _Marquis_ _François de Saint-Hérem _had been. Scarlett decided to take a lead in this risky adventure because now she knew for sure that François was alive. However, his after-war biography was unknown to both Scarlett and Annabelle. On a subconscious level, Scarlett was frightened that François was married and had children, which would undoubtedly restrain him from coming back to Annabelle. Yes, François didn't know that he had a son with Annabelle, but why didn't he send her a note if he was alive? Did he stop loving Annabelle because she didn't confess to him her love in time? These questions were the ones Scarlett was going to have answers for. Yes, she decided to head for Vienna and to postpone her meeting with Rhett Butler as she wasn't ready for this now. She decided that Rhett would wait.

After Marguerite left the room, Scarlett's thoughts went back to what she planned to do. Her plan was to bypass Paris and go straight to Vienna to find where _Marquis_ _François de Saint-Hérem _had been. Scarlett decided to take a lead in this risky adventure because now she knew for sure that François was alive. However, his after-war biography was unknown to both Scarlett and Annabelle. On a subconscious level, Scarlett was frightened that François was married and had children, which would undoubtedly restrain him from coming back to Annabelle. Yes, François didn't know that he had a son with Annabelle, but why didn't he send her a note if he was alive? Did he stop loving Annabelle because she didn't confess to him her love in time? These questions were the ones Scarlett was going to have answers for. Yes, she decided to head for Vienna and to postpone her meeting with Rhett Butler as she wasn't ready for this now. She decided that Rhett would wait.

* * *

_Act III began. It is a contemplative act where both Scarlett and Rhett are maturing and learning lessons._

_I hope you like this chapter._

_Reviews are appreciated. Thank you._


	52. Chapter 52

**Chapter 52**

**Leaving Charleston for London**

In Charleston harbor, Rhett, Robert, Eleanor, and Annabelle were boarding the ship to England. Rhett decided to take in their trip his mother Eleanor to see her grandchildren. Despite being crushed by the scandal and destroyed reputation of the Butler family, Eleanor was truly happy that she had two more grandchildren and tried to support Rhett in the ordeal she indirectly helped to cause by insisting on his marriage with Silvia Dawson. Rhett didn't want to leave his son Robert alone after what the boy had to live through, including his mother's death, scandal around Rhett's marriage to Silvia, and abandonment by Rhett in his drunken abyss and former mourning for Scarlett.

In the evening after their departure, they were sitting in the restaurant and having dinner. The members of the Butler family were tongue-tied and lonesome in the aftermath of the tragedies and flagrant scandal. Rhett was very reserved. Eleanor was also in great distress. The silence during the dinner was broken by Eleanor Butler.

"Rhett, Rosemary will be staying in the hotel till she buys the new house on the money you transferred to her," Eleanor began.

"I am fine with it, mother. Of course, you can no longer live in that house," Rhett snapped.

"Rhett, darling, I know that this time is very tragic for us, but I need to touch this topic. The scandal ruined our reputation. We should think how to revitalize it," Eleanor stated confidently, draining her wine from the glass. "In the first place, it is necessary for your children."

"Mother, I am sorry but I have more important things on my mind," Rhett cut her off sharply and continued, sipping his wine.

"Son, I understand that you think about your relations with Scarlett and the children, well… but the events in Charleston affected us very seriously," Eleanor replied.

"I would rather say that these events have reverberated on us monstrously. Mother, I want to forget Charleston," Rhett raised his voice, his face screwed up. He was ready to stand up and leave the dinner table, but Eleanor gently gripped his forearm.

"Rhett, son, I am so sorry…" Eleanor murmured and looked at him, unshed tears in her eyes.

Rhett settled back in the chair and sipped more wine. He stroked his black small mustache and sighed. "That's fine, mother. As for gossipmongers of Charleston and the whole South, you know that even if retelling true facts, like in our case, counts as sinful, as it demeans the dignity of a newsmonger."

"Rhett, I know what you mean, but think about Rosemary and me. The scandal ruined us," Eleanor began. She sighed heavily. "Also, I am sick of guilt for my past actions. I pressured you to marry Silvia, Rhett. Yes, it was me who pressured you the most. Forgive me, son. I thought that she would make your happy because Silvia seemed to love you. I wanted you to have a fresh start. I didn't know, son. The great guilt for this scandal lies on my shoulders."

"Mother, you don't have to ask for forgiveness. I love you very much, and I understand that you couldn't fantasize such a terrible outcome. Nobody knew that Silvia had been a latent murderer," Rhett claimed confidently.

Eleanor shook her head. "I shouldn't have pushed you to Silvia when you loved Scarlett."

"Even Rosemary didn't know the bitter truth. It will be difficult for me to forgive Rosemary, mother. I don't trust her and will never trust again," Rhett answered crisply. Rhett didn't want to blame his mother, although in his heart he was irritated and angry at her excessively absurd care for responsibility. He decided not to express his anger at her because she was his mother in the first place and he loved and worshiped her.

"I know son. Rosemary lied to all of us. I don't know how I could have raised such a mendacious daughter. But she is my daughter and your sister," Eleanor Butler sniffled.

"Mother, I agree. Please, try not to bother yourself once again. Regarding gossips… So, think of them as of a lighthearted way of spreading information," Rhett tried to allay his mother.

"Son, it is not easy, you know," Eleanor complained.

"I know, mother. Please, try to relax and take it easy. Also, I am not sure that Scarlett would love to return to Charleston with our daughters. She seems to love living in Europe," Rhett said. He poured out a small glass of French cognac for him.

Although Rhett knew that the reputation of the Butler family was ruined, he had more urgent things on the agenda to take care of. After all, he was fed up with Charleston's laidback, boring life. He didn't want to live in Charleston any longer. He couldn't pretend that he was a proper Southern gentleman of Charleston. He wasn't sure that this city was good for his son Robert and all the more for Scarlett who hated Charleston wholeheartedly. In general, Rhett didn't mind to migrate from the States to Europe to the old cities, but he still needed to spend some time in the States on some business purposes.

"That's correct, Rhett. Scarlett doesn't have any plans to settle down in the States permanently. We were talking about possibly moving out of France due to the uncertainty with the new government of the Opportunistic Republicans as they want to deprive aristocrats of many existing privileges. How I hate these Republicans! But I hate socialists much more! If I could do it, I would restore the Bourbon's reign," explanations tumbled from Annabelle's lips. Then her thoughts went back to Scarlett. "But never had Scarlett thought about coming back to the States soon. Of course, she will come there to visit Tara and her relatives, our Aunts in Charleston, and Suellen… and the cemetery in Atlanta…"

Rhett stared at Annabelle. "Do you want the restoration of monarchy?"

Annabelle shrugged uncertainly. "It would be better for France and for us."

"Whom do you mean by us?" Rhett asked.

"Almost everybody in the French highs society, especially old aristocrats," she shot back.

"I thought you had meant only the Robillards and yourself," Rhett parried.

Annabelle's grey eyes locked with Rhett's black orbs. "Rhett, did you visit Paris in 1870 or 1871?"

He shook his head in negative answer. "No."

"Then you don't know how much blood was spilled there." Annabelle put a piece of white meat into her mouth. Then she sipped wine.

Rhett again shrugged. "I can only imagine."

"I was there and I know what happened," Annabelle stated in a steady voice.

"It was awful, wasn't it?" Eleanor Butler inquired.

"It was worse than simply awful, Miss Eleanor. It was a damned time. It was a bloody time. It was the most terrible time Paris had seen in the last thirty years." Annabelle trembled as memories replayed in her mind. She shut her eyes to hide her vulnerability. Silently, she took a wineglass from the table and sipped wine as it helped her gather her strengths. "_Napoleon III_ eventually paid a high price for his failure to defend Austria from Prussia. France was defeated in the Franco-Prussian War of 1870-1871. It was the end of _the Second French Empire._"

"Were the Germans in Paris?" Rhett questioned.

"Yes," Annabelle confirmed in a cool voice. "As a result, at first the Germans entered Paris briefly, but soon they left without any incident. Paris was in a state of high political excitement and absolute disorder. The city was ruled by _the Paris Commune_, which was the result of an uprising in Paris after France had been defeated in the war with the Germans. Being a local authority in its true sense, the Commune briefly ruled Paris from March 1871 till the end of May 1871. The Communal Council included a high proportion of reformist Republicans, various types of Socialists, and even the Jacobins who tended to look back nostalgically to _the First French Revolution_ of 1789. In the beginning, there was no blood, and then the split between the Anarchists and the Marxists took place. As a result, the Commune's activities were rather questionable, its decrees – controversial. The Commune transformed National Guard troops into a defense force. At the same time, the government forces were constantly increasing in number, and soon Versaillese troops began to conquest of the city. Finally, _the Bloody Week_ came. The end was relentless."

Rhett raised his eyebrows. "_The Bloody Week_?"

"Yes," Annabelle nodded.

Robert frowned. "_The Bloody Week_ sounds tragic."

"It was very tragic," Annabelle remarked. "So much blood was spilled."

"Christ in Heaven! Was it a revolution?" Eleanor asked as she sipped wine. She was eating white meat and was apparently enjoying it.

"Something like the revolution," Annabelle said. She put a piece of potato in her mouth. "So _the Bloody Week_ came. There were many barricades in the city, both in the center and in the suburb. The toughest resistance occurred in the more working-class districts of the east of Paris. That fighting continued during the whole week. It was a vicious street fighting, which became known as _La Semaine Sanglante_ – _the Bloody Week_," she paused and sighed. "In the end of _the Bloody Week_, thousands of people were accused. Some participants of the Commune were shot against at _Père Lachaise Cemetery_. Thousands of people were thousands shot in the streets. The most notorious sites of slaughter were _the Luxembourg Gardens_ and _the Lobau Barracks_, behind _the_ _Hôtel de Ville_. Thousands of people were marched to Versailles for trials. Many days passed, and each day endless columns of men, women and children were marching the Parisian streets under military escort to temporary prison quarters in Versailles."

Rhett finished his wineglass. His eyes flew all the way open. He straightened his spine. "I have heard that there were many reprisals even during the time of _the Paris Commune_ and not only in the end during _the Bloody Week_." His voice was sodden with genuine concern.

"You are right, Rhett," Annabelle continued. "The veteran leader of revolutionary socialists, _Louis Auguste Blanqui _began colossal reprisals in Paris. Having opposed the activities of _the Paris Commune_ in any way - in fact or imaginary, directly or indirectly - was a political crime. If somebody had opposed the Commune or if any shadow of somebody's relations with the government forces, headed by the Monarchist _Marshal Patrice de Mac-Mahon_, was discovered, that person were accused and arrested. A number of the malcontent people were rising tremendously. Many people were imprisoned in the Conciergerie, the Temple, and the Sainte-Pélagie. The Conciergerie was the worst place. I was there."

Rhett's eyes grew wide. "You were imprisoned in the Conciergerie?" His face revealed utter shock.

"God Almighty!" Eleanor exclaimed.

"Holy Christ! Annabelle, tell me how it happened," Rhett demanded. His voice hardened. "Holy mackerel!"

Eleanor sent a disapproving glance to Rhett. "Rhett, please watch your language! Robert is here."

Annabelle risked a sideway glance in Rhett's direction. Grey eyes locked with black. "I was imprisoned, like several other Robillards, including my second uncle Adrien and my aunt-cousin Diane with her daughters Valerie and Lucie; my second uncle Philippe, the son of Jean-Baptiste's brother Jules de Robillard; my second cousin and Adrien's son Augustin; my second cousins Geoffroy and Armand, as well as their sister Catherine; and my second cousin Alexandrine, the granddaughter of Jean-Baptiste's brother Gaspard and Geoffroy, Armand, and Catherine's cousin. We were arrested and imprisoned in the Conciergerie, the worst prison among the others. My father Vincent's second cousin Felix and my great-uncle Gaspard, Jean-Baptiste's brother, were also imprisoned, but they were put in the Temple. At that time, many aristocrats and rich _bourgeoisie_ were arrested because most of them didn't approve and opposed the Commune's activities. Thus, many of them were arrested. It was a sort of a preventive measure for the leaders of _the Paris Commune_."

Robert was puzzled. "A preventive measure?" Then the boy sipped lemonade. He was done with the meal.

"As a preventive measure in order not to admit spreading of malcontent thoughts and ideas and further rebellion and opposition," Annabelle clarified.

"How was it possible?" Robert's brain couldn't digest how nobles could have been arrested.

"My dear boy," Annabelle said in a soft voice. "You think that aristocrats cannot be arrested?" She cast an ambiguous glance at Robert and smiled vaguely. "I see that you think so. Contrary to your expectations, Robert, reality is usually different. Aristocracy is always the first social class to be treated as being responsible for all the problems of the society, even if these problems are systematic and have their roots in the distant past. Often nobles are accused, arrested, imprisoned, and then either shot or sent to guillotine. During _the First French Revolution _of 1879_,_ so many innocent Robillards were sent to guillotine by Robespierre. So many aristocrats were beheaded! Nearly the same happened in 1871."

Rhett wanted to hear more. "Pray continue, Annabelle."

"Any suspicion that you had opposed the Commune resulted in arrest and judicial trial," Annabelle continued. She nipped her bottom lip with her teeth. "The leaders of _the Paris Commune_ ordered to arrest people even if they had once appeared on the street in the company of the notorious Monarchists. If somebody had friends among the Monarchists and supported the government forces, such a person could have been arrested. That was our case. My late husband _Emmanuel Alexandre Augustin de Fleuriau, 14th Count de Morville_, had criticized the politics and the decrees issued by _the Paris Commune_ in his public speech on the street near _Opéra Garnier_, almost in the center of Paris. Pursued by the police, he had run away after that speech. As a result, they ordered to arrest Emmanuel and me. I was arrested, Emmanuel wasn't. He fled Paris in time and spent several months at his chateau in Provence, while I was in the Conciergerie."

"An excellent husband," Rhett jeered with dark irony. His black eyes were sad. Eleanor chocked on Annabelle's words about her husband, but abstained from any comments. Rhett poured to himself another wineglass and took a large gulp.

"Well, it is a sad story," Annabelle continued. She chafed her hands together. "In 1871, I had to spend several months in _Abbaye de Saint-Denis_ when my son Rene was born."

Rhett interrupted her. "You have a son, don't you?"

Annabelle met his quizzical look. "I have a son. You will see Rene in London."

"Alright," Rhett said calmly.

_"_Thus, I didn't see my husband Emmanuel for many months," Annabelle resumed talking. She forced herself to swallow that bitter swirl of emotion. She raised her chin and looked around. "When I came back to Paris, Emmanuel had already fled the city. Soon I was imprisoned. The police came to my house and arrested me. My second cousins Geoffroy and Armand were arrested because they had publicly criticized the Commune in very harsh, vituperative words. Their sister Catherine was arrested only because she had witnessed that public disgrace of the Commune by Geoffroy and Armand and because she was their sister," Annabelle paused. She looked away. "My great-uncle Gaspard had anathematized the leaders of the Commune in public, at the card-table during the party at _Duke d'Estissac's_ mansion, and his foes reported the authorities about the case. Perhaps, my great-uncle Gaspard's friends betrayed him – nobody knows. My second uncle Adrien was arrested because he had blasphemed the Commune in rather opprobrious language when somebody had heard it and had reported the relevant authorities. Others were arrested because they had publicly supported the Monarchists and _Marshal Patrice de Mac-Mahon_. All of us were arrested in the same time - in late February 1871."

"And what happened later?" Eleanor glared at Annabelle in impatience.

"Well, this is the most difficult part," Annabelle confided. Her own voice sent a pulse of pain through her head. "We spent several months at the Conciergerie. It was awful! I will never forget that experience! Then those who were imprisoned in the Conciergerie, including myself, were sentenced to death. More accurately speaking, we were sentenced to the execution by beheading through guillotine."

"God God!" Eleanor Butler groaned. She blanched.

"Miss Eleanor, I can stop talking if it is what you need," Annabelle suggested. "I don't want you to faint."

"Annabelle, I am fine," Eleanor answered. "The story is simply so sensuous and emotional. Please continue."

"If it is that you wish." Annabelle shrugged dubiously. As Rhett emboldened her with his gaze, she went on. "They were going to have those imprisoned in the Conciergerie guillotined. Those imprisoned in the Temple were sentenced to the execution by firing squad."

"Oh my Lord!" Eleanor put a right hand on her mouth. She blanched even more.

Robert gave his head a little jerk. "Gracious Heavens!" A shock went through him at all that implied.

"That is outrageous!" Rhett rubbed his head and looked up at Annabelle. "My head is pounding too much to consider it."

"How did you survive?" Eleanor asked numbly.

"Jean-Baptiste and Jules helped us," Annabelle replied.

"Who are Jean-Baptiste and Jules?" Rhett asked.

"_Jean-Baptiste Edmond Alexandre de Robillard, 13th Count de Bréveaux _and his younger brother_ Jules Augustin Victor de Robillard-Bréveaux de Cahideuc, 8th Marquis du Bois de La Motte_," Annabelle drawled his long name as though she had introduced the Count to Rhett. She was looking off into the distance as she spoke. "Jean-Baptiste is the eldest from the Robillard-Bréveaux noble house in France. He is Pierre Robillard's cousin. You should know Pierre," she paused. Rhett and Eleanor nodded. She swallowed hard. "_Philippe Justin Robillard-Arden, 8th Duke of Aylesbury_, had also done a lot to save us. Aylesbury is a rich English aristocrat, one of the most powerful noblemen in Great Britain. He has numerous connections in France, including those with the government. The Duke of Aylesbury's mother Constance was the blood sister of Scarlett's grandfather Pierre Robillard." She paused again. It was a short pause. "Jean-Baptiste de Robillard, Jules de Robillard, and Philippe Robillard-Arden are powerful men, so that their connections saved us. Jules de Robillard was one of Napoleon III's ministers, and his connections also helped, despite the fact that in the times of the Paris Commune Napoleon III's government was dissolved and former ministers didn't have their power."

"I know the Robillard-Arden family. I have heard a lot about them when I was in England. I think I have even seen the Duke of Aylesbury. But I have been told that Aylesbury had spent many years in Asia and was often out of England," Rhett said.

Annabelle smiled. "You are right, Rhett. The Duke of Aylesbury is a special ambassador of the British Crown in British India. He is not a usual ambassador, but a special one who participates in the life of the region on the exclusive purposes. However, I would say, he spent around eight-ten years in British India, often travelling back to England."

Eleanor Butler sighed. "Thank God that these people saved you and other Robillards."

"Not everybody was saved," Annabelle added sorrowfully. "Jean-Baptiste's son and my second uncle Adrien - _Adrien Jacques Alexandre__ de Robillard de Bréveaux, 15th Viscount de Saint-Ouen_ – was executed. Adrien was guillotined in the end of May 1871. I witnessed how Adrien had been beheaded. I will never forget that atrocious, murderous moment."

"Oh my God!" Eleanor lamented. She shut her eyes.

Annabelle shut her grey eyes. "_Count Jean-Baptiste de Bréveaux_ and the Duke of Aylesbury could make nothing to save Adrien. He was so handsome and so vivacious. In 1871, Adrien was fifty years old. Jean-Baptiste was crushed by his son's tragic death. As the prison is located near _Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris_, a muffled, doleful peal of bells was being heard during the execution…" She trailed off and swallowed. Her heart stopped for a second. She could barely hear the frightened beat of her own heart.

"Jesus Christ!" Rhett frowned and then pushed back in his chair. "God rest your second uncle Adrien's soul."

Annabelle's heart skipped a beat. Her lips pressed together, she said: "I loved Adrien dearly. I usually called him Uncle Adrien, despite our more distant relationship. He was such a good man. He also loved me. At times, Uncle Adrien treated me much better than my own father Vincent."

"This is a hair-rising tragedy." Eleanor let out a long breath. "I am so sorry for the loss of your Uncle Adrien."

"Thank you for kind words," Annabelle said, her voice sounded far away. She looked away. "In addition, Felix - _Felix Jean Olivier de Robillard de Bréveaux_– was shot in the Temple. Jean-Baptiste and Aylesbury couldn't have saved him, while they save my great-uncle Gaspard. Other Robillards were saved and eventually released from the prison in June 1871. When I returned home, my husband Emmanuel had already returned from Provence."

"I am so sorry," Eleanor remarked, her blue eyes full of pain and sympathy.

"It is terrible. Those involved in the reprises must be sentenced to death. Guillotine is waiting for these murderers," Rhett's back eyes were shooting daggers. _"Quiconque se sert de l'épée périra par l'épée (he who lives by the sword shall die by the sword)_."

A toneless, sullen smile slipped across Annabelle's face. She sipped some wine. "I absolutely agree."

"And so do I," Robert said as he finished his glass of lemonade.

"Oh, it is so cruel." Eleanor frowned dubiously at that. "Undoubtedly, the initiators of reprises must be punished."

"That's why I hate the Republicans and the Socialists," Annabelle explained. "Now you must understand me."

"As far as I know, the descendants of _King Charles X,_who ruled France in the period of _the Second Restoration _of 1824-1830, are still alive. _Charles X_ was the leader of the ultra-royalists if I am not mistaken," Rhett smirked and lit a cigar. "_The Bourbon Restoration_ is still possible. We are also likely to have _Napoleon III's_ descendants on the throne."

"Indeed, _King Charles X's_ descendants are alive. _Napoleon III's_ only son is also alive, living with his mother Eugene in exile in England." Annabelle's voice was gritty. She stared at him. Her heart was beating hard, half fear, half astonishment. "Rhett, you are well-informed about the history of France."

"Annabelle, I understand why you hate the Republicans. However, if you want the third restoration of monarchy instead of _the Third Republic of France_, then don't forget that the downfall of the second Restoration was caused by economic depression and a rising poverty among the peasants everywhere in France. Of course, it was also impacted by the rise of a liberal opposition in the Parliament. The Monarchists are too much conservative in their mindset and policy. Currently, the economy of France is again in depression, and monarchy won't save the country from economic collapse," Rhett said masterfully.

"I understand that this is not the time of peasants and rich seniors like that in the 15th or 16th centuries, but the Opportunistic Republicans press the richest aristocracy too much. This is just too much…" Annabelle countered Rhett.

"I understand you, Annabelle, but the monarchy won't save France from economic depression."

"Rhett, I see your reasoning, but why should the old aristocrats of the country be formally equalized with peasants? I am not a peasant!" Annabelle exclaimed.

"I hope you don't support the Monarchists in public and financially, like many other old aristocrats in France do. It can be… erm... relatively dangerous because the crisis of power between the Monarchists and the Republicans will be won by the Republicans," Rhett said. He looked at Annabelle interrogatively.

"It doesn't matter, Rhett," Annabelle snapped carelessly and sighed. Rhett gazed at her suspiciously, but said nothing. After a pause, she added: "I don't support the Monarchists."

"Indeed?" Rhett asked with dubious sparkles in his eyes. His smile was of a cloak-and-dagger character as he doubted that Annabelle's support for monarchy was narrowed down to only words. He hoped that Scarlett wasn't involved in it, but wasn't very afraid as she had always stayed apart from politics.

"Indeed," Annabelle brushed aside.

"Alright." Rhett laughed, and Annabelle comprehended that he made a right guess.

Annabelle's grey eyes met Rhett's black. "I don't support the Monarchists," she repeated. "But I do hate the Republicans because they killed my Uncle Adrien and my distant relative Felix de Robillard. Is that understandable?"

"Yes," Rhett nodded.

"So, where does Scarlett plan to live in this case?" Eleanor quizzed uneasily, annoyed with the talk about the monarchy restoration in France. She put a huge piece of meat into her mouth.

"We were talking either possibly relocating to London or settling down somewhere in Switzerland," Annabelle answered and added, "But I reckon that finally we will end up somewhere between France and any other politically stable country. Maybe, being based in Paris, we can travel actively, both on business and leisure."

"Annabelle, this is a perfect idea." An acclamatory smile stirred Rhett's lips.

"Scarlett and I enjoy travelling. Neither Scarlett nor I like living all the year around in the same place unless it is necessary for some reasons," Annabelle supplemented.

"Scarlett has seen many countries in Europe and now she may compare, in contrast to what had been before she left the States. Besides, she can afford her… erm… expensive and extravagant lifestyle. As for Switzerland, it sounds interesting, Annabelle. Switzerland is a stable federal state with the newly revised modern federal constitution," Rhett elaborated further. "Besides, banking has emerged as a significant factor in the economy some time ago. Swiss banks are very reliable."

"Right to the point, Rhett… This is a politically neutral country in terms of international relations with other European countries," Annabelle spoke out and supplemented, "Besides, Scarlett and I have recently bought a large stake in the Union Bank of Switzerland. Scarlett also bought a castle somewhere in Geneva, while I purchased a nice house in Basel."

"I have a stake in the Swiss Bank Corporation and also invested in the luxurious Swiss matchmaking industry," Rhett chuckled. He was a little astonished to Scarlett's decision to invest in Switzerland. "Mother, given that our reputation was demolished in Charleston, I have been thinking about moving out of the South to somewhere in Europe, maybe even England, France, or Switzerland."

"Rhett, are you serious? But Rosemary and I would love to stay in Charleston. We were born there," Eleanor objected.

"Why not, mother? Robert, would you like to live somewhere in Europe with me?" Rhett drawled in his well-modulated Charlestonian voice.

"I would love to live in Europe. I have never been out of New Orleans and Charleston," Robert exclaimed happily and looked at Rhett with gratitude.

"It is good, son. We will need to talk later tonight," Rhett answered, smiling. He added: "The South will forgive me only in the distant future. Mother, if you need some help from my side… erm… put as much money in the charity as possible to restrain your name, tell me the numbers. I will give you everything."

"Thank you, son… I need to think how to help us to repair the loopholes in our name," Eleanor smiled.

"I am sorry, but I want to retire to my cabin," Robert said and rose to his feet.

"Of course, son. I will come to say you good night later," Rhett said.

"Goodnight, grandma and Madame Annabelle." Robert bowed low to the ladies, kissed Eleanor's cheek and Annabelle's hand.

"Goodnight, Robert," Annabelle smiled.

"Goodnight, Robert," Eleanor said as Robert was on his way to leave.

As his son Robert Butler left, Eleanor Butler, Rhett, and Annabelle were alone at the dinner table.

Rhett shut his eyes. In his thought, he wasn't at the dinner table. He was in London with Scarlett and their daughters Blanche and Isabelle. He didn't want to talk. He didn't want to answer any questions. He didn't want to discuss anything. He didn't know who he was or what he wanted or what dreams would come to fill his heart. He cherished only one dream – a dream about Scarlett and their daughters. He only knew that if he couldn't meet her soon, nothing would ever be right again.

"Rhett, what are you thinking about? Are you alright?"

"I am thinking of her and me," Rhett said simply and heartily, and his black eyes didn't express their usual blankness and hollow, but rather concern and anxiety.

"Rhett, I sent the telegram in London that we were on our way there. I hadn't received any word back before we boarded the ship," French grey-eyed lady said.

"Annabelle, thank you very much," Rhett replied gratefully.

"No problem, Monsieur Butler," she smirked.

"I want to see Scarlett."

"I am not sure that you will be welcomed with open arms. Rhett, you cased her deep-soul feeling of betrayal, disappointment, and distrust at the very least," Annabelle chastised.

"Son, I hope Scarlett will be fine. You just need to talk to her heart-to-heart." Eleanor's mouth was taken by a tightly controllable smile as she wasn't sure that it would be easy for Rhett to reconcile with Scarlett. However, she hoped for the best and wished her son to be happy.

"I am a realist. I know that, most likely, I will have to deal with the same mask of impersonal courtesy and aloofness. If it is not so, I will be lucky. Annabelle, why was it everywhere in all the newspapers in London that you and Scarlett are dead?" Rhett inquired, black eyes darkening with discontent.

"It was Scotland Yard's idea in order to detect the murderer, Rhett," Annabelle fumed and then became quite, not wanting to quarrel with Rhett. "His Grace _Duke Vittorio Amedeo di Savoia, the Duke of Naples,_ had to act in that way as competent authorities had decided on the plan. Besides, Vittorio is our good friend. He helped us so much, together with the Duke of Aylesbury, a very dear friend for the Robillards. Vittorio was always with us because after this tragedy Aylesbury had traveled to Paris in order to attend the funeral."

"I knew a different story, Annabelle. I came to your mansion in London, and the Duke of Naples dazzled me with the lie that you died and were buried at _Père Lachaise Cemetery_ in Paris in the family tomb of the Robillards," Rhett spelled out.

Annabelle's eyes narrowed. "What did you say, Rhett?" Startled, she put her half-empty wineglass back at the table.

"The Duke of Naples told me that Scarlett's last wish had been rather strange. In that deathbed note she asked me not to visit her grave as she had wanted me to remember her alive, although her last words were that she had loved me," Rhett announced.

"Absolute nonsense," Annabelle retorted.

"Look at the note," Rhett said as he extracted a folded sheet of paper from his pocket. He handed it to Annabelle. "Bizarrely, it is said in the note that Scarlett had wanted me to be happy without her."

Annabelle looked through the note. She shook her head in disbelief. "It is odd enough, I would say."

"The Duke of Naples lied to me, apparently in order to drive me away from Scarlett," Rhett assumed.

"Rhett, Scarlett was always unconscious after we had been poisoned. She didn't talk and wasn't able to write a letter. Naturally, she didn't sign this note. I don't understand how Vittorio could have overstepped all the boundaries." Annabelle's face was truly shocked. Her mouth went dry as she suppressed her breathing.

Rhett rubbed his cheek. "Does he know that I am Scarlett's former husband?"

"Vittorio knows about it," Annabelle said tartly.

"I see." Hot anger and rampage surged through Rhett's body.

"I think Vittorio had lied due to his personal interest in Scarlett. Undoubtedly, he forged Scarlett's signature on the so-called deathbed letter," Annabelle animadverted, her grey eyes snapping fire. "What a brute and a villain!"

Anger shot into Rhett's eyes. "The Duke of Naples is a damned, vile bastard!"

"He has liked Scarlett since the ball in Naples over a year ago. By the way, he knew that you are her former husband. Scarlett told him earlier," Annabelle explained.

"Vittorio intentionally lied. He forged that cursed letter. This is the only possible explanation. Now I understand why he turned away from me and didn't look into my face." Rhett sighed deeply, but no relief came. "I was astonished with Scarlett's desire. I was entirely taken aback."

Annabelle sipped wine. "We will explain Scarlett everything when she awakes."

"I am praying for her to recover soon." Rhett looked at Annabelle with eyes that were full of hope and regret. "I will have a serious talk with this cursed Duke of Naples in London."

Annabelle pursed her lips. "I suppose you will."

"I am so happy that I have children with Scarlett. My dear daughters! I was such a fool, such a fool…" Rhett nearly sung.

The grey-eyed lady drew in a shuddering breath. "At times we all are fools."

Rhett clenched his hands and averted his gaze. "If I had known that she had been in a family way, I would never have divorced her."

"But why didn't she tell you, Rhett?" Eleanor interjected.

"Mother, Scarlett couldn't do it as I didn't give her a chance. It was my entire fault," Rhett replied.

"Rhett, these deals are between you and Scarlett. I won't meddle, don't worry. I try hope that you will sort it out," Eleanor answered and sighed as she felt guilty for pressing Rhett to marry Silvia.

"Thank you, my dear mother," Rhett stated. The dinner was finished without any other word from each party.

Rhett felt that he had been a bad father. It was true that he had been a good father for Bonnie who had been his whole world. In the meantime, Rhett wasn't a good father for Robert and his two daughters – Blanche and Isabelle.

Scarlett didn't tell him about their daughters, but Rhett had always had Robert, keeping him in distance. Rhett couldn't find any justification for not being a good father for Robert: he knew about the boy's existence from the beginning. He was the boy's legal guardian as he was hiding the truth from the outside world, fearing that somebody else would know. The feeling of frantic guilt for not being a good, loving, caring father for Robert and for letting his mother Belle run a whorehouse was tearing his heart apart. He felt very guilty that he was keeping his son so distant from him for a long time, not telling him that he had been his blood father. He blamed himself for Belle's death. And now Belle Watling was dead, and she had been killed by Silvia, Rhett's fiancée. This circumstance made Rhett's life even more miserable and only compounded his feeling of guilt and self-disdain. Rhett couldn't forgive himself.

Rhett wasn't drinking as he had after Bonnie's death and after Scarlett's supposed death, when he had almost drunk himself to death. However, his mind was clouded with fatigue and pain. He was tiered. In the meantime, now when he knew that he had children with Scarlett and that Scarlett was sick, he couldn't be a weakling or a worthless dandy in fancy pants. It was high time for Rhett Butler to learn from his past mistakes and never run away from his fate again. Yes, he had many bleeding scars in the innermost of his heart, but he couldn't sink himself in alcohol. There were many people who needed him and he had to be strong.

After the dinner, Rhett decided to talk to Robert. He knocked at the door of his son's cabin and entered the room. He swept his eyes across the room. Robert was lying on the bed with a book in his hands. Rhett approached the bed. His gaze stopped at the small table and the French nearby settee patted with blue chenille fabric. He sank down into the settee.

"Good evening, Robert. Do you want to talk to your father now?" Rhett began.

"Certainly, father." Robert put the book aside on the bed.

Rhett smiled at the boy. "I am happy to hear it."

"I was reading the book," Robert said. His eyelashes were heavy with sleep.

Rhett's fingers drummed against the table, a harsh beat that took the place of actual thought. He stared at his son. "Son, you are enjoying our trip, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am," Robert smiled.

"I will show you London and many interesting places there."

Robert's black eyes glared at Rhett questioningly. "Father, I think you won't have time for me there because you will be with that lady who is sick."

"Robert, I will spend much time with Scarlett, but I won't abandon you as I did in Charleston."

"Don't worry, father. I will be fine."

"Son, you are invaluable boy," Rhett muttered, rubbing the side of his cheek. He shut his eyes.

"Father, I love you," Robert confided. "I have always loved you, even when I thought that you were only my guarding."

As his son said those priceless words, Rhett's eyes fluttered open. His heart pounded so loudly he could almost hear it in his ears, a relentless, rhythmic canter of his heart. He felt happy. He felt alive.

Rhett swallowed the incipient hot tears of happiness, which formed in his low throat. "You are making me happy, son."

"And so are you, father," Robert replied without any hesitation.

Rhett let out a heavy sigh. He leapt to his feet and came to the bed. At the same time, Robert also raised from the bed. Rhett leaned over his son and pulled Robert to his chest. Rhett's face was buried in his son's jet-black hair. Then he felt Robert's arms around him.

"I love you, son," Rhett whispered. Robert's kindness robbed Rhett of the cold indifference and apathy, which had ruled him all this time. "I love you, son," he repeated under his breath.

"I know, father."

Rhett disentangled himself from his son. Then he settled himself on the edge of the bed. He stared at his son. "I should have been with you when your mother died. However, I had been in Europe and I hadn't known about her death until I received a letter from my lawyer. After that, I headed back to Charleston."

"Father, I am not a small boy and I have my eyes wide open. It wasn't your fault that mother died," Robert said, his voice cracking. "I know that Silvia Dawson had murdered her. If Silvia hadn't committed a suicide in the Church, I would have killed her by myself."

"Robert, I do apologize for indirectly causing Belle's death. After all, Silvia Dawson was my fiancée. Believe me, Belle's death is a great loss for me."

"I believe you."

"I want you to live with me now. We have wasted so many years of our life in vain." Rhett's eyes turned deeply black as aches and longing seized him. "Son, I want you to forgive me for not being a good father for you."

"You mustn't apologize, father," Robert stated. His heart was breaking as he knew that his father had felt so much pain. "I understand."

"Thank you, son, and, please, believe me, I will bear the burden of all these tragedies until my dying day," Rhett smiled sadly, but his smile quickly faded away from his dark face.

"Father, is this lady from London your former wife?"

Rhett decided to answer truthfully. "Yes, she is."

"Will she live?" Robert asked. His voice betrayed genuine interest and concern. "Silvia was a beast to kill so many people!"

"I love this lady from London. Her name is Scarlett, and we had been married for around six years before we divorced. It is a long, yet sad story. I am praying for her life, son."

"Father, I truly hope that this lady will recover. How can I help you?" Robert asked wholeheartedly.

"Robert, you are helping me because you are with me here," Rhett smiled sadly. Then he blanched as his fantasies of a pale, sick Scarlett replayed in his mind. "You have two small sisters in France. Another sister of yours, Bonnie, died roughly three years ago."

Robert's eyes turned said. "I am so sorry for Bonnie's death, father." His voice was very sincere.

Rhett inhaled. "Thank you, son."

"I have realized that I have two small sisters because all Charleston was discussing it. I hate these gossipers who have nothing to do but intrude into other people's lives and create a mess. Father, I don't like Charleston," Robert said confidently. Rhett looked at him and saw how similar to him the boy was.

"You are like me in that aspect. Honestly, I have never liked Charleston. In the past several years, I pretended that I had found peace in Charleston. However, it was only an illusion of peace and self-deception," Rhett forced a weak smile on his tired face.

"Will you tell me the story of your life, father? You had great adventures, didn't you?" Robert inquired.

"Not today. I prefer to retire now," Rhett drawled. "Besides, you are almost asleep, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am. I was reading for a long time, and now I am really tired, father."

"In this case, let me wish you goodnight, son."

"Goodnight, father. Please, don't worry about me," Robert said eagerly.

* * *

_Rhett is trying to become better. He is thinking of his past mistakes and of his failures, which is the result of many tragedies he had to live through. _

_Please let me know what you think about this chapter. Any reviews are appreciated in advance._

_Thank you very much! _


	53. Chapter 53

**Chapter 53**

**Escape to London and back to Paris**

After a conversation with his son Robert, Rhett returned to his cabin and continued thinking about his life, Scarlett and their daughters Blanche and Isabelle. He tried to imagine their little faces. Where they similar to Bonnie? What was the color of their skin? What about their eyes? What did they like to do? How did Scarlett treat them? Did she become a better mother for their children? Rhett had so many questions whirling in his mind. Each time he was thinking about his daughters with Scarlett, his heart began racing so hard that he felt nearly strangled.

Rhett was so happy to know that he had two daughters with Scarlett. He wanted to love them and spoil his daughters like he had with Bonnie. Even if he had never seen them before, he already loved them unconditionally. Indeed, he was afraid to lose his heart again after Bonnie's death, and in the back of the tragedy with his precious daughter Rhett was emotionally drained and dead inside. Over time, his pain became more bearable as he had resigned to his lonely fate of a wolf without the only woman whom he had ever truly loved. It was true that Rhett hadn't wanted more children as he had told Scarlett during the night of their last lovemaking at the Charleston Grand Hotel. At that time he hadn't been sure that he was ready for the responsibility to have a family, even with Scarlett. He understood why Scarlett was talking about children and why she asked so many questions about this topic. Rhett remembered the evening in Charleston when Scarlett came to him and wanted to tell him something, but he hadn't given her a chance and threw his pregnant wife away out on the empty, cold street of the city. Rhett imagined how, wet, worn-out, and heartbroken, Scarlett was walking alone down the empty street and how she was trembling from cold, humiliation, and pain.

"I love you, Scarlett. I hope you will forgive me," Rhett silently thought. "This mess is our entire mutual fault, but most of the fault lies on my shoulders."

What a fool he had been not to understand that Scarlett had wanted to reveal an important secret to him. And it was a secret about their children. Rhett recalled that Belle Watling had assured him that Scarlett had indeed wanted to tell him something important. Rhett was ashamed as another man had saved Scarlett from disgrace of having an out-of-wedlock child, in fact two children, while Rhett had divorced her and did everything possible to forget her. A feeling of opprobrium slashed through his body and mind as he recalled that Scarlett had been living through a difficult pregnancy while he had been drinking, gambling, and bedding whores in Charleston. He didn't help her to carry their babies and only caused her pain and heartache. He left her alone in such an important moment of her life.

Rhett's heart was fiercely shaking in his chest from a feeling of guilt as he divorced Scarlett when she had been pregnant by him; abandoned her after the night of passion in Charleston when Blanche and Isabelle were conceived; kicked her out of his mother's house in Charleston when Scarlett came to tell him the exciting news about her pregnancy; left her sick and dying in London after the recent poisoning. Rhett felt how tears oozing in the corners of his black eyes.

Rhett felt great relief that he had abandoned Robert. The young boy had understood him so well. Moreover, his son didn't harbor malice against his farther. Rhett swore to himself that he would do everything possible to make his son happy. Robert was now fifteen years old, and it was time to think about his future. Although Rhett's primary desire was to send Robert to the North of the United States to Harvard, Rhett planned to talk to Robert later as he had to understand what Robert truly wanted to do and what he liked. As a father, Rhett didn't want to suppress the true personality of his son, as his father Langston Butler did when Rhett was young. Remembering his harsh, unyielding father and his cruel treatment of him, Rhett pledged that he would never act toward his son Robert or a new child with Scarlett, if any, like his own father did.

Scarlett and their daughters, as well as Robert, were the only light in the end of the tunnel for Rhett. His greatest fear was that Scarlett would lock her heart for him and would be even more indifferent to the outside world. He was sure that she had been more emotionally drained than she had been at the time of Mammy's death. Hoping that Scarlett doesn't lock her love for him away in her wounded heart, Rhett planned to marry Scarlett in London upon her recovery. He was sure that, being a headstrong survivor, she would make it through. He fantasized how he would love his daughters and Scarlett and would give them a free reign in everything that would make them happy and bring joy. His fantasies and plans were running in full swing in his enlivened mind.

In the same evening somebody knocked at the door of Rhett's luxurious cabin. Rhett didn't expect somebody to come and didn't want to talk to anybody. He was lying on the sofa and was going to have a bath before going to bed. Rhett blinked and rubbed his temples in an attempt to push away tiredness and sleep. As somebody knocked one more time, he cursed, unwilling to open the door and to talk to somebody. At that moment, all he cared for was a bath and a real bed. Rhett straightened his body and cursed again. He stood up and came to the settee. Then he took his black silk robe and wrapped him around his body. Then Rhett approached the door and opened it, swiftly and noiselessly.

Rhett was stunned as his black eyes fixed on Annabelle. Not saying a word, she immediately came inside the cabin. Rhett blinked several times in confusion. He was truly bewildered that Annabelle came to his cabin at this later hour – at eleven in the evening. He looked at her and his heart stopped: Annabelle wasn't wearing her evening gown as she had already undressed in her cabin. Rhett's eyes swept over her slender figure, estimating her night attire and her forms. Staring at her, Rhett was aware of his quickened breathing, but even more than that, he was aware of the sharp pang of pain in his heart: her forms were so much like Scarlett's, but her face wasn't Scarlett's. Rhett blinked again in an attempt to regain his composure. She wasn't Scarlett, he told himself, but she was so damned beautiful that any man could lose his heart and at least his breathe if he saw Annabelle at that moment. But Rhett's heart was filled with his strong, sincere love for Scarlett, and even despite it Annabelle's appearance had some effect on him. He was a man and a connoisseur of women's beauty, so it wasn't an unusual thing for him if he appreciated a lady's beauty like he remarked Annabelle's breathtaking, gorgeous, classical beauty of a Roman or a Greek Goodness.

Annabelle indeed looked very lovely. Her beauty was nearly classical, and all people thought so as they met her. At that evening, she was wearing a floral print silk wrapper with relatively the high-cut neckline, the large gold buttons, the wide lace wristbands and the collar trimmed with a tiny line of chinchilla. It was quite an extravagant thing, not out of fashion, but definitely not the one that could be bought everywhere. Interested in women's dressing, Rhett's black eyes scanned Annabelle with interest and he barely suppressed his desire to ask about her attire. Her thick, dark blonde, straight, long hair was untressed and reached her waist. She looked so particularly feminine at that moment. However, she didn't look as a seductress because her face had a concentrated, strict, even hard expression. As she came in, she cast a serious, contemplative glance at Rhett.

Rhett eyebrows went up, his black eyes anxious. He stepped back from the door as Annabelle came inside and came closer to him. He settled into the chair and offered Annabelle to join him in the nearby blue velvet armchair. However, Annabelle ignored his offer and sank in the rosewood settee near the small table. She stared at Rhett and narrowed her grey eyes to slits as she intently studied his face.

Rhett cocked an eyebrow at her. He made a courteous bow and gave a charismatic smile to Annabelle. "Good evening, Annabelle. What happened?" he asked in astonishment.

"Thank you, Rhett. Everything is fine. I need to talk to you urgently."

Rhett's black eyes locked with Annabelle's grey eyes in puzzlement. There was a silence in the room for around a minute, and nobody was talking. Their eyes were fixed on each other's faces. Suddenly, Annabelle extracted from the pocket of her wrapper two small flacons – one with the dark blue powder and one with the dazzling white powder. She put them on the square wooden table and raised her head, her grey eyes focused on Rhett's tired face.

The tense silence reigned. Both of them had tired, pale faces, but they continued to sit and watch each other like two misty apparitions, coming in the midst of the universal silence and amid the complete immobility of their figures, in the exhausted, nearly mournful air.

Rhett took one black cigar from the silver case, and lit it. "What did you bring here?" he asked, looking down at two flacons.

Annabelle shot him a resolute glance. "This is blue cooper sulphate and _Cantarella_ - the Medici and the Borgia's exclusive poisons at the same table." Then she narrowed her eyes. "Don't you like them, Monsieur Rhett Butler?" A cunning grin flashed across her face.

Even if he was bewildered, he didn't show that and looked quite indifferent to what had happened. "How do you have these rare poisons?" Rhett snapped carelessly.

"I will give one advice to you, Monsieur Rhett Butler. Take them and begin to take one milligram of each of them as a preventive measure every day. Interchange them in usage," Annabelle recommended, her grey eyes piercing his black eyes.

Rhett stared at the flacons. "Are you recommending me to train my body for various poisons?"

"Yes," Annabelle said. "In several months your body will be immune to them. In case of _Cantarella_, it may take up to six months to become immune. There are no antidotes for _Cantarella_, so that if you are poisoned, you are automatically dead. You can preserve yourself only taking some of the poison before. And you must take it for a long, long time - for around six months without any break. To become immune to the poison, you must use the poison for minimum of four mounts. _Cantarella _includes arsenic as a component, so that if you are poisoned by arsenic, you will still be immune."

Rhett narrowed his eyes. "Which components does _Cantarella_ include?"

Annabelle sighed. "Oh, Rhett! It is a unique poison. _Cantarella _is a variation of arsenic and some Cantharidine powder, as well as some other unknown components. It is the Borgia's specific poison. It was often used by the Borgia family if they wished to rid themselves of unwanted people or their enemies. In particular, _Pope Alexander VI_ and his daughter _Lucrezia Borgia_ used this poison for political assassinations."

"Is it such a strong poison?" Rhett questioned.

Annabelle laughed at him, and it was an unpleasant laugh. "Rhett, it is dreadful poison. _Cantarella_ is slow acting venom. It is very pleasant to the taste, very sweet and very enjoyable. Unlike many active poisons, _Cantarella_ doesn't overwhelm a victim's vital forces by a sudden assault. Instead, this lethal poison insensibly penetrates the veins and each and every membrane of the body, with a slow but deadly effect." She paused and looked at him seriously. "The problem is that we don't know the exact components of the poison, but we can still find it in a pure powder. All we know is that Cantarella includes arsenic and Cantharidine powder, as well as some other unknown poisons. Therefore, to become immune to the poison, you must take it in its pure view," she explained.

"It sounds horrid." Revulsion, sour and thick, was rising inside Rhett. He made himself drag in more air, in long, labored breaths. He held each of his breath for a long, long time.

She agreed with him. Biting her lip, she nodded. "Indeed, horrid."

Rhett's face screwed up. "Why do I need the Medici's cooper sulphate and the Borgia's _Cantarella_?"

"I am not sure that this bloody performance is over. I guess it is over for several months or years, but we don't know what will be later," she said, her grey eyes blazing with confidence.

"How did you get them?"

"The doctor in London who took care of us was the distinguished doctor at _Napoleon III's_ court. He has one of the greatest experiences in poisons and antidotes in Europe. He has always told me that the best preventive measure is to take some poison on a regular basis," Annabelle explained.

"Have you renewed this practice?" His black eyes turned darker, his shoulders stiffened.

For a brief moment, a dark shadow passed over her face. "Yes, I have. I did that before my trip to the United States."

"What are you afraid of?" Rhett's voice was smooth, but with a note of concern.

"After what you have told me about the Duke of Naples, I don't know what to think. He is Italian aristocrat and the worst is that he is from the South of Italy, Naples. They all are usually bloodthirsty."

Rhett flipped the ash off the cigar and closed his eyes. "I have thought about it, Annabelle."

"Besides, _Duke Vittorio Amedeo di Savoia_ is from Naples," she remarked. "He has some interesting ancestors in his lineage."

Rhett didn't understand where she was going. He blinked. "What are you going to say?"

"Don't you know that Vittorio's mother has some ancestors who were profound poisoners?"

That seemed to spark something, for Rhett's black eyes widened an infinitesimal degree. "No, I didn't know about it." He laughed shortly. "How diabolical," he said in the tone of ambiguous meaning.

"_Duke Vittorio Amedeo di Savoia__, the Duke of Naples_, is the descendant of the Borgia noble family. You know that the Borgias were latent murderers," Annabelle announced. A sarcastic smile hovered over her lips. "_Lucrezia Borgia's_ second husband was _Alfonso of Aragon_, the illegitimate son of _Alfonso II King of Naples_," Annabelle confessed. She shrugged her shoulders. "Vittorio swaggered in public many times that _Alfonso of Aragon_ was his ancestor and that he is related to the Borgia family."

Rhett's brows frowned. "_Alfonso of Aragon_?"

Annabelle adamantly shook her head. "_Alfonso of Aragon_ was _the Duke of Bisceglie_ and _Prince of Salerno of_ _the House of Trastámara_. He was the illegitimate son of _Alfonso II King of Naples_ and his mistress _Trogia Gazzela_. _Cesare Borgia_ was mainly accused of the assassination of _Alfonso of Aragon_. However, Alfonso's death remains shrouded in mystery."

He studied her with a scrupulous gaze. He sighed as he didn't have great knowledge in the European aristocracy, all the more Italian. "Now I can remember. There are so many bloodlines in European aristocracy that it is very difficult to remember them, even the most well-known."

"I agree." Annabelle nodded. "Vittorio is very proud of his bloodline and lineage. Besides, Vittorio is a virtuoso in the art of poisoning, Rhett. He knows so many things that you cannot imagine this even in the worst nightmare."

Rhett smiled ambiguously. "What does the Duke of Naples know?"

Annabelle also smiled melancholically. "Vittorio knows everything in the art of poisoning: how to prepare the poisonous mixture, how the poison kills, how to administer the poison. He knows the lethal doses and the lowest dose of poisons that had a toxic impact on humans. He also knows the side effects and the antidotes to many poisons. Take into account that he has not only the Borgia's _Cantarella_, but also the Medici's blue and black cooper sulphate, as well as many other poisons," she enlightened.

Rhett ran a right hand through his jet-black hair. "It is an interesting story."

"I am not joking, Rhett." Annabelle twisted her arms, still in short, black lace gloves due to the dark spots in the fingernails area, on her lap. "He has successfully demonstrated his knowledge in this murderous science. He knows more than fifty poisonous plants and how they can be used in combination with black or blue cooper sulfate and _Cantarella_." She stared at him. "Vittorio is a virtuoso in the art of poisoning and in alchemy," she reiterated.

"It is good to know this in advance." Rhett stared at her with gratitude. "Damn the Duke of Naples! Damn him and his Borgia blood." Rhett felt as bewildered, angry and helpless as he had felt at that evening, but earlier when they realized what trick the Duke of Naples had made to mislead Rhett and push him away from Scarlett. Another storm of outrage was rolling toward him, as Vittorio turned out to be a specialist in the art of poisoning.

"If you have a conflict with his Grace _Vittorio Amedeo di Savoia_, he will pursue you like a mosquito until he drinks all your blood," Annabelle declared steadily. "Having the Borgia's blood is not very good lineage in terms of kindness and benevolence. You know from the history that in the Borgia family everybody possessed his or her mortal arm which, like a family jewel, was handed down from father to son. All the murderous science of poisoning was handed down generation by generation."

"Like a scorpion," Rhett admitted. He sank back into the armchair.

Annabelle drew a deep breath. Her voice was twanging lightly. "Like whatever you want, Rhett. But if Vittorio takes his revenge, he will probably use poison and in this case it will be _Cantarella_. However, he might also use other poisons as he has a lot in stock and can prepare new variations to satisfy his needs."

"I think the Duke of Naples won't backtrack from Scarlett without a battle," Rhett assumed.

Annabelle contradicted him. "Vittorio is a very proud man, and he doesn't want to be rejected. I am not sure that he would continue to pursue Scarlett, but he can take his revenge in another way."

"He can be dangerous," Rhett said. Then he rose to his feet and began to slowly meander back and forth across the room.

"Besides, I am not sure that everything was finished in Charleston, Rhett."

"Silvia is dead, Annabelle." Rhett shook his head disapprovingly, his eyes cold.

Annabelle threw him an exasperated look. "You may state whatever you want, the great Rhett Butler, but I don't need your arrogance and aloofness," she snarled at him through clenched teeth. She got up cunningly and stepped to the door.

Rhett's voice turned warmer, his eyes sparkling. "Annabelle, I didn't mean to offend you."

"I don't care what you wanted. But you will respect me, whether you want it or not," Annabelle raised her voice, her eyes snapping dissatisfaction. "Vittorio will retreat only in the shadow and will reappear sooner or later. Also, don't forget about vendetta, Rhett."

Aloofness was gone. "Thank you, Annabelle. One milligram?" he asked, his eyes kind.

"Yes, one milligram every day – one day cooper sulphate, another day _Cantarella_. Rotate the poisons in application," she explained.

"What about the antidote to _Cantarella_? Did it ever exist?"

"_Cantarella_ is a dreadful thing because, as I mentioned, there is no antidote from this venom – _Cesare Borgia, Duke of Valentinois,_ took it to his tomb, but left the poisonous mixture for further generations," Annabelle responded, standing almost at the doorway. "There was one doctor, Doctor Brunelleschi, if I am not mistaken in the name, and that doctor cured many victims. It had always been said that that doctor had somehow developed an effective antidote due to experience with numerous victims of the poison. However, that antidote was confiscated by the Borgia family, while Doctor Brunelleschi was murdered by _Cesare Borgia_. Later _Cesare Borgia_ ensured that the antidote had disappeared from the sinful Earth. He destroyed all the papers that could have helped to find antidote."

"How unfair relative to the Borgia's victims," Rhett said.

"Very cruel," Annabelle answered. "You might also visit Doctor Casimir Broussard in London, and he will tell you the same, but not give, Rhett."

Rhett shrugged, a glimpse of marvel was in his dark eyes."Why not to give the poisons to me?" He scanned her slender form again and found that it was similar to Scarlett's. His frown slowly melted away as he stared down on her.

Annabelle signed heavily, fluttering her eyelashes down. "Because Doctor Casimir doesn't know you and because these poisons are very rare poison, especially _Cantarella_. Therefore, he cannot allow using these poisons exclusively as a preventive measure for unknown people. _Cantarella_ is extremely rare, very secretive, I would say. Doctor Broussard has known me since 1861 when I became a lady-in-waiting in the Imperial court, Rhett. We are a sort of old and dear friends. He was the doctor who tried to save my husband and son after the poisoning, but everything was in vain. He saved me that time." Annabelle signed heavily, fluttering her eyelashes down.

"Thank you, Annabelle," Rhett said heartily, perspiration bathing his forehead.

"You are welcome."

"I am sorry if my words upset you. I didn't have such an intention."

"Alright, Rhett. Please, take the best care of these two flacons. Doctor Broussard will give Scarlett the same after she awakes," Annabelle finished her tired and blinked sleepily.

"Annabelle, thank you for supporting me. Thank you for everything."

"That's alright. Goodnight, Rhett," she replied in a fatigued voice as she opened the door and paused at a doorway, half turned to Rhett.

"Goodnight, Annabelle," he answered as she closed the door.

After Annabelle retired, Rhett took two flacons with the poison and went straight to the desk. He moved his slightly bloated body in the dark-blue wooden chair in front of the desk and arranged the papers there. He opened one flacon of ashy-grey color and smelled it – it seemed to be sweet, like a smell of a flower, but in reality a rare, powerful, silent weapon for murders. He screwed up his face and whistled several times. His heart throbbed violently, his eyebrows contracted in a gloomy frown, his face hardened. He felt overwhelmed, without fire, without a thought. He was tired, both physically and emotionally. The single thought that he had to use these poisons was disgusting, and he felt a huge lump in his dry throat. He was waiting for something as though a prisoner had waited for executioner.

When Rhett took the flacon with sweet _Cantarella_ and approached the table with the box of medical supplies in order to find a small pipette. He took it and opened the flacon. Measuring one milligram, he instilled the liquid in his throat. The taste was sweet, and he swallowed hard and loudly several times. He felt nothing unusual and painful, and he just sighed heavily. He returned to the desk and collected the second flacon. Then he hid two flacons with precious powder and liquid in his small suitcase which he was always carrying by himself. He decided that it would be better to always have these two flacons with him. With this, Rhett went to bed, but night was sleepless and sleep claimed him only near the time of sunrise.

At the same time, Scarlett was in Paris. She was thinking about Rhett Butler. Finally, she decided that she needed to have a short break before she could face her former husband. She knew that this time her conversation with her former husband would be very serious. She had to decide whether she would create a new peace and home together or leave him forever. There was a possibility that she could let Rhett see the children and make them legitimate Butlers whilst not marrying Rhett. Rhett could agree to split his time so that he spent part of the year with the children. Alternatively, he could come to Paris for some time and meet them. Alternatively, Scarlett could reunite with Rhett and give her love for this adventurer and renegade who had captured her heart – a heart of a forever Southern belle and now a well-off aristocratic lady from European upper-class society. Scarlett was so tired, exhausted both physically and emotionally, and she didn't want to live through the chaotic love with distrust, disdain, mortification, and blood. There was too much blood between them and too many broken pieces which had doubled in their quantity over the past years after all the grief she had had to live through. She didn't believe Rhett and didn't know what to expect from him. Scarlett was confident that Rhett wanted her physically, but she didn't want to be just a body for him. Scarlett was languishing in her romantic love for Rhett, which is higher in its metaphysical and ethical senses than love associated exclusively with physical attractiveness alone. She wanted to have Rhett's mind and his soul, and if she had them, their love could transcend to sexual desire and to physical appearances. This was Scarlett's reasoning.

Before leaving London, Scarlett needed to produce letters for both Annabelle and Rhett to explain her disappearance. Scarlett settled comfortably in the chair near the desk and started writing. The first letter was for Rhett. It was a long letter, and it took her much time to concentrate on the words and combine them in phrases. She re-read the letter several times, and anger veered irrationally towards Rhett – her temper was in shreds.

The next letter was for Annabelle. Scarlett decided not to tell Annabelle the reason for her escape out of London in order not to raise her hopes prematurely. She had decided to tell her that she needed time to sort out her thoughts regarding Rhett and their future and wanted time alone.

The same evening Scarlett, her daughters Blanche and Isabelle, and _Vittorio Amedeo Alberto di Savoia, the Duke of Naples_, together with fifteen of his escort people, left London and headed to Paris. Scarlett was quite weak and tired. When they stopped in Southampton's hotel for the night, Vittorio had to carry her from the carriage to the lobby of the hotel, but she somehow managed to go upstairs on her own. Having a short break for an hour and putting the children into the bed, Vittorio and Scarlett went downstairs to the bar to have a night drink.

"Scarlett, you were so thoughtful today. Are you simply tired, my dear?" Vittorio asked and poured Scarlett some wine after the waited had brought it.

"I am a little tired, Vittorio. Apart from that, I am fine. I was thinking about my trip to Vienna," Scarlett sipped some wine and looked at him with bright, shining emerald orbs.

"Perhaps, you should spend some time with me in Naples after you are done with your deals in Vienna?" the Duke narrowed his gaze in expectation, his muscles on his tanned body tightened as the tension rose.

"I will give you a mighty ungrateful answer. I plan to be in Toulouse by the end of the summer. However, if you are around, you are more than welcome to visit," Scarlett smiled playfully.

"That is a demure idea. Scarlett, you know my attitude towards you. You are a celestial lady," the Duke of Naples nearly sang, as he closed his eyes musefully. He added begrudgingly: "I have to leave you in Vienna as in August I need to be in Florence, Rome, and then travel back to Naples. I do apologize for this. Will you manage without me in Vienna?"

"Vittorio, you are such a good friend!" she exclaimed in an afflux of gratitude, her eyes beaming.

"Yes, I am," he grinned.

"Thank you for everything you have done for me," Scarlett feigned no to understand Vittorio's hint and attempted a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Don't worry, I will manage by myself."

"That's good," he replied. "Will you be only in the South of France in Toulouse?"

"Maybe, I will also go to Geneva and then to Toulouse. I had recently purchased a house in Geneva, Vittorio."

"But why in Geneva?"

"I have some investments in Swiss banks and at times plan to travel there. As for the house, I didn't plan to buy it, but I just had some free money which I won in whist."

"Oh?" Vittorio whistled in astonishment and then broke into laughing.

She smiled at him. "Yes."

"It is so much money! How did you manage to do it, my dear? I have never won so much."

"When Annabelle and I were in London, at Willis's Rooms on King Street, former Almack's, we played at the whist-table. I would say I played and Annabelle observed. Actually, this was my exclusive game with only Lord Lanesborough, but all the visitors observed. It was nice to outplay this arrogant dandy."

"The fact that you outplayed Lord Lanesborough in whist makes you the Queen of whist, Scarlett. I think that only Lord Effingham, the Duke of Aylesbury, the Duke of Northumberland, the Earl of Dudley, and the Earl of Malmesbury play better than Lord Lanesborough does."

"Next time I am in London I will play with one of them," Scarlett replied. She raised her eyes and smiled faintly. "The only thing that I don't like in this idea is that we will have to do it again at Almack's, which doesn't seem to be worth all to do."

Vittorio smiled at her, absently pushing back a rebellious wave of heavy black hair from his forehead. "You don't like Almack's, the best social club for the ton of England in London? If somebody hears this, he or she will be insulted beyond bearing."

"Vittorio, it is just between you and me," Scarlett allowed her soft mouth to tremble into a fugitive, appealing smile.

Vittorio raised his eyebrows. "Naturally. What don't you like about this place?"

"There is nothing remarkable there, and I still don't understand why it is so fashionable. The rooms are spacious, but not splendid. The served refreshments have always struck me as being on the meager side. Besides, usually no high stakes are allowed, so that at the card-table people can play whist for small points. We had a problem to organize the game for our very high stakes, but finally they made a special concession as it was the battle of the year as they called it."

"My dear, you are absolutely correct, because it is even more than the whist battle of the year," Vittorio glanced laughingly at her. "What I like in you is your straightforwardness and challenge to social norms."

"You know that at times it can harm you, Vittorio."

"I would love to see the whist battle between you and Lord Effingham or Lord Malmesbury."

"Perhaps, next time I will be able to finance the purchase of other property if I win," Scarlett pronounced and laughed. "I hope I will meet them for the whist fight at one of the private parties and don't have to do it at Almack's."

"I am sure you will have plenty of opportunities," Vittorio said. "Life is very long."

In three days, Scarlett and Vittorio arrived in sunny Paris. Scarlett and children's things were packed, and they were supposed to depart from Paris in the morning. Vittorio, who volunteered to accompany her to Vienna, had to arrive in the early morning to Scarlett mansion.

Sitting in the study room of the large mansion in the Baroque style _on Rue des Blancs Manteaux_ in _Le Marais,_ Scarlett was contemplating on her life. Knowing that Rhett should be in London now while she had already arrived in Paris, her heart was struggling with strong, ever-rising desire to see him and feel secure and safe. Yes, she lacked the feeling of safety and comfort in Rhett's tender hands. She longed for sleeping with him in the same bed, clanging to his large masculine chest and feeling its coarse roughness. Scarlett didn't feel the completeness of her own life without Rhett, and she knew that she would never feel it without him. Her heart and soul were bleeding, but she knew for sure that even all the tragedies they had to live through didn't kill her love for Rhett. However, even now when Rhett was free of Silvia and in London, she still didn't trust him and didn't know how to move on in her after-grief life. Too much was broken into a plenitude of tenuous fragments between them, and too much innocent blood was spilled.

Smiling half softly and half lamentable, Scarlett knew in her heart that she would never forget Rhett Butler. Could she find contentment in her life with Rhett again? She wondered sadly. Was she to live the rest of her life waiting for Rhett to come? What was Rhett doing at that moment when she was thinking about him? Was he speculation about his mistakes as she was doing in her mind?

"I hate and love Rhett Butler," Scarlett thought. "What should I do now? I am so confused. God, please help me to understand what I should do."

Scarlett was abstracted in her thoughts, and her brain was working strenuously. As her mind has cooled off a little and she acquired back the ability of cool reasoning, Scarlett felt that she had probably made a mistake in her running away from London. She wasn't quite sure if she was happy or disappointed or devastated by her escape. She repeated Rhett's error in her salutary tactic to protect herself. She was acting like a coward, and she recognized it. Scarlett felt that she had continued a sophisticated game of her anfractuous life path, and she wasn't convinced that that path would bring her happiness. She remembered that Annabelle told her multiple times that someone of two blackguards must have exited the game in time or the third blackguard had to intrude in the situation. In Scarlett and Rhett's case, Annabelle became the third blackguard who rescued Rhett from the greatest mistake in his life of marrying a murderer. The reality was that Annabelle had to interfere because Scarlett was a coward not to talk to Rhett before when they met in Charleston in December 1875 and on the art event where all the obstacles had melted and she had lost all her self-control under Rhett's desire and burning passion. She had to press him to tell the truth but she was too distracted by physical pleasure that delayed the conversation for later meeting, which hadn't happen so far. Now, escaping from London, Scarlett was acting like Rhett who fled from her many times. She knew that no problems would be solved, but nevertheless she stepped on the road of new errors and delusions.

Scarlett started to question her conventional strategy to postpone her thinking for tomorrow. In the art event, she delayed her conversation with Rhett, as well as she didn't tell him the truth in the States when she was at the Doctor Meade's house in Atlanta after she had been shot at Tara. Annabelle inquired her numerous times when Scarlett would disclose Rhett the truth in person or send him a letter, and she always referred to so-called "convenient" moment. However, Scarlett didn't define this "convenient" moment even for herself, and this happened because she adjourned thinking and hence solving her personal problems for tomorrow. Her mind replayed that in her marriage with Rhett when she missed him and didn't know why it happened, she didn't listen to her heart and postponed the understanding of her own internal self-attributions and feelings for tomorrow. During the war and in the several years of the after-war time, Scarlett had to survive and justified her strategy with the necessity to earn money for a living. Now she had enough money, but still adhered to the same concept that didn't bring her happiness. Scarlett's great Vittorio was that she recognized that she acted like Rhett in her laying aside for tomorrow solutions to problems.

"God's nightgown! I am a coward, like Rhett Butler. I always adjourned for tomorrow the solution of my personal problems. And what is the result? Are you happy now?" she mused. "I am not happy and will never be unless I talk to Rhett. But how painful it is, and I don't trust him. I am not sure that he truly loves me. But how can he trust me after I had acted like him?"

Scarlett impeached whether Rhett could trust her. The answer was that neither he nor she could trust earlier and can trust each other now. She acknowledged that they had continued to do the same mistakes as they did during their marriage, in the old days of their life. Those days are gone, but Scarlett and Rhett are still in their fresh and blood and don't talk to each other in a way as they should do. Undermining her own self-esteem and selfishness, Scarlett adjudicated that all the recent tragedies could have been avoided if both Scarlett and Rhett were wiser and stopped their unappreciative games a long time ago. Scarlett even presupposed that Rhett proceeded to the marriage with Silvia under the circumstances of extreme family's pressure and knowledge that she was dead. She knew that, crushed by the death of Scarlett and his friend Belle, Rhett would have probably nearly lost his mind and became more emotionally languid, in fact dead, than it was in the time preceding their divorce. Scarlett's mindset was enveloped with her attempts to understand Rhett and put herself in his shoes. She has never done and even tried to do this before, and at present she knew that she had to pay off hard for this mistake. Never before had Scarlett speculated so profoundly on her own behavior and mistakes. Never before had Scarlett taken someone's place in order to understand and grasp the mental world of this person together with strengths and weaknesses, dignities and miseries.

Soothing her obvious distressed state of mind, Scarlett concluded that tomorrow morning she would visit her lawyer in Paris and would ask him to tell Rhett about her whereabouts. She knew that Rhett would visit her lawyer in order to start paperwork with the children, and hence she decided to give Rhett the clue where she was. Scarlett was adamant in the sacred duty to help Annabelle as she knew that her friend would never come to François on her own. It meant that Scarlett had to come to Vienna right now. Coincidently, in her thoughts of Rhett, she wanted to check him whether he would pursue her if he knew where she headed. In fact, she wanted to see decisive actions from Rhett, either vindicating his love for her or proving his pure desire to see children instead of her.

"Let's see what you will do if you know where I am, Rhett Butler. What will you do to provide me with credible and unimpeachable testimony of your proclaimed undying love for me?" Scarlett's final decision arrived. "Now I don't have time. I won't put it off for tomorrow."

Scarlett also remembered about her promise to India Wilkes to take Beau for some time in Europe in the summer. She asked one of her maids Clarisse whom she had completely trusted to go to Atlanta in order to bring Beau in Vienna to her. She also planned to take Ashley's son with her to the South of France to Toulouse. Scarlett sent a letter to Henry Hamilton.

_Dear Henry,_

_I am perfectly fine and alive. Don't believe in the nasty rumors of my death around my name._

_When I was in Atlanta, we agreed with India to take Beau to me to Europe in the summer. I am sending my maid Clarisse Laquerre to collect Beau from Atlanta. She will grant to India my personal letter. Please, inform India that she is more than welcome to accompany Beau to Europe. I am sure that the store can live without her for a month or so._

_I will be in Vienna till the end of the summer. By the end of the summer I plan to arrive to Toulouse in my chateau._

_Please, use the address of my lawyer in Paris for all further correspondence._

_Take care of yourself._

_Kindest regards,_

_Scarlett de Robillard de Bréveaux, Marquise de Bréval_

* * *

_New chapter is uploaded. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. _

_All the information about the Borgia family is real and historically correct. _

_Do you have any second thoughts about the poisoning topic? Do you have any expectations about the poisoning twists?_

_Please tell me what you think about the Duke of Naples as a hero. Vittorio is a fictional hero. I am really interested in your opinion._

_I wanted to portray him as the Borgia's descendant and as a rich Italian aristocrat. In addition, I wanted to show him as a crafty and hypocritical man. _

_As for Scarlett, many new interesting things will happen in Vienna. She will meet some of her Robillards relatives and Annabelle's only true love François. _

_Reviews are always appreciated. Thank you very much._


	54. Chapter 54

**Chapter 54**

**Arrival in London at the Marchmont Hall: Scarlett's escape and Annabelle and Rhett's heart-to-heart talk**

In the sunny morning of July 1876, Rhett, Eleanor, Robert, and Annabelle disembarked in Southampton. Everybody had an elevated frame of mind, except for Annabelle and Rhett. Not having even a single desire to talk to Rhett in detail about Scarlett and remembering her François, Annabelle transformed to a pure aristocratic indifferent lady with a mask of impersonal courtesy and blankness on her pretty face. Like Annabelle, Rhett was wearing his well-accustomed impermeable mask of insouciance and indifference because only this mask helped him protect himself from all the pain that he had carried in his heart.

"What is on your mind, Rhett?" Annabelle inquired.

"When she awakes, everything may finish only with cries of disappointment and pain. Alternatively, there will be polite indifference and even more haggish aloofness," Rhett verbalized his anticipations.

Annabelle drew a deep breath. "We don't know for sure. Now we can only guess," she paused. She inhaled deeply. "We are boarding the train soon."

Rhett looked away as he spoke. "Boundaries between love and hatred are so twiggy."

Annabelle squeezed his hand in a friendly manner. "Don't be so pessimistic."

"What else can I expect from her?"

"Understanding," Annabelle offered.

Rhett shook his head. "Scarlett may never understand. Her temper will boil. We will have a clash and no normal talk."

"Rhett, you are underestimating Scarlett. She is no longer that sixteen-year-old girl whom you had fallen in love with many years ago. She had changed. At the same time, she is still the old Scarlett deeply inside in her heart. But she is not the same old Scarlett as she has matured."

"You think so, don't you?" he asked, hope blossoming in his chest.

"I know for sure," Annabelle said in a confident voice. "You must wait when a convenient moment comes. Certainly, she needs time to calm down. I suppose she is hurting terribly."

Rhett shut his black eyes. He sighed. "Scarlett is emotionally fragile now."

"Yes, she is," Annabelle agreed. "It won't be easy for you now, but you can make it."

"I will do everything for her. I hope she won't be completely estranged from me."

"I hope so," Annabelle said. "She will have to understand."

"This is my last chance for happiness after all what had happened in Charleston," Rhett declared, finality ringing in his voice.

"Try not to think about it. You have people who love you and need you. This woesome period will be behind you soon," Annabelle replied.

In the late evening of July 1876, Rhett, Robert, Annabelle, and Eleanor Butler stepped off the carriage on Albemarle Street in Mayfair and approached the Marchmont Hall_,_ a red two-storied mansion in the Neo-Romanesque style. The house was owned by the Earl of Marchmont, Marguerite's son. Eleanor was keeping silent, carefully watching Rhett and Annabelle and anticipating what will happen next. Rhett was withdrawn and lost in his thoughts. After Annabelle's story about what Scarlett's state was like, Rhett anticipated to see a deathly pale, sick Scarlett in the bed, but a sort of gumption told his tired mind that something different would occur. Rhett didn't know why he had this feeling, but he had it. Annabelle was the calmest and the most relaxed person among the travelers, also having a strange misgiving of not dealing with what everybody expected to face.

Annabelle's grey eyes scanned Rhett. Undoubtedly, the past two weeks from the tragic day of Rhett's wedding improved his appearance – Rhett's eyes no longer were as bloodshot as before and the puffiness of his body lessened. He was keeping a stiff upper lip despite a hurricane of lamentable emotions swirling in his heart. She remarked that he was an epitome of fashion and looked like a real London dandy. His beaver hat was set over black locks carefully brushed into an elegant semblance of disorder; his white cravat of starched muslin supported his chin in a series of beautiful folds; his travel coat bore no less than ten capes and a double row of silver buttons. Indeed, he was a very handsome creature.

They entered the parlor and were met by loud cries of Annabelle's five-year-old son René who was impatiently waiting for his mother's arrival. Marguerite followed René to greet the guests.

René was running to Annabelle's open embrace and hugged her tightly. "Mother, mother, you returned! I was waiting for you for such a long time!" the boy exclaimed.

Annabelle leaned down and kissed her son on the cheek. "René, my darling, I am here. I missed you so much," she purred.

René hugged his mother tighter. He was overexcited meeting his mother. "Mother, I missed you so much." He looked up at her. "You won't leave soon, will you?" he asked with hope in his amber eyes.

Annabelle smiled. "My dear son, I won't abandon you for a long time more. I promise," she pledged.

"Where have you been for such a long time?" René questioned.

"I have been in the United States. It is very far from here, and I had to cross the Atlantic Ocean by ship. It was a long, time-consuming journey," Annabelle said in a low voice.

"I arrived a week ago in London. Aunty Scarlett left two days ago," René reported.

"Oh, I see," she said, her eyes blazing in bewilderment as she didn't expect René to say those words. She looked at Marguerite. "Marguerite, my dear, good evening."

"Hello, Annabelle. Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," Marguerite greeted the guests. "I hope your long trip went well."

"May I introduce to you _Marguerite Marie Gabrielle de Robillard de Bréveaux, Duchess de Ventadour_." Annabelle straightened her spine and looked around at everybody. René continued to press himself to Annabelle's skirts. "Marguerite is one of the French Robillards."

"I am delighted to meet you, Madame Marguerite de Ventadour. My name is Rhett Butler. This is my mother Eleanor Butler and my son Robert Butler. Thank you for your hospitality," Rhett said in his usual cold tone, bowed, and put off his hat to welcome Marguerite.

"Good evening, Madame Marguerite. Thank you for your hospitality," Eleanor greeted.

"Good evening, Madame. It is very wonderful to meet you," Robert bowed low and smiled.

"Welcome to London and into my house. Please, feel as if you are at home. Annabelle, René was waiting for your arrival eagerly, and so was I," Marguerite pronounced with a sweet smile.

René pulled his mother's skirts. "Mother, mother!" he exclaimed to attract her attention.

Annabelle smiled and looked down at her son. "René, darling, I got some presents for you. But now I am little busy. Son, can you please wait for me in the parlor or your room?" she requested in a sweet voice. "You see, René, our guests and I have just arrived and I want to help Marguerite to accommodate them."

René kissed Annabelle on her cheek as she leaned down again. "Yes, mother. I will be waiting for you in my room. Have a good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I will find my way out." The boy bowed politely to everybody, and left the parlor.

"Good evening," a gentleman said. He entered the parlor as though stealthy, his footsteps were noiseless. "I hope you had a good trip from Southampton to London."

Rhett's black eyes flew to the gentleman. He guessed that he was the Earl of Marchmont, Madame Marguerite's son. He was a handsome gentleman. Rhett saw that Marchmont had deep brunette hair with sapphire blue eyes, a little bit darker than Bonnie's eyes were. He was perfectly dressed gentleman, proud and confident in himself, visibly aged between thirty three and thirty seven years old. Marchmont looked so aristocratic that as soon as he came, the air of nobility flooded the room. His evening attire, his manner of leading the conversation, his face and his figure – everything in him attracted attention and betrayed nobility and high class. He was wearing the black waistcoat, the black tailcoat, the white shirt, the black trousers, the lavender silky puff tie, and the black bowler hat. His hands were elegantly covered with the black silk gloves. Rhett's mind registered that there was no indifference and no restraint on his face and in his behavior: Marchmont was natural, and all his emotions were on his face.

"Good evening, Patrick," Annabelle said. She swept her eyes over Rhett, Eleanor, and Robert and announced: "May I present to you _Patrick Walter Campbell, 8th Earl of Marchmont_. This gentleman is my third cousin."

"This gentleman is my son," Marguerite supplemented.

"Marchmont is at your disposal," the Earl said and ceremoniously bowed to the guests. "Welcome to the Marchmont Hall."

"Nice to meet you, your lordship," Rhett announced and bowed. He repeated the introduction speech: "My name is Rhett Butler. This is my mother Eleanor Butler and my son Robert Butler."

"I am happy to have you today at my house," Marchmont responded with sympathy. He again elegantly bowed.

"I am delighted to get acquainted with you, Lord Marchmont," Eleanor smiled.

"I am happy to meet you, Lord Marchmont. Thank you for your hospitality," Robert said humbly. He suddenly became shy when he saw a real English Earl. He bent his head.

"Please make yourself comfortable in the house," the Earl of Marchmont declared. He turned his head and stared at Robert. He continued, as though especially for Rhett's son. His tone left no doubt that he meant what he said. "Mr Butler, please try to feel comfortable and don't feel embarrassed in front of me and in this house. We are happy to have you here."

"Thank you very much, your lordship," Robert replied. He looked at Marchmont with undisguised relief in his nearly black eyes, the eyes of the same color as Rhett's eyes were.

"Very well, Patrick," Annabelle interjected. She was going to grin at Marchmont. "Very happy we are to finally have Lord Marchmont home and in London."

"Annabelle, darling, it is your entire fault that we haven't seen each other for a long time." Marchmont smiled with lethal charm. "Each time you come here I am either busy or out of London."

"Maybe, you are just having too many parties, son," Marguerite remarked.

Lord Marchmont gave a warm smile to his mother Marguerite. "My dear mother, it is just that I like spending time with my friends," he said. He kissed Marguerite on her cheek. Then he began to speak in French, his mother's native tongue. He was speaking nearly without any accent. "_Ma chère mère, je sais que tu m'aimes avec tous mes avantages et les inconvénients (My dear__mother, I know you love me with all my benefits and drawbacks)_."

Marguerite smiled at him. "_Fils, tu es irréformable (Son, you are irreformable)_."

"Maybe, mother," Marchmont purred in his sonorous voice that was so liquid of vowels.

Annabelle smiled cunningly. "Patrick, you just need a good wife."

Marchmont grimaced. "Don't even tell me about marriage! I am not a marrying man." His blue eyes swung to Annabelle who smiled at his words. "Annabelle, this time we must go to some parties together, even if they are boring official balls at Almack's."

Annabelle's immediate nod followed. "Patrick, this time we will have more time," she confirmed.

"I hope so," the Earl of Marchmont said, his blue eyes flashing with archness. "I sorry, but I have to leave now. I wish you to have a restful night after your long journey."

Marguerite threw a quizzical look at Marchmont. "Son, where are you going?"

"White's and one more party at the Duke of Leeds's mansion," Marchmont replied shortly.

"As usual," Marguerite sighed, her heart somersaulted. "Have a pleasant night."

"Yes," Annabelle concurred, her mouth set in distinctly ironic lines. "See you tomorrow, Patrick. Don't play too much at White's."

"Annabelle, I won't lose too much," the Earl smiled and winked at her. Then he moved toward the exit from the room. "Please, don't worry."

"Have a pleasant evening, sir," Robert bowed.

"Goodnight, Lord Marchmont," Eleanor said.

"Goodbye, your lordship," Rhett said his farewell words and bowed.

"Goodnight, ladies and gentlemen," Marchmont declared and bowed. He looked at Annabelle and his mother and said: "_Mon chér, à la revoyure (My dear, goodbye)_." Then he left the room.

As Marchmont left, Annabelle stared interrogatively at Marguerite. "Marguerite, is it true what René has just said about Scarlett?" she questioned. Rhett and Eleanor were keeping silent in the anticipation of explanations. Annabelle sighed heavily. "Has she awakened and left London?"

"Yes, Annabelle. Scarlett awakened around ten days ago. I sent the telegram to you in Charleston, but, perhaps, you had already boarded the ship before the hotel received it," Marguerite said.

"How did it happen? What are the doctors saying?" Rhett asked anxiously.

Marguerite looked concerned. "Scarlett was very weak and extremely thin, bare flesh and bones."

"I can imagine," Annabelle said.

"Doctor Broussard said that she was fine and her nervous system wasn't damaged by the poison," Marguerite assured.

"Thanks Lord that she has awakened. Did she leave London? When did it happen?" Annabelle continued.

"Where did she go? Did she say something about it?" Rhett questioned.

"I don't know where Scarlett headed, probably, to Paris or somewhere else in Europe. She just said that it wasn't idle trip and that it was urgent. She left two letters, one for you, Annabelle, and one for Monsieur Butler," Marguerite replied.

"Can you please give us these letters now, darling? Marguerite, can we please arrange our guests for the rooms?" Annabelle asked in a cold, indifferent tone and her eyes went completely blank. She put on her standard mask to hide her anxiety relative to what she had just learnt about Scarlett.

"Delphine, Emma, please, show to the guests their rooms, those ones which were prepared for all of them yesterday," Marguerite instructed the maids. "Monsieur Butler and Annabelle, would you mind following me to the study room? Don't worry. Our guests will be accompanied to their rooms."

"Thank you, Madame Marguerite," Rhett drawled slowly. Although he was absent-minded and at loss of words, he didn't show it and talked extremely politely in his usual arrogantly calm tone of a well-modulated Charlestonian voice, with impersonal, unemotional face. For an instance, his heart stood hollow and then a weird fear, stronger than concern and grief, began to beat in his breast.

"Thank you, Madame de Ventadour," Eleanor Butler said.

"Thank you very much for your hospitality, Madame," Robert joined his grandmother.

Annabelle and Rhett followed Marguerite to the study room on the first floor of the grand mansion. They went down the hallway, passed the grand hall with the grey walls, the spherical, dazzling white ceiling, the dark oak furniture, the grey Aubusson carpet, and the magnificent velvet curtains on the windows. Rhett noticed that today house wasn't as dark as it was when he came here to learn about Scarlett's fate in the aftermath of the poisoning. A lot of candles were burning in various rooms, while in some rooms there was a shadowy semidarkness. Now the cold, austere Neo-Romanesque interior created a romantic, cloak-and-sword environment, bringing back an era of romance where knights had to live through marvel-filled adventures in order to save or to defend a gracious dame or to win her heart. Soon they finally entered the study room, which brought them almost in the chivalry times: two walls were heavily laden with chivalrous weapons and several suits of armor, as well as a lot of escutcheons with the Marchmont family crest.

"What a charming room it is!" Rhett exclaimed as his eyes fixed at one of the swords.

Annabelle's grey eyes swiftly ran the walls with weapons. Her eyes were laughing, her lips curved in a cheerful smile. "Marguerite, has your son Patrick gone mad? I see that the whole wall is decorated in the chivalrous themes. If my memory serves me well, when I left for the States, only one wall here was covered with these swords, spears, helmets, shields, and javelins," she paused, her gaze wandering the walls with the weapons. "I have an impression that I am in the early Middle Ages."

"You are right, darling. Patrick assumes that this study room will look so all the time coming," Marguerite elaborated. "These chivalrous objects were delivered here from the Marchmont Estate in Berwickshire, south east of Edinburgh. Patrick wants to refurbish many rooms in the castle, so that he arranged the transportation of these things to London. These weapons are not all delivered here. The remainder of them is in the cellar. As soon as the castle is refurbished, the weapons will be transported back, excluding these charming additions to interior of the study room."

"Oh, Marguerite," Annabelle breathed. "I remember the Marchmont Estate, and it is a typical medieval castle. It is very beautiful, romantic place, but everything is so specific."

"I think it is indeed rather romantic to live in the medieval castle and to have such a perfect room in your house," he commented. He liked the environment. He was smitten by the number of the chivalrous weapons on the walls.

"I guess the castle is refurbished in the same Neo-Romanesque style?" Annabelle smirked.

Marguerite shrugged. She was pure French and didn't understand her son's peculiar tastes. "Yes, it is so. I can never make Patrick renovate this house and especially the Marchmont Estate, his favorite estate, in the Gothic, the Baroque, or the Rococo styles," Marguerite added. "At least I still have some rooms in my favorite Rococo interior."

"The French are the French," Rhett grinned.

Marguerite smiled. "Exactly," she confirmed. "But my son has a lot of Scottish blood in his veins, so that the dominance of French tastes is not possible."

Annabelle laughed merrily. "For Patrick, it is true in everything, excluding fashion, life in the ton and his scandalous love escapades."

Marguerite nodded. "Unfortunately, it is also true."

"Madame de Ventadour, please tell us about Scarlett," Rhett asked impatiently. He no longer could wait.

Then a silence hung over them. Everybody was keeping silent in the anticipation of what Marguerite would say about Scarlett. Both Rhett and Annabelle were stunned because nobody of them had expected that Scarlett had already left London with unknown destination. Anxiety and sudden fear overcame Rhett's body as he didn't know why Scarlett left. He thought that she could have run away because of him and from him, and the single thought of it made his heart jumping from his thorax. Annabelle was also amazed and reserved.

Millions of questions were swirling Rhett's mind. Where did Scarlett go? Why did she leave London? Was she capable to travel after all she had to survive through in the past month? Did she take the children with her? He thought that he finally reached his shaky peace and happiness, but the peace he gained was only an outward semblance of happiness as Scarlett disappeared for whatever reason.

Marguerite sighed. "Annabelle, Monsieur Butler, these are the letters Scarlett left for both of you. Take them, please," she started and added with sad eyes, "I would say that after the calamity that transfixed Scarlett's life, she was on the verge of emotional collapse in the past ten days."

"Does she know what happened with Charles and Geoffroy? How did she react?" Annabelle asked sorrowfully.

"How did it appear that she was deeply depressed?" Rhett asked with anxiety.

"Scarlett was blown away with the news. She has always been so energetic, even when she talked and behaved in her usual manner of impersonal indifference. After she awakened, she became much colder and much more reserved than she had been before. It was a ghost of previously cold impenetrable Scarlett. But this reaction is quite understandable," Marguerite elaborated. "I don't know what will happen next and what she will decide."

"Oh my God! This is indeed a tragedy, and I know how she feels about the loss. She had to live through so many tragedies in her short life. And now this calamity," Annabelle babbled in a small voice.

"Annabelle, Scarlett was deeply depressed not only due to what happened with Charles and Geoffroy. There is one more circumstance of highly private nature. I suppose she mentioned it in her letter to you," Marguerite looked at Annabelle with a deep regret and pain in her soft brown eyes. Rhett gazed interrogatively at Marguerite, but she averted her eyes from him.

"Thank you, Marguerite. Did Scarlett take children with her?" Annabelle inquired. Rhett was listening carefully and rumpled the Scarlett's letter in impatience.

"Scarlett took both Blanche and Isabelle with their nannies, Leontine and Amelie. She couldn't travel without them. You know that she never leaves them alone for a long time."

"Indeed, she is always trying to spend all the time with them," Annabelle agreed, looking at Rhett who for an instance lost his indifference and seemed to look as a ghost of a ghost due to unexpected news of Scarlett's disappearance.

"I will make my leave now. See you all at the dinner, which is served at half past eight in the evening in the grand living room," Marguerite said calmly and left the room.

All fears and anxiety about Scarlett and her health came on Rhett and Annabelle with a new strength of a double magnitude as Marguerite's footsteps were dying away in the long hallway. Rhett unfolded the letter and started to read. The more he was reading, line by line, the more deathly pale his face was becoming.

_Rhett,_

_I hope this letter finds you well._

_Yesterday, I received a letter from my Aunts Eulalie and Pauline. As a result, at present I know about everything what happened in Charleston. I am giving to you my sincere condolences for grief and shame Silvia Dawson caused to your family._

_If Annabelle showed you my letter, you should know about our daughters and about the reasons for which I didn't tell you about them before. I don't intent to deprive you of your father's rights. By the way, we have lost the third child due to your favorite fiancée Silvia because I got pregnant by you on the day when I was poisoned. Further down the line, the above didn't make me feel emotionally enliven._

_I know that you are currently on the way to London with Annabelle. When you arrive, I will be out of London because I must make this emergent trip right away. I am taking the children with me._

_To tell you that my attitude to you ameliorated immensely would be a highly exaggerated, intelligent deception for the benefit of neither of us. I was hurt beneath my skin. Too much was shattered. I need time, and I ask you not to press me. It will make no good for both of us._

_If you want to become a legitimate father for our children, you can contact my lawyer in Paris Monsieur Pierre Jean François Blanick at Blanicks and Co. As you see, I am not afraid of the scandal._

_Understanding that you want to see your daughters, I suggest you going to my castle in Toulouse, South of France. This place is gorgeous and tranquil for the rest with the children. Let me know whether you agree with my proposal through my lawyer in Paris._

_I think you will find what to do in Europe for next several months as I suppose you took your son and mother with you._

_Have a good time and see you in the middle of September._

_Scarlett de Robillard de Bréveaux, Marquise de Bréval_

Annabelle began to read. She also looked unhappy, clasping the fingers on her left hand. Her face went bloodless. As Marguerite left the room, the mask was gone from Annabelle's pretty face, and all the emotions - a mixture of pain, grief, devilish indignation to the fate that imposed all these tragedies on her and Scarlett - were now easily readable on her face.

_Dearest Annabelle,_

_To satisfy your curiosity and concern, I feel much better now. It was a terrible month, but fate was gracious and favored me. I will be completely alright physically in some time._

_I cannot find words to show my gratitude for what I have you in my life. I love you so much that each day I thank Heaven for having you as my friend and third cousin. We are so much alike, and nobody understands me better than you, my brave grey-eyed elfin._

_Yes, a brave elfin, because your French courage turned out to be more vigorous than my much-vaunted Irish courage. From our aunts Eulalie and Pauline I know that you stopped this damned wedding in the most affectionate, scandalous way these antiquated dull Charlestonians could have ever imagined. Thank you for caring for my happiness so much._

_When you arrive in London, I will be out of this city. I need some time to rage myself down and lick my wounds. Too much blood spilled in my life, including the recent death of my child I was carrying after my shameful encounter with Rhett on the day of art event. I decided to leave before Rhett comes here. Otherwise I won't be able to suppress my rampage at him._

_Your son René is a wonder! I love him so much, like I love his mother. He is waiting for you impatiently. I will miss both of you, my dear. I am inviting you to my castle in Toulouse in the middle of September._

_Have a safe trip from London to Paris and see you soon._

_With all my warm love and loyalty to you,_

_Scarlett_

The complete enormity came over Rhett and Annabelle as they read the letters. The prolonged silence followed. As Annabelle finished reading the letter, she leaned down, put it on the nearby desk, approached the window, and stared outside. Rhett was standing in the middle of the room, motionless and speechless. Nobody of them could start speaking.

Annabelle broke the burdensome silence in the study room. "Rhett, Scarlett is completely dead emotionally now," she said in a very low voice.

Rhett glanced again at the letter in his hands. "I knew that it would happen, and Scarlett's letter proves my presentiments and anticipations. It is my entire fault." He felt how a huge lump was ascending in his throat and swallowed hard several times.

"You undoubtedly contributed atrociously to her vexation of mind," the grey-eyed French lady said.

"Scarlett doesn't want to see me in the next two months and asked for some time to cool off," Rhett answered lifelessly with vacant and dull-witted eyes.

"Rhett, I need to tell you something. It is a very intimate thing, but I reckon you need to know."

"Are you saying that she was pregnant when all this damned tragedy occurred?" a heavy sign tumbled from Rhett's lips in his perception of the newly encountered woe.

Annabelle turned around from Rhett and said wistfully: "Yes, Rhett. She had a miscarriage… It struck her like a thunder when she learnt about it upon awakening. Currently, Scarlett is somewhere near her own sanity, as it follows from her letter."

"Scarlett mentioned the same in the letter to me. God, why do we have to go through all imaginary ordeals, both physical and spiritual?" Rhett breathed heavily, settled in the nearest chair, and put his head in his hands.

"Scarlett knows about the scandal in Charleston because she received the letter from our aunts Eulalie and Pauline. She is mad at you for leaving her in London, sick and dying, defeated and repressed."

"I know that she received their letter," Rhett said calmly and little, hardly noticeable unshed tears formed in the corner of his eyes. "Oh my God, Annabelle… We lost three children…"

"Rhett, I am very sorry. I didn't know that Scarlett was pregnant. I suppose nobody knew about it before the miscarriage happened. The term of the pregnancy was too small," Annabelle approached Rhett and put a hand on his back. "Calm down. It won't be easy, and you knew about in advance."

"Annabelle, I didn't anticipate it either. If I knew in advance, I would never divorce her. Perhaps, I shouldn't say what I had said," Rhett stumbled with words.

"I know what happened between Scarlett and you on the art event. I guessed it because when I saw her it was written in her eyes. She was so happy and determined to meet you in the evening. Scarlett's intention was to tell you the truth after the event. Then we attended the firework outside the gallery and later all this calamity happened."

"Thank you, Annabelle, for telling me about it. Scarlett took our children with her, and it means that she will be absent till the end of the summer," Rhett started. He rose to his feet and began pacing the floor. "She proposed me to meet her and my daughters either in her castle in Toulouse."

"Scarlett suggested the same for me. I am worried about her health… Even I am still sick. Perhaps, you noticed it, Rhett," explanations plunged from Annabelle's mouth. "Scarlett is very weak for long journeys… I even don't know where she could go, Rhett."

"I see, Annabelle, and I wish you to recover completely as soon as possible. I am also worried about her health. She is alone and with two children. On the other hand, I understand that she is desperately searching for her peace and tranquility now," he mumbled under his breath.

"She needs time to heal her bleeding heart. There are too many scars on Scarlett's heart. I want to ask a bold question… Why did you proceed to the final stage of your marriage with Silvia?"

"My family pressed me very hard. My mother is very sick and old, and she ascertained as her last will to see me married to a proper lady and to be the head of the respectable family. Of course, she didn't know what Silvia was like. Although I am a lowdown skunk, I couldn't risk her health, Annabelle."

"I hate all these conventionalities! Damn them."

"My mother begged for me not to cancel the engagement and further ruin the reputation of the Butler family entirely in the aftermath of the great scandal associated with Robert. Together with meretricious letter from Scarlett, which Vittorio gave to me, it all crumpled me completely, and I didn't have any strength to resist." A sad smile hovered over Rhett's lips.

"I see," Annabelle's deep voice resonated. "I can imagine that Miss Eleanor pointed out that you need to preserve the reputation for Robert's sake. It is relatively understandable."

"You are a smart woman, Annabelle. When I was informed that Scarlett had died, I was completely broken and beaten. I was entirely dead, not like it was after Bonnie, but entirely dead. I was like buried alive in a large tomb. It was the worst moment in my life. It was hell on Earth," Rhett said in a small voice and closed black eyes in fatigue.

"I can imagine. It was indeed hell. When you are poisoned, it is like you are falling from the highest mountain to impalpable, hair-curling abyss." Annabelle stopped herself. She closed her eyes. "I don't want to remember about it," she murmured.

"I am sorry. Mostly importantly, you and Scarlett made it through. Now forget about it…"

"I will try. I also can imagine how you felt knowing that Scarlett was dead. It is a bone-chilly experience." She looked at her gloves that she had to wear to hide still a light-blue color of fingernails on the back of recent poisoning.

"I was disengaged from all the deals, from reality. I wanted only to join Scarlett and Bonnie. Remarkably, a thought of doing at least some honorable things in my unblessed life popped into my head. In the aggregated, all these factors contributed to this damned marriage," Rhett sighed heavily and tiredly.

"Rhett, try not to think about it. Face was gracious to you this time," Annabelle gladdened Rhett.

A muscle jumped in Rhett's jaw. "It was gracious only because of you, Annabelle. I am obliged to you for the rest of my life."

"You will pay me back at full stretch if you make Scarlett happy," a grey-lady managed a fetching smile.

"Hopefully, I will wipe debt off quite soon." His face revealed a piquant smile.

She grinned at him. "Hopefully."

"I still cannot believe that the loss was so great. We lost two children before we divorced and the third one now."

Annabelle's lips pressed together. She lifted her gaze to his and gave him a nod of understanding. "I scarcely know what to say, but I know what you felt."

"I am thanking God for our two daughters, Blanche and Isabelle, to be healthy and happy," Rhett purred in a very melodic, low voice.

"You can do it for them. You need to convince Scarlett that you love her and that she can trust you. Your daughters are little angels. I was there when Scarlett gave birth to them."

"Although I have never seen them, I love them unconditionally and more than myself. I don't know whether Scarlett told you about what I had said to her that I hadn't been sure that I had wanted to have more children with her. I suppose you know." Turning to look at Annabelle, he smiled mellowly, his eyes shining bright and face muscles relaxed.

"Scarlett informed me about your fabulous declaration," Annabelle chuckled and looked at Rhett accusingly. "It was your mistake. She would have told the truth to you if you hadn't said these atrocious words. If the truth was disclosed to you seven months ago, this bloodcurdling tragedy wouldn't probably have happened."

"Don't forget that Scarlett ran away from me. If she hadn't done it, I would have elucidated on everything to her when she was in Charleston," Rhett responded, furrowing his brows. "I planned to cancel my engagement to Silvia, but was unable to do it due to Scarlett's sickness. She was shot on the back of the unexpected attack on Tara and spent near deathbed oblivion more than two weeks. I couldn't leave her bedside because she could die and I was afraid of losing her."

"I know, Rhett. I appeal to you to remember your gorgonian treatment of Scarlett before the divorce. Rhett, when Scarlett got married to Mathieu, every wound on her heart gave stings like fire. She was beaten by your behavior and Bonnie's death, but not broken. She had and has so many scars on her heart."

"I feel deeply ashamed for what I have done to her. I have already apologized for everything, but I know that it is not enough. After Bonnie's death I was completely crazy. I thought the pain would never pass." Rhett's thoughts were in the revelation outbreak as he spoke out in deep, repentant voice.

"Over time you usually get accustomed to pain."

Rhett's eyes fixed at one of the swords and nearby helmet on the wall decorated with the weapon. "At times it is so good to have so many weapons in your house," he nearly sung. Then he laughed.

Annabelle frowned, her eyes on him. "I don't like medieval topics in the interior of the houses. My ideal is the Baroque style or the Rococo style."

"It is because you are so French in your blood."

"My mother was English," she clarified. "But you are right that I am more French than English."

"Oh, I see," Rhett said. "But I like something less whimsical and less arty-crafty, like the Gothic style, the Renaissance style, or the Romanesque style."

"_Chaque homme à son idiome propre gout__ (__Every man to his own taste)_," Annabelle said in French, uncertain whether to be charmed or insulted.

Rhett's black eyes swung from Annabelle to the wall with the weapons, fixing on the sword. "If you feel pain, you can simply take the sword and ease your pain," he grinned. But it wasn't a pleasant grin.

"I don't think that it is the best you can do to ease pain," she contradicted.

"Probably." Rhett smiled ambiguously, his eyes still scanning the weapons. "The failure of our marriage is our mutual fault. I was a coward to recognize it even to myself. Unfortunately, I was sure that if I had divested myself from Scarlett, my scars would have cicatrized and I would have forgotten her. The first year after the divorce was especially difficult for me. I drank myself to death each day so that I could forget about my guilt for Bonnie's death and rip out of my heart our destructive love."

"Rhett, I comprehend you. When my son and husband died eight years ago, I also was emotionally dead. I wished for myself to be killed somewhere in the dark street of Paris or catch plague in order to leave this perishing, inequitable world. I couldn't sleep, breathe, eat, talk… I hated everything and everybody… The only desire was to be alone in the darkness and preferably in the tomb. But over time my ache eased."

"I am sorry for your loss, Annabelle."

"Thank you," she said softly.

"When you told about this tragedy in the church to all of us, a dreadful cold pierced my heart. You are a very strong personality because you could have survived through this calamity."

Rhett rubbed his cheek and looked at Annabelle, as if she was his very close friend in his grief and sorrow. She smiled to him. It was fabulous that she understood him. Indeed, she had the same tragedy when she had lost her soon. She had the same feelings, the same pain, and the same despair. She also survived and learned to leave with this pain.

"Thank you, Rhett. You, Scarlett, and I lived through the same kind of tragedy."

"We understand each other pretty well," he remarked good-humoredly.

"The major drawback in our relations with Scarlett was that we had allowed grief to tear apart the bonds between us. I mean the mutual bonds that arose before we lost our unborn child on the stairs. And later the bonds that I lacerated roughly and without remorse, not giving my wife a chance to prove her love," Rhett confided.

"Rhett, the last bonds were ruined due to your mutual fault. Scarlett was too stubborn to confess to you that she was pregnant. She came to Charleston to you, but the conversation wasn't written in the stars to happen at that time. However, she could have written a letter to you, but she chose to hide the fact from you. You had the right to at least know that she was carrying your child," she replied firmly.

Rhett rubbed his cheek. "It is so complicated."

"Maybe, she could have told you in some other ways, by sending the letter as I mentioned. She is just too stubborn and proud to relinquish her dignity and make the first step. But, honestly, if I were in Scarlett's shoes, I wouldn't tell you either in order to punish you. However, I admit that it is, perhaps, a mistake."

"Annabelle, I didn't give her a chance. I understand why she didn't tell me about it earlier. I degraded and mortified her in my cursed madness in order to dull my pain and stop loving her. It is my fault." Rhett was convinced in the truthfulness of his words.

"It is good to hear that you don't harbor malice on Scarlett for not telling you about children. Your children are gift from Heaven," she laughed out loud openly and sincerely. "Scarlett says that Isabelle is a future noblewoman and a queen, while Blanche is a great leader."

"I want to see my daughters so much. I was a fat-brained, bullheaded skunk when I proposed her to marry me and added that I didn't want children," Rhett said regrettably.

"Annabelle, now I see why you are Scarlett's best friend. You are too much alike." Rhett nodded, winking at her. "In sober fact, you, Scarlett, and I are very alike much in many aspects. We are black apples in a crop in this old-fashioned, immensely irksome society."

"Yes, we are very much alike, for our own both good and bad," she answered half musingly, half dreamily.

"I agree," Rhett said. He stared ahead at the wall decorated with the chivalrous weapons. "I am happy that you and Scarlett are such close friends."

A smile stirred Annabelle's thin lips. "I am also happy. I love Scarlett from the bottom of my heart."

Rhett also smiled. "Oh, Annabelle! Scarlett is a lucky lady to have you as a friend." Indeed, he was happy that they were friends.

"Thank you, Rhett."

"Scarlett didn't have many friends in the South," he said. "Probably, such people like we can have true friends only among similar blackguards. Alternatively, we can make friends among great ladies and gentlemen living in accordance with medieval code of chivalry because such people are simply too spiritually gracious to believe that others may be cads."

Annabelle's grey eyes fixed on the chivalrous weapon and she smiled. "In fact, blackguards can be happy together and have a successful, life-long marriage, if they are allies and understand each other. Unfortunately, this strategy wasn't assayed in practice by you and Scarlett."

Rhett signed heavily and rose to his feet. "We are blackguards seeking out new companions who will both understand our behavior and who will torment us with similar failures and transgressions."

She nodded. "Excellent statement. Right to the point."

Rhett stared at her. "May I push this armchair closer to the fireplace?"

A wide smirk assailed Annabelle's pale face, her grey eyes twinkled uncertainly. "Certainly, Rhett. You don't need to ask. Feel as if you are at home, my dear blackguard from the Old South."

Rhett settled himself in the armchair in front of a large fireplace and was glazing at burning down sparkles. "As you wish, Madame," he grinned and laughed out warmly.

"Thank you, sir," she mocked.


	55. Chapter 55

**Chapter 55**

**In London: Rhett and Annabelle's heart-to-heart talk and the Robillard cousins**

A short pause followed. Annabelle watched in silence as Rhett continued to stare at her without even blinking.

"Your son René is a very nice boy," Rhett said.

"René is my out-of-wedlock child. When he was born, I was married to _Emmanuel Alexandre Augustin de Fleuriau, 14th Count de Morville._ Emmanuel was my late husband. René's real father is another man."

Rhett cocked an eyebrow. "Another man?"

Unable to look at Rhett, Annabelle turned her back to him and wrapped her arms protectively around her body. "René's father is _François Maximilien Xavier de Montmorin, 9th Marquis de Saint-Hérem and 14th Baron de Villeneuve._ In 1870, François and I had been lovers for around a year," she said in a steady voice that betrayed her anxiety.

"Your late husband died, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did. _Count Emmanuel de Morville_ died five years ago," she declared. She paused for an instance and drew a deep breath. "When I told you, your mother, and Robert about the terrible time for the Robillards on the back terror organized by _the Paris Commune,_ I didn't want to reveal to everybody how Emmanuel had died. Emmanuel committed a suicide in October 1871. He killed himself because he had huge debt and no money to repay it," she again stopped and sighed, but no relief came. "Emmanuel killed himself because I was very cruel and indifferent to him. I had kicked him out of my bedroom in several days after the wedding took place."

Rhett whistled. "In several days after the exchange of marital vows?"

"Yes," she nodded. "I did it because I had met François in several days after the wedding. I became demented as fate played a cruel joke with me. Imagine that I met François so soon after I had got married to Emmanuel. François and I were attracted to each other from the first sight – it was like explosion of feelings for us."

"Oh God!"

"Rhett, our marriage was an utter hell. I am the only person to be blamed for it."

"Annabelle, don't forget that while your husband Emmanuel had fled Paris before you were imprisoned in the Conciergerie. As I understand, you were arrested because he had harshly criticized in public the activities of _the Paris Commune_. You were arrested as his wife, only for the connection with him."

"Exactly," she nodded. "Rhett, believe me that I will never forget those several months I spent in the Conciergerie. Being sentenced to guillotine isn't a very pleasant feeling. I didn't want to be beheaded like _Queen Marie Antoinette_."

"God forbid, Annabelle." His voice trembled. "Your late husband Emmanuel was a damned coward. Why did you marry him?"

"I got married to Emmanuel because he seemed to be very rich. In sober fact, his wealth was only facade and he had a huge debt. I always got married to rich men. At that time I was a fool."

Rhett averted his gaze from her. Disgust slashed through him. She acted like Scarlett. "The Robillards aren't rich, aren't they?"

"The Robillards are very rich. It is one of the richest families in France."

"When why did you do it?"

Annabelle raised her chin. "Are you questioning why I got married only to rich noblemen?"

"Yes."

"It is because my parents were very greedy and wanted me to join the convent," Annabelle answered genuinely.

Rhett turned to look at her. The corner of his mouth was quirked up. That half-smile sent another prickle down her spine. Yet, he looked bewildered. "You and a nun? Impossible!"

Annabelle smiled vaguely. "I agree."

"Why did they want it from you?"

"You see," she began. "All my siblings died in early childhood after the epidemic of smallpox in Normandy where I spent my childhood. Only I survived. And my mother couldn't have more children. So my parents wanted me to become a nun. They raised me to join the convent. I countered them as much as I could. Because of their terrible idea I didn't have beautiful dresses and jewelry when I was sixteen years old. In addition, my life at home was unbearable. So I had to flee _Normandie_, and thus I got married to a very old rich man – _Paul Josselin Lionel de Belsunce, 8th Marquis de Castelmoron_. He was sixty years old. Soon we moved to Paris."

Rhett's voice was cracking. "Sixty?" He faltered with words in shock.

"Yes," Annabelle laughed out. "It was disgusting. But I didn't care. What I cared about was how to escape my parents' household. And when _Marquis Paul de Castelmoron_ proposed, I accepted."

Rhett nodded. "I understand. He was very old for you."

"I am sorry, but when Paul died, I wasn't very upset. During our marriage, he tormented me. Well, he was old, and it is understandable," Annabelle confessed.

"At least I understand you," Rhett said gently.

"And then I got married to a young handsome nobleman whom met at _Napoleon III's_ court. My second husband was _Etienne Adrien Victurnien de Lomenie, 11th Count de Brienne._ Etienne was a star at the _Napoleon III's_ court. But it wasn't the most important thing about him. He was the best among my husbands. He was madly in love with me. He even cancelled his engagement with Sibylle, _Venus of__Compiègne_ as she was nicknamed by the courtiers. He left her on the day when he confessed that he had been madly in love with me. It happened in a month after our first dance at the party in Versailles. The termination of his engagement produced a terrible scandal in the society because it was only about a month and a half left before the wedding."

"_Count Etienne de Brienne_ was over head and ears in love with you, Annabelle."

"Yes. Etienne was devotedly in love with me," she continued. "I liked and respected him. He gave me my dear son Lancelot. I never had any love affairs with other men when I was married to Etienne. I had never betrayed him. If I hadn't met François and Etienne had been alive, I could have even fallen in love with Etienne. He was so wonderful. I was happy with him. But later Etienne and my son Lancelot were poisoned, and I was heartbroken and devastated."

"Annabelle," Rhett said in a soft voice. "Don't remember that tragedy. Don't cause yourself more pain."

"You are right."

"And your next husband should also be rich, shouldn't he?"

"I will never have a new husband," she shot back without any hesitation. "I could marry only François. Other men were and are out of consideration."

"Forget it, Annabelle. It is in the past."

"It is difficult to forget."

"I know. But you must forget."

"I will try." She cast a grace-filled gaze at Rhett. "Only recently I have officially adopted René. Probably, you know about the current scandal around my name and the Robillard name too."

"I know about it. The same happened with me when I claimed Robert."

"The scandal is tremendous, but, fortunately, it has been eased by the recent poisoning and several new scandalous adulteries. However, Jean-Baptiste is enraged and threatened to squander my part of his great fortune, which he planned to give me after his death. However, I have enough money and I don't care for his wealth. My money is my own."

"Do you mean Count Jean-Baptiste de Robillard?"

"I mean Jean-Baptiste, but you are mistaken in his title. He is _Jean-Baptiste Edmond Alexandre de Robillard, 13th Count de Bréveaux_." Annabelle drawled the long French name.

Rhett averted his gaze. "I am sorry." He didn't like these formalities, but in France it was necessary to address to or refer to the titles nobles correctly.

"Jean-Baptiste is the eldest from the Robillard family. He is Pierre Robillard's cousin. As he says, he loves me as his own granddaughter, although he has two blood daughters. He has always treated me with a special delicacy, but now he hates me in the aftermath of the last scandal. After Jean-Baptiste's death his grandson will inherit the title as Jean-Baptiste's son died six years ago."

"Why do you use _de Bréveaux_?"

"It is because in the States the descendants of the Robillards simplified their name. The full name in France has always been for us the _de Robillard de Bréveaux. _The Robillards accepted the title of _Count de Bréveaux_ several centuries ago. Earlier they had been honored as _Chevaliers de Saint-Louis _and _Viscounts de Bréveaux _for some time. There are also the titles of a Viscount and three titles of a baron for the Robillard-Bréveaux's males, granted on the basis of their place in the bloodline and some other criteria."

"Everything is so difficult in France," Rhett sighed and smiled ironically.

"Yes, it is. The same for nobles is in England."

"Am I correct that a woman can get the official title only by getting married? I am not a great expert in French nobility."

"You are right. I cannot inherit the Robillard title of the Count. Therefore, I am Countess de Morville in accordance with my late husband's title, like Scarlett is Marquise de Bréval. But currently, in the time of the _Third Republic of France,_ it no longer matters."

"Yes, everything is only on paper because the ideas and the ideals of the Republic won."

"Rhett, if you ever come to Paris, we will introduce you to the Robillards. We can even do it in Toulouse as I am sure that Jean-Baptiste will be there in the middle of September."

"It would be interesting to meet the Robillards, Annabelle. Don't worry – you did everything correct when you claimed your son. Besides, I am sure that the part of the great Robillard fortune wouldn't be lost for you. Eventually it will be given to you once newsmongers find another topic to twittle-twattle and Jean-Baptiste calms down."

"I don't care about it, Rhett. I did what I had to do and wanted to do." A come-hither smile brightened Annabelle's face.

"Exactly."

"René's father François is the only true love I have ever had."

"You are like me. You know I had claimed Robert."

"Yes, I know."

Annabelle shook her head slowly. "Good heavens. That was quite an act from your side."

Rhett drew himself up haughtily. "I beg your pardon."

"An act," she repeated. "We didn't expect you to claim your son."

"You and Scarlett thought that I was an utter bastard. Is that so?"

"No, Rhett," she said. "We just didn't expect such actions from your side."

"Where is François? Does he know about his son?" Rhett asked softly.

"I thought that François had been killed in _the Franco-Prussian war of 1870-1871_," Annabelle stated.

"And he wasn't killed," Rhett finished.

She gave him a node. "Yes."

"Where is _Marquis __François __de Saint-Hérem_?"

"Scarlett found out that he was alive and resided somewhere in Austria, maybe, in Vienna," Annabelle declared. Unusual glimmer appeared in her beautiful grey eyes. "However, he didn't contact me in the past five years. He doesn't even know about René. When he left for the war, I was pregnant, but I didn't know about it yet."

"How did Scarlett learn about François's destiny? I thought that you had better connections among European aristocracy as you were born in this class," Rhett glanced at Annabelle quizzically.

"Scarlett found François because _Frédéric Philippe Auguste de Harlay, 15th Marquis de Bréval and 16th Count de Cesy_, who is _Marquis Mathieu de Bréval's_ cousin, helped her. Monsieur Frédéric had served at the Command Headquarters of French army during _the Franco-Prussian War of 1870-1871_." Annabelle paused and inhaled. She glanced away. "If François didn't managed to find me in the past six years, then it means that he had never loved me." Another pause followed. "In May 1870, we planned to run away together from Paris, but I was such a coward to leave my last husband because of society rules and fear of losing my husband's money. My greediness cankered me."

Annabelle finished her sad personal story. She didn't look at Rhett, obviously abstracted in the world of her tragic memories. She lied that her greediness and social rules drove her away from her beloved François. Then she looked up at Rhett with an expression of startled alarm in her face. She hoped that there were no hints of lie in her voice. In reality, her life story was so tragic that she was afraid to remember it even by herself. And, of course, she didn't indent to share all those tragedies with Rhett, in some aspects forced tragedies and dramas.

"Annabelle, if you love François so much, you must fight for him. Go and get him in Austria. You need to tell him about his son."

"No, Rhett, I cannot do it. Being alive, François refrained from any contacts with me in the past six years."

"Perhaps, François thought that you were still married to your late husband… Sorry, I forgot his name."

"I don't know. Maybe, he thought so or maybe not." She shrugged. "It doesn't matter now."

"Annabelle, don't act so. You need to find him. You must fight for your love," he handed a verdict.

Annabelle grinned at him. "Why should I pounce at the great _Marquis François de Saint-Hérem_ now after so many years passed?"

Rhett stared at her with an attentive gaze. "You must find him because you love him."

Annabelle didn't agree with Rhett. She was going to contradict him. "Rhett, I am a woman and he is a man! It is not me, but him who must search for me."

"I am sure there was some sort of inapprehension in this long chain of events, Annabelle."

Annabelle's grey eyes were shooting fire. "No, Rhett! I won't even try to find him. Don't persuade me."

"Annabelle, you are taking the same cowardice road as I took with Scarlett. You are running from yourself. Remember that you can regret about it."

Annabelle glanced away. "I will never regret about it. I know it for sure." She couldn't tell the truth why she couldn't find François. It was too painful for her. She had to push him away because fate was very cruel to her and didn't leave her with any room for other any choice. But the reasons why she rejected François were her dreadful secret she had been keeping for the last six years.

"You have his son," Rhett said. "You must let him know that you have his son."

Annabelle shook her head in disagreement. "It doesn't matter. My son doesn't need François."

He only sighed. "You are incorrect, Annabelle."

Annabelle raised her hand to make him silent. She spoke lightly while her heart beat too hard. "Rhett, I don't want to talk about it. I am not intending to find François, and it is my final decision."

"It is your life, Annabelle." Rhett shrugged. Then Rhett's mind replayed René's little face, and Rhett smiled involuntary. "I guess that your son René resemblances his father in his appearance."

"René is a small copy of his father," she confirmed. "Each time I look at him I remember François."

Rhett smiled. "René is a charming young boy."

"Thank you, Rhett," she said humbly. "Rhett, what are you going to do with Scarlett?"

"I am done with this miserable life, and so does Scarlett. I won't let her flee from herself if she plans to do it this time," Rhett clarified in a confident sonorous voice. "I intend to marry her and make her happy. I intend to show her that running away isn't an option in our situation because it results in greater heartache and living a life of a ghost. In the meantime, I won't press her and I will act like she requested."

"This is a good strategy. You need to talk to her and explain why you finally proceeded to the marriage with Silvia. I am sure that she blames you harshly for it," the grey-eyed French lady added.

"I know."

"Do you plan to wait till the middle of September as Scarlett requested?" Annabelle raised her eyebrows in a question. "I think she would love to go to her chateau in Toulouse. There will be a glorious masked ball in Toulouse at that time, one of the best the South of France."

"I am convinced that Scarlett loves such balls, especially given her general aptitude to extravagant things."

"Yes, Rhett," Annabelle's lips twisted in a beautiful, broad smile.

"I won't press Scarlett and will give her time. Meanwhile, I plan to talk to that Italian picaroon Vittorio if he is still in London. I will also contact Scarlett's lawyers in Paris as she stated the contact details in the letter," Rhett spoke out crispy.

"Is the lawyer _Monsieur Pierre Jean François Blanick at Blanicks and Co_?"

"Yes, he is. I have realized that, although Scarlett and I would never return to our pre-grief state, we, however, would eventually find joy in life in new ways that we invent," Rhett promulgated and smiled broadly in his usual charming nature.

"Pierre is a good lawyer, and he should be able to help you with all the paperwork brilliantly," she said simply.

"I hope so."

Annabelle grinned at Rhett. "You seem to be yourself now, Monsieur Butler."

"I don't intend to look at my wilting head and contemplate its slow graying. My aim is to spend the rest of my life with Scarlett and my children," Rhett announced loudly, and a faint smile stirred his lips.

"I want Scarlett to be happy, Rhett. Make her happy."

"I will do my best, Annabelle. Madame de Robillard, every loss and heartache carry with them the seed on an equal or greater benefit, don't they?" Rhett mocked.

"Monsieur Butler, life with you will never be dull. Scarlett is a lucky woman," Annabelle granted to Rhett almost refulgent smile.

"If you deny love that you feel and that is given to you, the real loss will be much greater," Rhett delivered his final speech. "It is my major lesson from my relations with Scarlett."

"Rhett, why are you so frank with me?"

"Do you find it unusual?"

"Yes, I do. The reason is that you are a very reserved, cold person who won't trust to everybody."

"Annabelle, you helped Scarlett and me so much that I find it quite usual to talk about private things with you. I mean private facts of my life with Scarlett. Anyway, you know everything about this story," he replied truthfully.

"Thank you, Rhett. You are right that I know many things about you and Scarlett."

Suddenly, Rhett asked straightforwardly: "Annabelle, you support the Monarchists in France, don't you?"

"Why are you asking?" She was at loss. She didn't like the topic after the times of the bloody _Paris Commune_.

Rhett narrowed his black eyes, casting Annabelle a sullen glower. "I asked because it can be quite dangerous. France is torn apart by the struggle between the Monarchists and the Republicans, and the Opportunistic Republicans will win the battle."

"I don't care for politics and the Monarchists." Her tone wasn't both confident and convincing, and she knew it. Her companion admitted the provocation, and she was worried over it. In reality, she cared for the Monarchists and even supported their activities financially. But she didn't think that she had to talk to Rhett about that topic. She didn't do something illegal or immoral.

"I see," he drawled.

"Aren't you tired, Rhett?" Annabelle said in an emotionless voice that sounded far away from her usual tone.

"No, I am fine, Annabelle. Thank you." He lowered voice and turned away from her, silently guessing what will happen next. Now his rising concern over the topic was undeniable.

The tense silence hung over them in the room. In this pressing still semi-darkness, nobody spoke, thinking about what they have just discussed. Rhett knew that she didn't want to talk about it by trying to outmaneuver him and change the subject of the conversation. Annabelle stared outside the window and was also keeping silent, afraid of the slightest movement and gesture. The door opened noiselessly, and René suddenly ran into the study room, which preserved Annabelle from Rhett's further questions. She was happy that René came in time.

"Mother, mother! Where are you?" René called. He was very enthusiastic about Annabelle's arrival.

Annabelle smiled at her son. "Darling, I was busy. I was talking to Uncle Rhett." She leaned down and kissed her son on the forehead.

"Let's go to my room to unwrap the presents," René asked.

"I am so sorry for not being with you. Let's go to your room right now. After we unwrap the presents, you will go to bed as a good boy," she kissed her son on his cheek and embraced him tightly.

René gripped Annabelle's hand. "Uncle Rhett, have a nice evening. It is very nice to meet you and, please, feel yourself as if you are at home."

Rhett smiled softly at the boy's pure aristocratic manners. Although René was only a five-year-old boy, he knew all the rules of French etiquette and was an epitome of a young French aristocrat. His movements were very gracious and mannered. It was evident that when the boy grows up, he would have a remarkable appearance, but his handsomeness would most likely to be unusual and even exotic as little René didn't have features of a Roman or a Greek God. Rhett was especially stunned with the color of the boy's hair – blue-black hair that appeared to shine a little silver-blue in rays of the sun. Together with his amber eyes, his blue-black hair made his appearance very memorable. Rhett decided that the boy was very similar to his father _Marquis François de Saint-Hérem_.

"Thank you, René. Goodnight, my boy," Rhett said with a warm smile.

René bowed to Rhett. "Goodnight, Uncle Rhett."

As he said that, René headed to the door and opened it. He felt the study room and ran in the direction of the grand hall. Annabelle looked at the door for half a minute, smiling at her dear son who was her marvel, a gift from Heaven.

"I am also leaving, Rhett."

Rhett sighed. "I was a long day."

"Goodnight, Rhett. I hope it won't be another restless night for you," Annabelle said standing at a doorway. "I need not engage your silence, I am sure."

"Goodnight, Annabelle. See you tomorrow," Rhett answered with a note of cold agreement in his voice.

Rhett leapt to his feet, extracted a fine cigar from the silver monogrammed case, and lit it. Stepping back to the chair, he settled himself and was immediately immersed in his thoughts. He sank his chin in his cravat and gazed abstractedly in the emptiness of the room.

As Annabelle left Rhett alone, she and René went to René's bedroom. They played in the war as René liked the games with soldiers. As she arranged René for night sleep, she decided that she could find _Patrick Walter Campbell, 8th Earl of Marchmont_, her third cousin and her dear friend, and go to the party with him. She wanted his community as he was one of the few people who knew all the truth about her life. Annabelle remembered that he was going to White's and then to the Duke of Leeds's mansion - the Leeds Hall.

Annabelle returned to her large bedchamber in the Rococo style and went to the dressing room. She chose the evening attire for the party and drew a bell for her maid Mathilde. As Mathilde came, Annabelle undressed with great pleasure as she was bored with her travel dress, consisting of the jacket and the skirt costume with the medium-length train trimmed with pleated frills and ruching.

Mathilde helped Annabelle put the drawers, the slip, the petticoat, the underskirt, the camisole, and finally the gorgeous evening gown. Annabelle looked at herself into the mirror and smiled as she really liked her appearance. She thanked her maid, took her royal blue Italian purse, and went downstairs. She passed through the grand hall with the austere Neo-Romanesque décor and went to the dining room. She found Rhett, Robert, Eleanor, and Marguerite at the dinner table having late dinner.

Rhett's black eyes fixed on Annabelle. "Annabelle, you look beautiful," he commented.

Indeed, the fashionable tight evening gown of royal blue color made Annabelle's classical beauty shine brighter. Despite her excessive slimness and a little unhealthy general view, she looked very beautiful and alluring. Her evening gown was made from Italian royal blue velvet, with the medium-high neckline and the long train embroiled in the Arabesque style. The front of the skirt was trimmed with three flounces of Venetian lace, and above them there were two silky lines of two shades - blue, one shade being the same as that of the skirt, and the other slightly darker. The lace silky scarf fell gracefully over the folds of the gown. The sleeves consisted entirely of feather and narrow lace, reaching the shoulder. Annabelle's hair was arranged in an updo at the back of the head and supplemented by two loops of hair leading from the front of the hair, in accordance with the Victorian style. The small diamond silver tiara adorned her head, accompanied by the silver diamond earrings, the Asscher cut diamond necklace, and the silver diamond bracelet on her right hand.

"Thank you, Rhett," she answered.

"Annabelle, are you leaving?" Marguerite asked.

Annabelle nodded. "Yes, I am. I am going to catch up with Patrick at the Duke of Leeds's party. It is one of the few really good parties in this time when it is not the height of the season and we don't have many parties in London."

"Annabelle, please tell Patrick that I want to talk to him at midday tomorrow. I don't want to see him sleeping the whole day as usual," Marguerite said.

"I will tell Patrick," Annabelle answered. "I think that the Duke of Aylesbury will also be here," she added.

Marguerite shook her head. "No, he won't. Philippe is off to the continent. He departed from London to Paris and then somewhere else to Europe."

Annabelle blinked. "Oh, I didn't know."

Marguerite smiled. "Perhaps, you will meet Philippe's sons. I think that Jasper, Morgan, Christopher, and Jacob will be at the party. If you meet them, please send them my regards," she asked gently. "I am sure that his daughters Genevieve and Madeleine won't be there."

"Of course, Marguerite," Annabelle responded.

Rhett didn't remember that the Duke of Aylesbury had four sons and two daughters. He didn't know him well and didn't have close contacts with him. He remembered Aylesbury from the past as he met him on many balls and routs in London several years ago. Once we met Aylesbury in Paris on one of the private parties. Another time by chance Rhett encountered Aylesbury at one of the Chelsea-based brothels, but Aylesbury went there to find his friend the Duke of Lauderdale and quickly left. He didn't know much about Aylesbury, but something made him interested in that mysterious English aristocrat who was so widely spoken about among the European beau monde.

Rhett smiled. He considered Lord Marchmont to be an entertaining man. "Annabelle, I wish you to have a good evening," he said sincerely.

"Thank you, Rhett," Annabelle retorted.

"Goodnight, Annabelle," Marguerite wished.

"Goodnight, Madame Annabelle," Robert and Eleanor said in unison.

Annabelle left the Marchmont Hall and headed to the Leeds Hall. She was happy that the place of destination wasn't far from the Marchmont Hall. Soon the carriage stopped near the three-storied Gothic mansion, and Annabelle stepped of the carriage. She smiled to the majordomo who opened the door for her and went inside the house. Without another word or look at the guests in the parlor, Annabelle went inside the mansion and strolled with seeming casualness toward the brilliantly lit doors of the ballroom.

Annabelle was looking for Lord Marchmont. As she walked into the ballroom, she began studying elegantly dressed people. Dressed in the fashionable evening royal blue gown, Annabelle de Robillard crossed the dance floor unescorted, which wasn't very typical phenomenon in Victorian England. Annabelle saw that many guests looked at her with curiosity, and whisperings began among the matrons. Bewitched by both her boldness and her eccentricity, many gentlemen were bowing to Annabelle and smiled at her, and she also managed sweet smiles in response. Her eyes registered that some guests, especially middle-aged and old matrons, shot killing glances at her.

Indeed, Annabelle came to the party when she was supposed to be sick, fragile, and in her bed. Nobody expected her to appear in the ton and all the more unescorted. She didn't breach the rules of mourning because in Victorian England the period of mourning for first and more distant cousins was supposed to be four weeks: _Marquis Geoffroy de Boisy_ was her second cousin and more than two months passed since the poisoning at the art event. However, it was still uncommon for a lady who nearly died to appear at public events so soon, especially in the ton of England, in which fragile, delicate beauty was considered to be ideal. Annabelle had never been fragile – she had been a strong survivor. She was Annabelle de Robillard, and her name meant that she had never been and would never be like other people who lived in accordance with the strict rules of Victorian England. She was one of the most eccentric women in the ballroom.

Annabelle's grey eyes fixed on the gentleman in the dark blue evening attire in the corner of the ballroom. He was standing near Lord Marchmont. She recognized that he was the master of the dinner party, _George Godolphin Osborne, 9th Duke of Leeds._ Happy to find her third cousin so quickly, Annabelle stepped forward and approached the Duke of Leeds and the Earl of Marchmont.

"Annabelle, darling, I didn't expect to see you here!" Lord Marchmont said with a wide smile.

The Duke of Leeds made a deep bow to Annabelle. "Madame Annabelle de Robillard! What a pleasant surprise to see you here!" he exclaimed, his dark eyes sparkling.

"Good evening, your Grace," she purred. "My dear Patrick, I finally found you."

Marchmont grinned. "Yes, I am here. I just arrived from White's."

"I am not astonished," Annabelle remarked. Her gaze shifted to Leeds. "Your Grace, I have just arrived from the United States. However, I didn't want to stay at Patrick's great house and decided to come here."

Lord Marchmont smiled at her words as he knew that Annabelle had never understood his preference for the strict, dark Neo-Romanesque style, which reminded the Middle Ages.

"Oh, Lord! Madame de Robillard, I hope you are feeling well after that dreadful poisoning and after the journey," the Duke of Leeds said. "The ton of London was buzzing about the monstrous poisoning at the art event in the National Gallery."

Annabelle's smiled faded away as she recalled the tragic consequences of the poisoning. "I am feeling much better, your Grace. Thank you for your sincere concern."

Lord Marchmont was looking at them and keeping silent.

The Duke of Leeds was a shrewd man and realized that she was thinking about Geoffroy and Charles's death. He sighed heavily. "Madame de Robillard, please accept my sincere condolences for the loss of two people who were so dear for you," he said sincerely.

"Thank you, your Grace." Annabelle saw that other guests were looking at her with interest and even with condemnation that she went to the party when she had to be in mourning. She glared at the Duke of Leeds. "Your Grace, I am sorry that I appeared at your dinner party without any invitation and notification. I just wanted to find Patrick and some other Robillard-Ardens."

The Duke of Leeds realized that Annabelle was probably embarrassed that she had come to the party so unceremoniously and so unexpectedly. However, Leeds had always known that Annabelle had been an unconventional lady, a lady who had a tragic life story because the whole high society of Europe knew that her second husband _Count Etienne de Brienne_ and her little son had been poisoned in 1868 during the Christmas ball at _Napoleon III's_ residence in Paris – _the Élysée Palace._ Being a gentleman of relaxed manners and a man of a gold heart, he deeply sympathized to Annabelle. He even realized why she wasn't wearing the mourning gown as he had always thought himself that mourning was in soul and in hear, not in clothes.

"Madame de Robillard, mourning is in our hearts, not in our clothes and manners," the Duke of Leeds said. "I am happy to meet you here."

Annabelle's face brightened up. "Thank you, your Grace."

Leeds bowed to Annabelle and Marchmont. "Madame de Robillard and Patrick, I have to pay attention to other guests. I am leaving you now. See you during the evening."

As the Duke of Leeds walked away from them and Annabelle and Patrick were left alone, Patrick offered her his hand and they walked in the direction of several reception rooms in the north wing of the mansion. They stopped in one of the rooms and took two glasses of champagne Moët et Chandon. They finally stood near the window and stared outside in the garden.

"I am so glad that the Duke of Leeds is such a kind, understanding gentleman," Annabelle said.

Marchmont smiled at her statement. "Annabelle, Leeds has always been a kind man. He is not like other members of the ton. He will never condemn and wish something bad."

Annabelle sipped champagne. "I don't know him. I know only that he is the Duke of Aylesbury's dear friend."

"Aylesbury and Leeds were studying together at Oxford," Marchmont retorted, sipping champagne. "Tell me about your trip to the States. I have heard that the murderess committed a suicide in the Church."

"Holy mackerel! I didn't know that the ton of England knows about it!" Annabelle cried out.

The Earl of Marchmont smirked. "Sister, such news travels very fast, even from monotonous Charleston."

"Brother, gossipmongers are irreformable."

"Annabelle, please tell me the story straight from the source."

Annabelle told Marchmont the whole story how she appeared in Charleston on the day of Rhett Butler's wedding and how she stopped the wedding in the church. She also told him how Silvia Dawson killed herself in the Church. Besides, Annabelle shared with him her suspicions that something was messed up in the story because the poison in Silvia's medallion was different from the Medici's cooper sulphate she usually used in killing people. Marchmont agreed with her that the story might have its continuation.

Marchmont's white teeth flashed in the dim light. "What a story! Great! I would love to be in the Church at that moment."

"Oh, Patrick! These boring Charlestonians will forever remember that terrible story about the Butlers."

"Sister, I am sure that they will never forget it." His sapphire blue eyes were dancing with imps. "You have always been a very bold, extravagant lady."

Annabelle's thin lips turned thinner in a sarcastic smile. "Brother, you are the most notorious man from _les sauvages nobles_! We are both bold and unconventional, Patrick!"

He winked at her. "Don't get so steamed-up!"

Annabelle sipped champagne. "Oh, I was just joking."

"You know that Scarlett left London," Marchmont said. He sipped champagne.

She gave a nod. "Yes."

"What is going to happen between Scarlett and her former husband?"

"I don't know. They must talk," Annabelle expressed her opinion. "Where did Scarlett go?"

"I don't know. She said that in Paris and somewhere else in Europe in order to regain her health."

Annabelle finished the glass of champagne. "How interesting and unexpected," she murmured.

"As interesting as many nights I spent at White's and at the boudoirs of many other ladies," Marchmont jeered. He finished off his glass of champagne. He took an empty glass from Annabelle's hands and put two empty glasses on the windowsill.

"And you spent there much time, more time than I have spent on dressing in my whole life," she teased.

"Oh, God! Perhaps, you are right," he said with a smile.

They chuckled together. Suddenly all humor was wiped from Lord Marchmont's face as he sat still, staring at Annabelle. The silence stretched between them, but Annabelle didn't mind.

Marchmont glared at her. "Darling, didn't you decide to find François?"

Annabelle shuddered and stared at him in horror. "Please, don't remind me about him! You know that I cannot find him! Please don't cause me more pain!"

The Earl of Marchmont cast a kind-hearted glance at her. "I am sorry, Annabelle. I am just so shocked after you had revealed the truth to me."

She winced. "I have been living in this shock and misery for the past six years. At least now I know that François wasn't killed in _the Franco-Prussian War of 1870-1871_."

"I understand, sister." He rubbed his cheek. "I cannot even imagine who could have sent those dreadful letters."

She shook her head, disappointment lacing her face. "I also don't know."

Suddenly, they felt that somebody hugged them both around their shoulders from the back. Annabelle screamed in unexpectedness and in confusion. The expression of her grey eyes turned from frightened to kind as she realized who approached them. Marchmont also smiled. The gentleman was _Jasper Alastair Robillard-Arden, the heir apparent to 8th Duke of Aylesbury and 10th Marquess of Wycombe_. He was accompanied by his younger brother _Morgan George Robillard-Arden_. It appeared that three third cousins – Annabelle, Patrick, and both Jasper and Morgan, who were brothers, gathered in the same place.

"Jasper! Jasper! You will scare me to death!" Annabelle cried out. "At least Morgan never scares me."

"I usually scare not to death, but to hell," Morgan mocked. "Good evening," he added.

Marchmont smiled heartily. "Happy to see you, my dear Jasper and my dear Morgan."

"Good evening, Annabelle and Patrick," Jasper said as he pulled back from them.

"Where are Christopher and Jacob?" Patrick asked.

"Our mother, Lady Georgette, is at home, and she asked Jacob to stay," Morgan said stonily.

"Christopher is playing cards at White's," Jasper declared. Jasper stared at Annabelle, his black eyes revealing concern. "How do you feel, darling? I was shocked as I learnt that you had departed to the United States."

Annabelle shrugged. "I feel much better. I am not going to die."

Morgan's jade green eyes sparkled. "Oh, no, we will never let you die." Then his tone turned very serious. "Do you really feel better?"

"Morgan, I am here. It means that I am fine," Annabelle said.

"Everyone is born sincere and die deceiver," Morgan teased.

Jasper, Annabelle, Patrick, and Morgan began to laugh. As their laugh faded away, Annabelle's face screwed up in pain.

"We are smiling. And Geoffroy and Charles are dead," she said sorrowfully. "It is unfair."

"Indeed, it is always unfair when people die so young," Jasper said lamentably. "Geoffroy was my friend, and I am deeply touched by his death. I am in mourning for both Geoffroy and Charles."

"Geoffroy said many times that he had never wanted people to wear black when he dies. He was very optimistic," Morgan retorted. "I am following his wishes, although, honestly, my heart is broken. I loved him very much. And he was one of my closest friends."

"I miss Geoffroy very much," Patrick said sorrowfully.

Annabelle sighed heavily. "Geoffroy was indeed optimistic, eccentric and prankish." She sighed. "God rest to Geoffroy and Charles's souls."

"God rest to their souls," Jasper, Morgan, and Patrick said in unison.

Then Jasper waved them for silence as he wanted to do an announcement. "Listen to me, the Robillard cousins." He trailed off, his voice deepening. "I am going to marry," he announced. "I am departing to Vienna to make a proposal to my lady."

As Jasper mentioned Vienna, Annabelle felt her knees trembling as she knew that François lived in Vienna. However, she didn't allow her feelings to be readable on her face. She was happy for Jasper, especially after their unfortunate love affair that ended in 1865, right after the death of her first husband. They were very young at that time - around twenty years old. They had been together for several months, and Jasper eventually proposed to Annabelle, but she pushed away. Annabelle had never loved Jasper, and she had thought that it had been a simple amourette for them, but it was before he said that he loved her wholeheartedly. Annabelle didn't agree to marry him because she didn't want to make him unhappy in their marriage. In several months after rejection by Annabelle, Jasper was trapped in a miserable marriage to another woman, Lady Cornelia. Because she got pregnant by him, as she said, Jasper married her. Soon Jasper was divorced on the back of Lady Cornelia's deceit and adultery as she gave birth to a brown-colored child, who couldn't be Jasper's son. That story with Jasper's divorce happened in 1866.

"I am happy that you are marrying, Jasper," Patrick stated, his sapphire blue eyes smiling.

Annabelle glared at him, her glance quizzical. "Jasper, do you love your lady?"

Jasper's face lit up with delight. "I do love her, Annabelle. She also loves me," he said sincerely.

"I am glad that it so, Jasper," Annabelle said.

Jasper smiled. "Thank you, Annabelle."

Annabelle de Robillard was unforgettable, and Jasper knew how lucky he was that he turned out to be among the few men who had managed to avoid her spell and fall in love with another woman. He loved her madly ten years ago, but they weren't supposed to be together. Probably, Jasper was the only man who was free from the fetters, which were amorous feelings which many men had for Annabelle, as she had broken many hearts.

"I am the happiest person because I will have more free time as my dear brother will be taken by the belle of Vienna," Morgan continued mocking.

"Exactly, my dear brother," Jasper agreed.

Patrick stared at Jasper and Morgan. "Do you know where Scarlett traveled?"

Morgan shook his head in negative response. "I don't know."

"I also don't know," Jasper said with innocent look. He lied because he learnt from his father the Duke of Aylesbury that Scarlett had gone to Vienna in order to find _Marquis François de Saint-Hérem_. Jasper and Aylesbury guessed that _Marquis François de Saint-Hérem_ had been Annabelle's mysterious lover and the father of her son René. He wanted Annabelle to be happy, so that he had to lie. He also knew that Aylebsury followed Scarlett to Vienna. "Please, don't worry about her. She will be fine," he added.

Annabelle sighed. "I hope so."

Patrick looked at her. "Annabelle, let's go to my castle near Edinburg for several weeks. Take René with us. Christopher is also going."

"I think I will go," Annabelle replied after a short pause. "A long time has passed since I visited Scotland."

"I am happy that you will accompany us," Patrick answered.

"I am leaving for the South of France tomorrow," Morgan declared. "I have spent there several months, and I am going back to Nice. I came back to London only to meet Jasper before his trip to Vienna. I must bless my brother before he makes a proposal. "

"It seems that everybody is leaving," Annabelle said.

"What is happening is eventually happening for the best," Jasper stated in a steady, confident voice.

"Who knows," Annabelle whispered.

The Robillard cousins continued talking for several hours. Soon they returned to the ballroom and were engaged in conversations with other guests. Nobody of them danced, thinking that it was unacceptable in the aftermath of the tragedies that happened with them. It was enough that they didn't follow many rules of Victorian society, which was widely discussed by the English beau monde. They were in chasmal mourning in their hearts. Approximately at midnight, they left the Leeds Hall.


	56. Chapter 56

**Chapter 56**

**Scarlett's departure to Vienna and Annabelle's findings about the poison**

Next day, Scarlett woke up when the pink appeared in the sky and headed to _Pierre Jean François Blanick's_ office instantly after the breakfast with a strong determination to execute her plans. During the journey to her lawyer's office, she was looking out of the window of her carriage outside, at the buildings along the street, built in various architectural styles – the Gothic, the Neo-Gothic, the Baroque, the Rococo, the Renaissance, and the Neo-Renaissance styles, as well as the style of the Second French Empire– _the Napoleon III style_. Such a mixture of architectural styles imparted to Paris additional charm and gorgeous beauty. Scarlett was fascinated with the grace and beauty of the city. As the carriage was moving, the main peculiarity of the city was becoming more and more evident – numerous wide avenues, rings of wide boulevards with their cafes and shops, and much open spaces which extended outwards far beyond the boundaries of the old city. Scarlett recalled that under the reign of _Napoleon III_, the medieval Paris, the old Paris of dense and irregular medieval alleyways, was transformed into a more rationally-designed, urban city in its current view, as both Mathieu and Annabelle once mentioned. It was the result of the renovation of Paris under the project of _Baron Haussmann_ between 1852 and 1870. Being a counselor at the Ministry of Art under _Napoleon III's_ regime, Scarlett's first late husband _Marquis Mathieu de Bréval _participated in the renovation of Paris, and he told her a lot about the matter, She remembered that Annabelle and Mathieu told her that the end of _the Second French Empire_ didn't affect the architectural style of Paris as none of architectural legacy was discredited and therefore the same architectural trends continued to exist in the city. Yet, _the Napoleon III style_, which shaped the view of the city after _Baron Haussmann_ had undertaken his renovation, still demonstrated its upper hand in the city.

The truth was that Scarlett has grown to love Paris, the capital of art, fashion, entertainment, and political life, which combined so many features in contrast to Atlanta and other cities of the American South. She wasn't quite interested in the political life of the country, centered in Paris and connected with the clashes between the Monarchists and the Republicans. Scarlett's didn't care for rising dissatisfaction of the old aristocrats and the richest bourgeoisie with the regime of the _Third Republic of France_ because she had enough money and kept it out of France. Besides, she wasn't the national of France, and the political future of this country was foreign for her.

Paris was so large and so beautiful, entirely sodden with freewheeling atmosphere of entertainment and fun, at least for Scarlett who had money thanks to Pierre Robillard and her late husband _Marquis Mathieu de Bréval_ and easy access to the beau monde, adhering to indulgence of social rules and standards. She thought that the warm and fruitful climate, the atmosphere of gaiety, and seeming understanding of freedom by Parisians were the good reason and the real justification for living in Paris. For Scarlett, Paris was associated only with the life of the upper-class society with its glamour and regal splendor, gratification and laziness. She didn't communicate with people of other social classes and even didn't care to interact with them. However, the truth was that it was a world of trumpery and cajolement, but never before had she thought about it. Why should she think about it if she had everything that she wanted, of course, excluding her love to Rhett? Maybe, now it was the time to look at her new world from another angle.

A fine black carriage stopped near a large neoclassical pink building with the front beautifully ornamented with bright pink figures of lions, and Scarlett stepped off the carriage on the _Avenue Montaigne_, which she associated with the history of her own marriages and widowhood. Ironically, _Avenue Montaigne_ was originally called the _allée des Veuves _or_ Widows' alley_ because women in mourning used to gather there two centuries ago. Scarlett always reflected on her triplex widowhood when she happened to be on this street. Having entered the building, she stormed up the stairs to the office of the old lawyer, knocked at the front door, and finally came in.

"Good afternoon, Monsieur Blanick. I hope you are doing well," Scarlett greeted her lawyer in French.

"Madame de Bréval, I am glad to see you in my office today. How do you feel now? I hope that you have recovered after the accident in London," the old lawyer answered politely.

"I am fine, Monsieur Blanick, thank you. I am here to talk to you about my children," she started, her voice like a chilling wisp of wind.

"I am at your disposal."

"My former husband Rhett Butler is likely to come to you within two weeks. He will probably ask you to help him with the paperwork because he will want my children to have his name," she declared.

Pierre looked at her observantly. "I see."

Scarlett cast a consequential glance. "I want you to help him with everything."

"Madame de Bréval, don't be alarmed. I will remember perfectly well what you told me about Monsieur Butler."

Scarlett raised her chin. "Very well."

"I want to itemize only one thing. Which surname do you plan to have for your daughters?" The lawyer's tone was polite, but as always he felt slightly uncomfortable under Scarlett's cold vigor. He never heard an unjustified prattle from Scarlett, in contrast to other women, and he has always been stunned with the fact.

If they were married, as she dreamed in the remote parts of her heart, no custody agreement would be necessary, Scarlett mused. She wanted to see what would happen with Rhett and her lives. No, she didn't need to prepare the custody agreement now. She will wait and see how Rhett will behave and what he will tell her when they meet.

"You need to ask Rhett Butler when he comes here, but my final approval is a mandatory condition."

With a sweet and charming patience and complaisance, Pierre replied: "Of course, Madame de Bréval."

"Furthermore, I don't want you to give Rhett the draft of the custody agreement for children. Let's postpone it," she instructed. "We don't need it so far."

"Everything will be executed in accordance with the best practice of the law of France," Monsieur Blanick replied and smiled back at Scarlett. He was astonished by the events in her private life as never had he supposed that Blanche and Isabelle weren't Mathieu's children.

"Monsieur Blanick, please inform Rhett Butler that I will be in Vienna in the next two months."

"It will be done, Madame de Bréval." The lawyer felt subordinated under her tone.

"Thank you, Monsieur Blanick."

"Where will you be staying in Vienna?"

"I will be staying at _the Hotel Imperial _on _Kaerntner Ring 16_. Please tell Mr Butler the address and the name of the hotel." Her tone was ceremonial and authoritative, her eyes and tone - both cold and authoritative.

"I will inform Mr Butler."

"My French relatives advised me to stay at _the Hotel Imperial_."

"Oh, God! This is absolutely great choice!" Pierre exclaimed. "I was staying at this hotel last year when I spent two weeks in Vienna. You will absolutely love this hotel. It is very new: it was opened either in 1873 or 1874. I remember that originally it was built as a residence of a Prince or a Duke. It is a magnificent hotel."

Scarlett smiled heartily. "I am glad to hear it. I want to have a good vacation in Vienna."

Pierre chuckled with a glee. "You will enjoy your time in Vienna. Do you have any relatives or friends there?"

"Yes, I do," Scarlett replied. "My grandfather's elder brother lives in Vienna, and I plan to meet him."

"I wish you best of luck."

"Thank you, Monsieur Blanick."

"You are welcome, Madame de Bréval."

"Monsieur, Blanick," Scarlett said. The expression of her face was very serious. "I ask you to strictly honor the confidentiality of the deal with Rhett Butler. It is very private and… erm… sensitive."

Pierre smiled dryly in an underhand way. "Please don't worry, Madame. Everything will be kept confidential within these walls."

"I know that another scandal associated with the Robillard name may come soon, but it seems to me that I can do nothing about it."

"The scandal will be blown up, but given that Madame Annabelle de Robillard has recently done almost the same - officially adopted her son, it wouldn't be a surprise for the high society."

"I hope so."

The lawyer shook his head in certainty. "Beau monde of Paris will soon find another subject to gossip. The more conservative ton of England will be less pleased with the news."

Scarlett's green eyes flashed. "I hope my relative _Philippe Justin Robillard-Arden, 8th Duke of Aylesbury_, will help me and I won't become an outcast in the ton of England."

"You know that the recent scandal around the Robillards was impressive. I would say Madame Annabelle hasn't become an outcast in the ton of England because his Grace the Duke of Aylesbury is accepted everywhere. With his great fortune and old name and connections with the British Parliament and Queen Victoria, nobody will dare to ignore the Robillards in the ton."

Scarlett gave to him a bleary smile. "Honestly, I am laying account with it."

"Believe me, Madame de Bréval, even if his Grace the Duke of Aylesbury does absolutely nothing, you still will be accepted in the light of his great influence and his social status. Of course, you will hear whisperings behind your back, but you will be accepted. His Grace the Duke of Aylesbury is a very important figure in Great Britain."

"I will ask the Duke of Aylesbury to recommend me what to do. We are on good terms with him."

"Excellent," Pierre commented. "From my side I will do everything possible to help you."

Scarlett leapt to her feet. "Thank you, Monsieur Blanick. Now I am going to see myself out."

The lawyer also stood up. "Certainly, Madame de Bréval. Don't worry and have a great trip to Vienna."

"Take care of yourself, Monsieur Blanick."

Pierre Blanick bowed to Scarlett. "Goodbye, Madame de Bréval."

Scarlett approached the doorway. "Goodbye, Monsieur Blanick."

Scarlett left her lawyer's office and headed back home. When she arrived, _Vittorio Amedeo Alberto di Savoia, the Duke of Naples_, has already been waiting for her, and they departed from_Rue des Blancs Manteaux_ in the aristocratic district ___Le Marais_in an hour after Scarlett arrived from her lawyer. Strangely, Scarlett felt some unaccountable alarm relative to Vittorio, although he had helped her and Annabelle a great deal when they were sick. Nevertheless, still feeling relatively unwell, a green-eyed lady liked being accompanied by the Italian aristocrat to Vienna. Anyway, Vittorio said that he would leave Scarlett in Vienna and come back to Italy. In this case, soon she would stay with her daughters Blanche and Isabelle, as well as, hopefully, Beau and, probably, even India Wilkes.

When the carriage with Scarlett, her daughters, their nannies Leontine and Amelie, and Vittorio was travelling down a wide fashionable _Rue de la Paix_, intersecting with_ Place Vendome_, which both are famous for high end jewelers, Vittorio abruptly discontinued the silence.

"How do you feel, Scarlett? You look relatively well-rested today," Vittorio said.

"Vittorio, thank you, but you are fussing me. You see, I am fine," Scarlett answered and looked affectionately at Isabelle who was sleeping on her lap.

"Sorry, Scarlett, for disturbing you with my solicitude and attention," Vittorio's bottom lip twisted sardonically. "Probably, in your unblessed solitude you feel better."

"Vittorio, what are you alluding to?" Scarlett nearly jumped from his cold expatiation.

"I am up to the fact that you spend too much time in solitude with your children and Annabelle," the Duke of Naples narrowed his dark lids and shrugged.

"My mind isn't stiffened by my solitude, Vittorio. I am fine," Scarlett countered Vittorio.

"We are passing by _Rue de la Paix_ and _Place Vendome_ now. I want to raise your mood and suggest stopping near one of the jewelry shops to buy a present for you and your daughters," Vittorio ignored her indifferent tone. He decided to try to please his inamorata who, however, didn't respond to twiggy affections of his spirit.

"Vittorio, thank you very much, but I won't accept any gifts from you, apart from flowers and chocolate," Scarlett forced a faint smile on her pale face. She got the point where Vittorio was working up to.

"As you wish, Scarlett. Have you thought about my proposal to come to my palace by the end of the summer?" Vittorio pressed on further. "The climate of Naples will help you better restore your health with its warm breeze and thermal springs that are located very close to my palace."

"Vittorio, it is a great honor for me to be invited to you, but, unfortunately, I will have to refuse your proposal. I plan to stay in with my daughters and former husband in Toulouse," Scarlett cut Vittorio's hints off sharply, and a captivating smile parted her lips.

"Your former husband… You mean Monsieur Butler, don't you?"

"Yes," Scarlett nodded.

"I remember him from the art event in London," Vittorio drawled slightly. He paused as he was startled.

"Yes, Rhett was there."

Vittorio stared at Scarlett with his watchful gaze. "If I may ask, what kind of relations do you have with this man?"

"You have already asked, Vittorio. He is the farther of my daughters, and I plan let him to spend time with them," elucidation slipped off her tongue, she smiled and added: "In my gorgeous solitude."

Vittorio curved his lips in a mordant smile. "I didn't know that he is their father."

Scarlett held his startled gaze. She decided to warn his question. "Mathieu has always known about it."

"In this case, you will be able to attend the infamous Toulouse carnal in the middle of September."

"Yes, I planned to do it. Vittorio, I am so tired. I will sleep a little bit," Scarlett pronounced in her forced distress as she didn't want to talk to Vittorio about Rhett. "Leontine, can you please, take sleeping Isabelle? Blanche is also sleeping, isn't she?"

"Madame Scarlett, they both are sleeping. Give her in my hands," Leontine carefully took Isabelle from Scarlett's hands and placed her in the small crib near her. "If you need something else, let me know."

"Thank you, Leontine," Scarlett moved about with a big smile and glad-hands.

Leontine smiled at her mistress. "You are welcome, Madame Scarlett."

Scarlett inhaled and lazily stretched her legs. "Vittorio, aren't you tired? We have left so early today. If you don't mind, I will have a short nap."

"Certainly. Let me know if you feel unwell and we will stop somewhere to rest," Vittorio answered and closed his eyes in his battle to conceal malice and chagrin, which had caused pain in his heart after Scarlet's avouchment about her current connection to Rhett Butler.

Rhett and Annabelle were sitting and having breakfast alone in the grand living room of the Marchmont Hall. They were the first in the whole house to get up in the morning. They were talking about Scarlett and Rhett's children.

Annabelle granted to Rhett a kindly smile. "One of your daughters has a strong resemblance to you, especially in terms of the color of her skin. It is Blanche. Another girl, Isabelle, is a little bit different, and she is unconventional girl. When they were born, they were so small, like small kittens."

"Our Bonnie also had my color of skin, darker than Scarlett's alabaster skin," Rhett said proudly.

"I was with Scarlett during her labor. It was awful, Rhett," Annabelle suddenly said.

Rhett set his jaw. "Annabelle, did Scarlett have a difficult pregnancy? She alluded to me that it was terrible."

"Indeed, it was a tough period, not only physically, but also emotionally. Scarlett's heart was fraught with diverse scares," Annabelle began her discourse. "She was afraid of dying in labor or before and asked Mathieu, her last husband, to contact you in case of her death. She was bedridden from the seventh month. The labor was superlatively difficult. I won't go into other too private details."

"Why was it so bad for her that time, Annabelle? I remember her carrying Bonnie, and neither of this happened. Was it due to miscarriage she had suffered earlier? Did she tell you about?"

"Two reasons caused difficult pregnancy and labor. Firstly, she was carrying twins, and the second infant was a predicament in labor. We didn't know that she would have twins till the labor had come," she said serenely and sipped some coffee.

"Did miscarriage result in these difficulties?" Rhett repeated his question, stringing on his fork scrambled egg.

"Scarlett told me about the miscarriage and her fall down the staircase. In fact, miscarriage could have given rise to handicaps during the pregnancy," Annabelle said frankly as she was pleased that Rhett was so genuinely interested in Scarlett's pregnancy. Actually, Annabelle saw how Rhett loved Scarlett. Now when she saw a defeated and frustrated Rhett, a person who regretted and recognized his own mistakes, she respected him.

"It is my entire fault. I caused her miscarriage." His voice sounded like martyr's repentance. "We have never been sincere with each other. I acted like a stranger in my intrusive idea to protect myself from Scarlett's love Ashley Wilkes at the expense of our mutual happiness. She was never frank with me too. We overplayed and overreacted in our game. Damn this game…"

"Exactly, Rhett. You didn't stop in time, and fate stopped your game by imposing a tragedy on you."

"My God! I am a wretched bastard! How could I not listen to her when she came to me to Charleston with the apparent intention to tell me about being pregnant?" Rhett wailed in a shaking voice.

"By all means, please, stop it," Annabelle stood up from the chair, approached a small table in the corner of the living room, took decanter, poured out one glass of whiskey, and handed the glass to Rhett. "Drink some whiskey. This bitter poison helps sometimes."

"How could I leave Scarlett in Charleston after our night together? I wanted to hide myself from my love for her in a bottle of whiskey and pushed her away from me so cruelly… I didn't give her a mantle of my care, attention, assistance, and love when she was carrying my children," he raised his head and took a glass from Annabelle's hands. She noticed that his dark eyes circled with weariness.

"You didn't know about her pregnancy," the grey-eyed lady objected.

"I must have known… I didn't console Scarlett in her fears and trembling… and I wasn't with her when my children were born," Rhett's heart rested in his throat. "At that time I was drinking my pain away and living a mummery of life of a proper Charlestonian gentleman. How could I do it?"

"Rhett, please, stop it. It is in the past. You have a bright future ahead, which you can model for you, Scarlett, and your children," she tried to console Rhett. "You can have more children once you reconcile and she fully recovers."

"Annabelle, don't worry. I am fine."

"I hope so."

"I am not going to get drunk in order to blunt the pain and a bitter taste of self-disdain and self-disrespect. Now I am simply verbalizing my reasoning…" Rhett said firmly and sipped some whiskey. He didn't have any intention to drunk to stupor today and spent almost the whole conversation with Annabelle with one single glass of whiskey. "Damn Silvia! Damn her! She must rot in hell." Rhett nearly roared, his face screwed up in pain and suppressed anger.

"Rhett, please, calm down. Silvia is undoubtedly in hell," Annabelle said reassuringly.

"I am sure Scarlett wanted this child," Rhett pronounced confidently.

"Of course, she did, Rhett. When she was pregnant with Annabelle and Blanche, she remembered you every day. Although she didn't confess to me when I asked, I saw it in her eyes," Annabelle commented.

"Damn the Duke of Naples! He forged that accursed note… Scarlett couldn't ask her maid to write it for me," Rhett breathed deeply to compose himself.

Annabelle looked angry, her grey eyes glittering dangerously in her rage. "Vittorio is a mean reptile! Villainous Italian intriguer! He is abject bastard and varmint!"

His nostrils flared. "He is a bastard."

"Maybe, we can go to his residence in Chelsea and talk to him," Annabelle added with strong determination in her voice, her eyes glittering sharper in intensified rampage at the Duke of Naples.

Rhett cast a glance at Annabelle. "I will come to him by myself, Annabelle. It is my private deal."

"Honestly, I would prefer not to intrude. I have enough scandals around my name," Annabelle pointed out conscientiously.

"I am going to his place right after breakfast. Can you please give me the address?" Rhett requested.

"Not a problem, take it," Annabelle replied she handed to Rhett Vittorio's card.

"Thank you. I am capable of killing this bastard," Rhett hissed.

"I know that you can, but take into account that he is a powerful enemy. I don't think that it is reasonable to have another enemy in Europe," she tossed her head. "I am going to visit Doctor Casimir Broussard today to consult about the poison used by Silvia in Charleston."

"How can you do it?"

"I took one of the empty glasses with lemonade at your house, Rhett."

Rhett narrowed his black eyes and stared at her. "A clever and practical step. Why didn't you tell me about it?"

"It wasn't good time to do it. Now the time came. I am not sure that Charleston police would be able to identify the poison," she explained, her voice emotionless.

After the breakfast Rhett headed to Chelsea to Vittorio, the Duke of Naples's residence. However, his plans to talk to the duke were crushed by the news that Vittorio had left London three days ago and headed to Paris. Rhett was smitten and paralyzed for a second when he heard this news from the maid at Vittorio's residence. Having matched the details of Scarlett's escape with the Duke's departure from London, Rhett concluded that they most likely left London together. A hair-rising anger seized Rhett's body when a thought of possibility of Scarlett's love affair with this Italian overcame his mind. However, he quickly composed himself and decided that it wasn't possible. Rhett returned to Marguerite's mansion and reported Annabelle about the results of his visit to Vittorio.

At the same time _Countess Annabelle de Morville_ was sitting with Doctor Casimir Broussard in the study room at his house on Upper Brook Street. She was lucky to find him at home because the old man was recovering from the flue and thus had to stay at home. It took the middle-aged doctor several hours to identify the ingredients of the poison because much time had passed since the day of poisoning and the poison partly evaporated and turned very dry. However, the old man was very scrupulous, somehow dissolved the poison left at the bottom of the glass, and distinguished the components. The result was quite unexpected.

The poison that killed Silvia and several people at Rhett Butler's house was even rarer than cooper sulphate and the Borgia's _Cantarella_. The poison consisted of three main ingredients: a lot of pure aconite of unidentified type, which breaches blood pressure and cardio rhythm, leading to suffocation and heart attack; the Medici's blue cooper sulphate used to make the poisonous powder evaporable in order to conceal the real ingredients; the Borgia's _Cantarella_ that, although doesn't kill immediately, in this case is used to create the impression of sweetness and the sweet smell, again to hide the aconite as an ingredient; and some other unknown components, presumably, _atropa belladonna_. It was a murderous mixture.

Doctor Casimir Broussard told Annabelle that the poison, which she had brought to him, was the murderous _aconite_ or _aconitum_, also known as _"the queen of poisons", aconite, monkshood, wolf's bane, leopard's bane, women's bane, devil's helmet_ or _blue rocket_. Aconite was a genus of over two hundred and fifty species of flowering plants belonging to the family _Ranunculaceae_. The name of the poison came from the Greek _ἀ__κόνιτον_, which means "without struggle." Indeed, aconite could result in the death without any efforts and struggle of the human body. In the ancient times and in the Middle Ages, toxins extracted from the plant were used to kill wolves, and hence one of the names of the poison was _wolf's bane_.

Doctor Broussard said that marked symptoms of the poisoning by aconite included dizziness, confusion, sweating, nausea and vomiting, usually followed by a sensation of burning, tingling, and numbness in the mouth and in the face, accompanied by extreme burning in the abdomen. Later, weakness and numbness spread to the limbs. With large doses death usually occurred almost instantaneously. If the dose was medium, death could occur within two to six hours in fatal poisoning. It was known that aconite had a severe affect on the cardio rhythm: aconite usually caused the paralysis of the heart or of the respiratory center.

_Aconitum napellus_ was a famous poison in the times of Roman Empire, as illustrated by the example when _the Emperor Claudius_ had been poisoned by his wife _Agrippina_, using aconite in a plate of mushrooms, in order to make his heir and successor her son _Nero_. Another interesting fact was that the roots of aconite supply the Indian poison called _bikh, bish, or nabee_, in large doses a deadly poison causing almost instantaneous death. Another fact was that several species of aconite were used as arrow poisons, for hunting, and for warfare. The most remarkable moment was that the poison with the same proportions of ingredients appeared to have been used by _Napoleon Bonaparte's_ secret agents starting from 1798 when _Napoleon Bonaparte_, known as _Napoleon I_, conquered Ottoman-ruled Egypt in an attempt to strike at British trade routes with India that was under British control at that time. Presumably, in Egypt some of British secret agents were captivated by _Napoleon I's_ forces that somehow discovered this poison. Later _Napoleon II_, _Louis Philippe I_ during the_ July Monarchy_, and _Napoleon III's_ secret agents were known to use this poison to kill themselves upon disclosure to avoid captivity.

The poison was also used by the British secret government agents, and in fact the French just copied the English. As a poison for the secret agents, aconite had its roots in the British Foreign office. And even when _Napoleon I_ copied the poison for his own agents, the poison was still different. Firstly, English agents used aconite, mixed with other ingredients, and that poisonous mixture was stronger than that one used by French spies. The distinguishing feature was the type of aconite: the English poison for the secret government agents was based on the roots of _Aconitum ferox_, which was also known as the Indian Aconite. It was _Aconitum ferox_ from which the well known Indian poison _bikh, bish_, or _nabee_ was produced. It contained large quantities of the _alkaloid pseudaconitine_, which was a deadly poison, if a person wasn't immune to it. In contrast to the English, the French poison was based on the _aconitum napellus, _which was a species of flowering plant in the genus aconitum, native and endemic to western and central Europe. _Aconitum ferox _was stronger than _aconitum napellus_.

In addition, the British version of the poison was known to contain _datura metel, _which was a perennial herb, commonly known as _devil's trumpet_ and _metel_. _Datura metel_ originated in northern India and was found throughout Southeast Asia. _Datura metel_ was very toxic, even if it was ingested in small quantity. Symptoms associated with that poisoning by _datura metel_ included flushed skin, headaches, hallucinations, and possibly convulsions or even a coma.

"Do I understand correctly that now we cannot define exact type of the aconite?" Annabelle questioned.

"Yes," Doctor Broussard said. "Too much time has passed. The poison had dried. It can be _aconitum ferox_, _aconitum napellus, _or even another type of aconite."

Annabelle blinked in confusion. "I see."

"Annabelle, please keep our conversation confidential. I don't want to have any problems with the Foreign Office of Great Britain," Doctor Broussard said crisply.

Annabelle cast a serious glance at him. "Certainly, Doctor Casimir. I would never betray you."

"I am giving to you pure _aconitum ferox_, without any other components, just to make sure that you will stay alive, if something bad happens. What I am doing now is a breach of many important rules in England, but I am doing it only for you."

"Thank you for this, Doctor Casimir," Annabelle said.

"Nobody else must know about this fact," the doctor repeated. "I am giving enough poison to you for both Scarlett and yourself. Take aconite every day, while I recommend to interchange _Cantarella_ and blue cooper sulphate - one day cooper sulfate, another day _Cantarella_. In total, you will take two different poisons every day. Ingest into your body one milligram of both _Cantarella_ and blue cooper sulphate and half of a milligram of aconite."

Annabelle's brain was working hard as she tried to match all the new facts and old events in Charleston and London. The mess became greater because numerous unanswered questions appeared. How did _Silvia Ferdinanda Albertson Dawson_ get this extremely rare poison, even given that she was very professional in the art of poisoning? How could Silvia know the exact proportions of ingredients in the murderous poison? Where did she get Borgia's _Cantarella_? Annabelle recalled that Silvia complained that she didn't have pure _Cantarella _during her confession in the Grace Episcopal Church. Did Silvia lie to everybody? If she didn't lie, the question was where Silvia got _Cantarella _in order to use it for the preparation of the poison. Was it possible that somebody else gave her ready poison for the usage? Given Vittorio's knowledge in poisoning and his relation to the Borgia noble house, was Silvia somehow related to Vittorio? No, it seemed unbelievable and unlikely, Annabelle mused. Vittorio desired Scarlett very much and it was unlikely that he could have poisoned her, as Annabelle mused. The situation became very strange, and the only assuasive fact was that Doctor Broussard gave to Annabelle three flacons with aconite powder to use it as a preventive measure.

When the hands of the gilt clock on the mantelpiece stood at a quarter to five, Rhett stormed out to the study room and found thoughtful Annabelle with the glass of scotch in her hand. She was sitting in the armchair near the window and observing the sky with some thunderous clouds gathering which made the light very bad so early.

"_Duke Vittorio Amedeo di Savoia_ left London for Paris three days ago," Rhett announced.

Annabelle didn't look at Rhett. "And so did Scarlett."

"When I was in Paris, I heard a lot of rumors that Scarlett had a love affair with the Duke of Naples," Rhett snapped carelessly, his blood boiling at this thought. "Scarlett took my children and left with him."

"I guess you don't like this idea, do you?" Annabelle smirked waspishly. "Rhett, they aren't lovers and have never been."

"Scarlett anyway hasn't been faithful to me after the divorce. She was married to Mathieu de Bréval."

"They married because it was like a business deal for both of them. Scarlett will tell you the details if she wants," she said abruptly. "Anyway, you also weren't faithful to her after the divorce and even during the marriage."

"Yes, indeed," Rhett admitted grudgingly.

"What will you do?"

Rhett looked at her, his brow wrinkling with the effort to digest the news and his further plans. "I will leave for Paris tonight."

"Alright. Are you coming alone?"

"My mother and Robert decided to stay in London. They would find what to do as they have never been there before. I want to talk to Scarlett's lawyer as soon as possible."

"I am also staying in London for the next two weeks. Then I will be back to France," Annabelle's grey eyes met coal eyes of Rhett. "Your mother and Robert can stay at Marguerite's house."

"Thank you, Annabelle. I am not going to press Scarlett, but I am alarmed that she left with that cursed Italian liar," his eyes began to snap fire and his hands to clench and unclench.

"Rhett, I am also worried for Scarlett. If you know something from the lawyer, will you please let me know immediately?"

"Of course, I will do it," Rhett promised sincerely.

"I was at Doctor Broussard's house today, and there is a room for thought," Annabelle began. She narrated Rhett her conversation with Doctor Broussard in details and also gave to him two flacons with aconite to use together with cooper sulphate and _Cantarella_ as a precaution for further poisoning. When Annabelle finished, Rhett hardly glanced at her. "What do you think?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" she asked, her brows lifted in pained astonishment.

"I don't know. So far I cannot match all the events in Charleston and London with the new facts," Rhett replied simply. He stole a look at his female companion's face, but the candles on the table near the armchair left her in a shadow.

"And neither can I. Are you thinking about Vittorio?"

"Yes, I am."

"It is very unlikely that Vittorio tried to poison Scarlett and me in London together with Silvia. He loves or at least desires Scarlett very much. It is written in his eyes each time when he approaches her or talks to her or about her. Vittorio couldn't have been involved in the poisoning in London because of the aforementioned and because of his hope for Scarlett's gratitude and attention towards his person as a hero who did so much for her in the aftermath of the poisoning."

"I agree, but this could be revenge," Rhett answered. He poured a glass of whiskey and settled in the armchair close to Annabelle. "On the other hand, there are other methods to take his revenge for the rejection if he chooses to do it. I am not sure that now he is so confident in his rejection."

"I agree. This deadly poison Silvia used in Charleston is very rare and she should be much more knowledgeable in poisoning to prepare it when a simple member of the Montecuccoli noble house who used exclusively black and blue cooper sulphate," Annabelle said. "_Aconitum ferox_ originally comes from India, as I mentioned, while _aconitum napellus _is the habitat of western and central Europe._ Aconitum napellus_ was used in ancient Rome. As a poison, aconite of all types causes arrhythmic heart function which leads to suffocation and heart attack. Poisoning can occur even after touching the leaves of the plant without wearing gloves as it is very rapidly and easily absorbed."

"Did Doctor Broussard tell you what type of aconite was used – _aconitum ferox _or _aconitum napellus?_"

"No, he didn't. It is late to define this now," Annabelle replied.

"It means that we don't know whether it was a poison used by the French or the English spies," Rhett inferred.

Annabelle nodded. "Exactly."

"Everything is so inextricable in this story. I remember that Silvia was choking in her near-death moments," Rhett said. Then he emptied the glass of whiskey.

"This was because of aconite. Now we know that. If you remember, I told you that the poison in her medallion caused something like a collapse of her heart as it stopped beating." Annabelle drew a breath and closed her eyes, like being suddenly a sort of shy. "Because of its untraceable nature aconite has been a popular poison with the "get away with murder" crowd."

"Do you think that somebody gave this poison to Silvia, Annabelle?"

"I do think so. Or she took it somewhere on her own."

"The last option is more likely to be real. We must be very careful."

"Very careful," she repeated. "But if Silvia took it, what was the purpose?"

"I don't know. This is a mystery. I don't think that somebody else should know about this story. Really, I don't understand how the Charleston tragedy could be connected with the poison with the roots in Asia, applied in ancient Rome, and used by the French and the English secret agents," Rhett concluded and stretched his long legs. "I will hire the detective to have more information on Silvia's family background."

"Good idea, Rhett."

"Yes, it is. Anyway, I don't think that in the nearest future something will happen, even if not everything ended in Charleston."

"I agree that it looks unlikely and would be stupid for Silvia's copartner, if he or she exists, to act now. We will be careful," she declared. "Oh gracious! Only look at the time! I must go! I positively must go! I got two invitations today. There are two parties tonight, one at the Duke of St Albans's place and the other at the Earl of Bradford's mansion. I need to get ready soon. I must make Marchmont to speed up in order not to be late."

"Don't play at the card table too much," Rhett let out a cheerful laugh.

"No, I won't," she laughed back and rose to her feet. "Suspicion and anxiety are too fatiguing emotions, Rhett. The best to cure you is just to be careful and focus on Scarlett now."

"Indeed, fatiguing," Rhett blurted out, the note of amusement in his voice.

"Don't distress yourself more. Have a safe trip," she recommended. When Rhett raised his eyes at her, she was already gone.

The same evening Rhett left London for Paris, despite his mother's protests and questions about what was going on. On the contrary, Robert supported his father in his endeavors to trace Scarlett and didn't want to interfere in his plans. Robert and Eleanor were supposed to stay in London at Marguerite's house till the time Rhett would update them on his whereabouts and further plans. Robert was overexcited with being in London and had a lot of plans to visit museums, galleries, parks, and even some other cities in England. The young boy planned to take Eleanor Butler with him.


	57. Chapter 57

**Chapter 57**

**_Bona fide_**** friends and world of trumpery and cajolement**

A silent flicker of enthusiasm permeated Scarlett's mind as soon as the black fine carriage entered the center of Vienna. Scarlett didn't expect the city to be as big and beautiful as Paris was. In the aftermath of the defeat and separation of the German Federation, large restoration and reorganization of political forces, territorial arrangements, and economic interconnections took place in continental Europe.

The Duke of Naples told Scarlett that Austro-Hungary was a constitutional monarchic union between the crowns of the Austrian Empire and the Kingdom of Hungary in Central Europe. Amid the territorial muddle in Germany, in 1867, by the arranging both territorial and economical compromise with Germany, _Emperor_ _Franz Joseph I_ founded _the dual monarchy Austro-Hungary_. The Austrian lands and the Hungarian lands were independent entities enjoying equal status. Yet, their power was joined in one state – Austro-Hungary, the country which was one of the world's great powers in Europe at the time and which was geographically the second largest country in Europe after the Russian Empire. The Habsburg monarch, _Emperor_ _Franz Joseph I,_ ruled as Emperor of Austria over the Austrian Empire and as King of Hungary over the Kingdom of Hungary. Each enjoyed considerable sovereignty with only a few joint affairs in the area of foreign relations and defense. The two capitals of Austro-Hungary were Vienna for the Austrian lands and Buda for the Hungarian lands. In 1873, Buda united with two neighboring cities - Pest and Óbuda, and the new capital appeared - Budapest.

Remarkably, the development of Vienna advanced rapidly under the administration of _Emperor __Franz Joseph I_. Vienna was rebuilt both in the center and in suburbs, and numerous fortifications inside the city were demolished. Many public buildings were erected under the designation of the new Emperor, including ministries, museums, _Wiener Staatsoper (The Vienna State Opera)_ and _the Burgtheater (The Imperial Court Theatre)_, as well as many churches in the Gothic style, the Neo-Gothic style, and in the Renaissance style. Scarlett liked the General layout and landscapes of the city. In fact, Vienna of that time was similar to Paris, and Scarlett was expecting her arrival in the city of music and charm with trepidation in her heart. Now she was in the midst of the foundation era in the recently established powerful country, feeling in a fluster of touching a new civilization and its attributes.

The black carriage stopped on _Kaerntner Ring_ in front of a grand building of _the Hotel Imperial_ in Neo-Renaissance style. The majestic Hotel Imperial and its sumptuous surroundings were originally created in 1863 as _the Prince of Württemberg's_ residence in Vienna. Overlooking the historic _Ring Boulevard_ in central Vienna, the building was transformed into a hotel to accommodate discerning visitors of the 1873 World's Fair. The Hotel Imperial was truly the palace of a prince, and even the facade was Italian Neo-Renaissance with emblematic details.

Scarlett, her maids and the children's nannies Leontine and Amelie, as well as Scarlett's little daughters Blanche and Isabelle, and the Duke of Naples stepped off two carriages into the street and entered the lobby of _the Hotel Imperial_. Soon another one more carriage stopped – these carriages were transporting Scarlett's luggage. Seconds later, two more carriage also stopped the hotel, and Vittorio's escorting people climbed out of the carriage. Finally, there were five carriages standing in a row near the hotel building. Soon Scarlett and her daughters settled in a luxurious two-bedroom suite with a large living room and two bedrooms. The suite was connected with another double room number where Leontine and Amelia were living. Vittorio took another large double bedroom suite, and, to Scarlett's satisfaction, on another floor.

At the same time, two elegantly dressed, handsome men stopped their high sporty perch-phaeton on the opposite side of the road, but also in front of the hotel. The horses attracted attention of many passers-by because it would be unlikely to find something better in any stables in the whole city. Those two gentlemen observed with certain intensity how Scarlett and others left the carriage. They were _Philippe Justin Robillard-Arden, 8th Duke of Aylesbury_, and _Julian St John Lessard, 13th Earl of Effingham_. It was evident that they were not from the local nobles, but they were talking in pure German even without any accent.

"What a funny scene with so many carriages standing in front of the hotel," Effingham exclaimed.

The Duke of Aylebsury smiled. "What do you want from a fashionmonger like Scarlett?"

A smile hovered over Effingham's full lips. "I think that she could have taken even more things with her."

Aylesbury's smile grew wider. "Well, you are right."

"We arrived earlier than they did," Effingham said.

"James Breckenridge reported that they had left Paris for Vienna six days and twenty hours ago."

"James Breckenridge is a real beagle," Lord Effingham replied dryly.

"He is the best among my people," Aylebsury noted.

"I know, Philippe."

"We should have caught them somewhere between Zurich and Vienna."

"Of course, we have caught them somewhere there because you have been extending the horses at a rattling good speed." Effingham smirked. "What are you going to do?"

"James has been watching Scarlett since this disgusting poisoning in London. He will continue doing it, and I will keep an eye on her too, together with you, my friend." The Duke of Aylesbury drew reins alongside the phaeton to start moving. "I hope you don't mind."

"Philippe, I never mind. You look worried. Although you are trying to hide it, I know it."

"I am very worried, Julian, and it is not only because of the recent poisoning in London."

"What happened?" Anxiety emerged on Lord Effingham's handsome face.

Aylesbury kept his gaze upon the entrance the hotel, looking how the servants were unloading the carriages. "You really want to know, comrade?"

"Of course, I want to know why you made me leave my wife Linnette and children in London and why you left that charming young creature Denise in Paris."

"Your life may become much more difficult if some facts from the past become known for the society, especially for the Ministry for the Foreign Affairs," The Duke of Aylesbury explained, his voice sounding matter-of-factly. "Forget about Linnet, and I will forget about my expensive kept mistresses."

"Philippe, what happened?" Lord Effingham requested in the same unemotional voice.

"Julian, I have learnt some details about the recent tragedy in Charleston. I mean the scandal around the Butlers." The Duke of Aylesbury felt his horses' mouths with a movement of his long fingers on the reins.

"Do you mean the poisoning by that crazy fiancée of Rhett Butler?"

"Yes, I mean this event. This lady used "_invisibilis mors_" with aconite in her last poisoning."

The Duke of Aylesbury meant the murderous aconite-based poison nicknamed "_invisibilis mors_" in Latin or "_invisible death_" by the British secret agents or spies. The poison was nicknamed so because it was nearly impossible to identify it and its contents: _aconitum ferox_, the foundation of the poison, prevented the identification of all the elements in the poisonous mixture while also staying murderous affect on human body with inexplicable source. The poisoned person could even not understand that he or she had been poisoned. Therefore, the poisoning resulted in a sort of "_invisible death_". The agents were always keeping the poison with them and usually used it as a last resort measure – to kill themselves in order to avoid disclosure and captivation. For the agent simple loss of the flacon with poison was the same as committing treason and thus sentencing himself to death. The poison was very rare, its contents and affect were extremely secretive, and no government agent or spy could ever reveal a secret about that poison, give it to somebody else, or even worse lose it. It was the treason against the British Crown, which usually was followed by the secret trial and the agent's hanging in the aftermath of it.

The French spies used so-called French "_mort inévitable_" or "_inevitable death_", which contained a weaker type of aconite, which was native to western and central Europe, not British India - _aconitum napellus_. In addition, it didn't include _datura metel_ originated in northern India and spread throughout Southeast Asia.

"What? What?" Lord Effingham's face turned entirely bloodless from shock. "Where did she get aconite-based poison?"

"I must ask you, my friend. I remember that you had a mission in Charleston several years ago. After your arrival back to London you told me that you lost the flacon with the poison. Remember that it took us much time to decide how to avoid having your hands in shackles, Julian."

Effingham was shocked. His face turned bloodless. "Philippe, you saved me at that time. I am obliged to you for the rest of my life."

The Earl of Effingham sighed heavily as he recalled how the Duke of Aylesbury had saved. Aylesbury and Effingham had to pretend that during their next secret mission in Denmark they had no other way out, except for their self-poisoning with aconite in order to avoid the disclosure and the subsequent captivation. They imitated that they had taken a lot of poison, when in fact they just used a little to have insignificant visible manifestation of poisoning. Later the Duke of Aylesbury and Lord Effingham made up a story that in the cold winter they had been left half dead by Hungarian government officials somewhere in the countryside, in the wasteland in the suburbs of Copenhagen. They said that they had been fortunate to be found by local people and that they had survived the poisoning because sometimes in the frost aconite is known to decay, thus losing its mortiferous strength. As the case took place during one of the coldest winters in the history of Denmark, their story sounded credible. As Aylesbury and Effingham had to take a minuscule dose of poison to imitate the symptoms of poisoning, they were indeed ill as that dose of poison had affected them. However, they were not as ill as they pretended to be: later, once they came back to England, they had to feign serious suffering from the consequences of poisoning and serious sickness for several months. Only this story could justify the loss of the secret poison in the eyes of the Ministry for the Foreign Affairs of Great Britain, so-called Foreign Office.

Aylesbury shook his head. "You aren't obliged to me because you also saved me several times, Julian."

"Tell me the name of the Butler's fiancée."

"_Silvia Ferdinanda Albertson Dawson_."

Lord Effingham swallowed hard, his face paled and turned even lighter than his platinum blonde hair. "This mousy person was my one-night... erm... companion when I was severely drunk after one of the boring Charleston parties. I was one of the very few gentlemen who drank really much on that party. I even don't remember that night because it seems to me that I was completely drunk. It was the only time in the past twenty years when I woke up in other woman's bed, aside from my wife's," Lord Effingham grieved. "It appears that somehow she took the poison. I thought that I lost it. I didn't know about this circumstance."

"We need to know how and why Silvia took it. Maybe, you weren't Silvia's lover. She could give you something from the opioids and you simply slept the whole night. I know that you didn't think that somebody could take the poison, and you don't need to exonerate yourself in my eyes."

"How did you know that Silvia used this poison? Did the Charleston police report the case?"

"No, Julian. Annabelle de Robillard gave to Doctor Broussard the pattern of the poison, and the doctor notified James, as usual. Also, in Paris Rhett Butler went to the detective, I suppose, to hire him to learn more about the new facts."

"Rhett Butler seems to be friends with Annabelle," Effingham admitted.

Aylesbury nodded. "_Peut-être oui peut-être pas (Maybe yes maybe no)._"

"Rhett Butler and Annabelle might become friends after Annabelle's help to Rhett Butler."

The Duke of Aylesbury cast a quick glance at Effingham and looked away. "_Amitiés soudaines vivent rarement à maturité (Sudden friendships rarely live to ripeness)_," he said.

"Are you again quoting _Mademoiselle Madeleine de Scudery_?"

Philippe Robillard-Arden gave an enigmatic smile. "Yes, I am. Are you astonished?"

Effingham broke into a thrill of a sincere laugh. "Of course, I am not amazed. Your love for_ Sapho_ is well-known in the society," he commented.

"I thought it is good that you can always fathom what I am quoting."

"Philippe, you know how much I adore your knowledge of French literature."

Aylesbury's voice turned low. "Julian, maybe I am more French in my blood than I used to think." His voice was so low Effingham seemed to feel it more than hear it.

"Maybe, my friend," the Earl of Effingham assumed. Then he gave a nervous laugh. "Annabelle is the granddaughter of Jean-Baptiste's brother Gerard, if I am not mistaken."

"You are right, Julian. Annabelle's father was _Vincent Gaspard Pierre de Robillard de Bréveaux_, who was Gerard's only son. Vincent and Gerard died a long time ago. Indeed, Gerard was Jean-Baptiste's brother."

"Philippe, in fact Annabelle is like your distant niece, and you can talk to her and explain that this fact with the poison should be forgotten."

"Jean-Baptiste is like a grandfather to her. I don't think we should discuss my relationship to Annabelle. Recall that officially I am a close relative for the Robillards. I am also the Robillard by blood," the Duke said. "We are relatives in either case."

"Yes, Philippe," Effingham agreed. "Did you tell Jean-Baptiste about the case with the poison?"

"No, I didn't. If Rhett Butler continues to be so persistent, I will have to talk to him."

The Earl of Effingham shrugged."Let's see and then act. We must keep a close eye on Scarlett and his Grace _Duke_ _Vittorio Amedeo di Savoia_. I don't like him."

"And neither do I." Aylesbury nodded. "My people are checking the details of the Charleston tragedy now. They need a week or two more to have a full picture. I am more than sure that there is another person in this deal. Not everything ended in Charleston. It is my intuition."

"A shadow person… I agree with you."

"Yes, indeed. Besides, I want to know all the details because young _Marquis Geoffroy de Boisy_, my distant nephew, was killed in London by this crazy lady. I plan a sort of revenge."

"Silvia also killed _Marquis Mathieu de Bréval's_ son - Charles," Lord Effingham added sorrowfully. "Our friend's son."

"Unfortunately, it is so."

"I think Rhett Butler will be in Vienna in around two weeks. He won't delay in Paris."

"I agree. After he arrives, I plan to depart to Rome or Naples to Vittorio, the Duke of Naples, to where he goes after Vienna."

"It is a good idea, Philippe. You will watch him. Play at the card-table with him. You will become his buddy soon, especially after he loses another fortune, enough to buy the new villa in Rome." the Earl of Effingham let out an ironic laugh.

"No, I will let him win because to become friends the Duke of Naples must win." The Duke of Aylesbury laughed in response, and it was one of the few really sincere laughs in the past time for him. "Will you watch Scarlett with our people here in Vienna while I am in Italy?"

"Yes, I will. Better tell me when was the last time you saw your children and your wife Lady Georgette."

"I met them last month during the visit of our estate in Cornwall. My eldest son Jasper and my eldest daughter Madeleine with her two sons are in London in my house now, and I met them two weeks ago. My son Morgan has been in the South of France for three months by now, and he only visited London for a couple of days and only because Jasper is going to Vienna to propose to one lady. My son Christopher is in Scotland with Lord Marchmont and Annabelle. My daughter Genevieve and my son Jacob are with Lady Georgette now. At least, they were with her in Cornwall when I met them. I hope they aren't alone," Aylesbury said in a soft, sleepy way. "You know that they are a little younger than Jasper, Morgan, and Madeleine."

"Don't worry. Besides, Jacob and Genevieve are not small children, but rather very young people. Anyway, Jasper is in England and will take care of them."

"My wife can be in the boudoir of any of so-called respectable men in London, Julian. There was time when there were numerous bets regarding who would be Lady Georgette's next lover in White's betting book. I have heard that currently she is currently having an affair with the Marquess of Londonderry. It means that she stopped to be the Earl of Dartmouth's whore and Viscount Granville's whore."

"Aylesbury! Don't be so rude!" Effingham cried out.

"I just call the things straightforwardly, without scruple, Effingham. Lady Georgette is a cheap whore for everybody in the high society of London, and I got accustomed to be a cuckold, if counted, around thirty one years ago. But she is also a hippoed wife because I have never been faithful to her, except for the first years of our terrible marriage," the Duke of Aylesbury declared. "Not everybody has such a good wife like you, my friend," he added in a low voice, nearly a whisper.

"Lynnette is a good wife and the best mother."

"In contrast to Lady Georgette. And the fact that I don't have a good wife is Pierre Robillard's entire fault. I hope he rots in hell now. Damn Pierre Robillard!" Aylesbury sighed and closed his black eyes for instance to regain composure.

"Don't think about it. Don't hurt yourself more."

"You know better than somebody else that I had to marry this whore in order to have a new name, while she needed a man to cover her shame of being pregnant by unknown man. In addition, her family urgently needed money to redeem the debt created by _Jordan Theodore Arden, 7th Duke of Aylesbury_. Jordan was a well-known Regency buck and a debauchee in London. He spent and spent money uncontrollably." The Duke paused.

"There are still some unpleasant stories about him, although much time has passed since then," Julian added.

"Yes, it is so. _Jordan Theodore Arden, 7th Duke of Aylesbury_, will be remembered by his drunken parties and orgies for long time. You know that 7th Duke of Aylesbury had a fifteen-year-old daughter, my dear Lady Georgette, and debt, while my Uncle Jean-Baptiste had money. So the Duke of Aylesbury's younger, yet childless brother _Richard Russell_ _Arden_ adopted me, and I married Lady _Georgette Anne Arden_. I became _Philippe Justin Arden_. 7th Duke didn't have a son who could inherit the title, so that it was pre-agreed that after his death the title would go either to his younger brother Richard, my new father by adoption, and I will be his heir, or directly to me if Richard dies earlier than 7th Duke of Aylesbury. The marriage was a pure business arrangement – the new name in exchange for the money to pay off the debt. As a result, I redeemed their outstanding debt by Jean-Baptiste's money and became a cuckold at the time of calling my marriage vows in the church. When I married her, she was around eight months pregnant by another man. The marriage was registered eight months earlier – the date was forged to hide the fact of her pregnancy. Lady Georgette's father Jordan, his bother Richard, and my Uncle Jean-Baptiste organized everything. Anyway, the marriage was legal. In 1855, 7th Duke of Aylesbury died, while his younger brother Richard, my father by adoption, had died earlier, in 1850. So I inherited the title and became 8th Duke of Aylesbury. After my secret missions in the Middle East, India, Ceylon, and Burma, I earned good fortune on speculations and returned a very wealthy man."

"I remember this story as you told me about it many years ago. However, adoption doesn't make you noble, although your blood is indeed noble. Are you sure that there were no other distant relatives that could pretend for the title?" the Earl inquired.

"Certainly not," Aylesbury breathed. A semblance of smile manifested on his face. "There were only females among first cousins, second cousins, and third cousins from the side of the Ardens. Given that my real mother was a first cousin to Georgette's mother, I was the only living male first cousin for the Ardens. Yes, the Ardens and the Robillards are indeed related, but we still needed adoption to mask my identity."

"Moreover, the relation between the Ardens and the Robillards is undoubted because Constance, the wife of _Richard Russell Arden_, your father by adoption, was Pierre Robillard's youngest sister and Jean-Baptiste de Robillard's first cousin," the Earl of Effingham commented. "So your official life story sounds perfect for the European beau monde and the whole world. Your interest in the Robillards and your friendship with them looks quite logical."

"Yes, it is so. Constance also died many years ago," the Duke drawled. "When everything was arranged, Jean Baptiste's lawyer was sleeping in the office in order to be entirely sure that I would be the only legal heir to the title in the future, given that it is permitted for the title to be transferred through the heirs on the Arden's female lineage."

"I am happy to hear it," Effingham acknowledged.

"Nevertheless, I had to marry Lady Georgette because for me the sense wasn't in the title of the Duke, but rather in the new name and in the new life," the Duke added acidly.

"I understand, Philippe. I have always known that history pretty well. However, I have never fantasized that Madeleine, your eldest daughter, isn't yours by blood. I noticed that Madeleine has atypical for Northern Europeans appearance, but I disregarded that fact."

Aylesbury winked at Effingham. "Julian, you are too honorable to admit that such whores and deceivers like my wife, Lady Georgette, exist in reality, especially in Victorian England."

Lord Effingham screwed up his face in disgust. "Philippe, your wife is a real whore! She is a courtesan born in the noble family!" he exclaimed.

"I don't care, Julian," Aylesbury declared. "Madeleine is my daughter because I raised her as my own child. In contrast to her mother, she proved to be a natural lady. Unfortunately, she widowed quite early."

"Madeleine is a good girl." Effingham agreed. "Weren't you afraid that Georgette could have given birth to a son, not your son? In that case the boy would have been your heir apparent."

"I prayed to God that Georgette had been carrying a girl because I didn't want to give the title to the son of another, unknown man. I am happy now that my blood son Jasper is my heir apparent," Aylesbury enlightened.

"Soon your second son Morgan will be your heir apparent as Jasper becomes the Duke after you are granted the second dukedom," Effingham added.

Aylesbury drew the reins. "Julian, don't be modest. You will also be granted the second dukedom soon. After everything we had done for the British Crown in British India, it is evident that we must be rewarded."

"I know, Philippe." Effingham chuckled. Then he stared at his friend with silent question in his blue eyes."Are you sure that other children are yours, Philippe? I don't mean Jasper and Morgan who are your young copies, especially Jasper."

"Other children are mine because I had always taken my dear Lady Georgette to long trips before she got pregnant by me. I did this in order to observe her behavior and to be confident in my parenthood," the Duke elucidated.

"Your wife is a great trouble. I cannot consider her to be Lady Georgette, Philippe, although I am referring to her as a Lady."

The Duke of Aylesbury laughed, his laugh disrobing bitterness and tragedy. "Julian, I am referring to my dear wife as Lady Georgette in an ironic sense. She is a whore, and she has always been a whore."

"I know when you use a dark irony, Philippe."

Aylesbury sighed. "I was the very young Robillard gentleman in a great trouble thanks to this damned Pierre Robillard, villainous and barbaric creature. I had no other alternative, excluding my death or marriage. I wanted to live, so that I married her."

"Philippe, at least you were lucky to have this alternative, and you are the infamous, very rich Duke of Aylesbury now." the Earl shook his head. "Do you know the name of Madeleine's father?"

"Lady Georgette never told me about him. And I didn't ask," Aylesbury said.

"He should be an aristocrat from Southern Europe," Effingham assumed.

"For example, an Italian aristocrat," Aylesbury retorted. "Madeleine has too much from Italians in appearance."

"Exactly."

"Julian, Lady Georgette didn't want to have children within several years after Madeleine's birth. As a result, she didn't want to sleep with me after Madeleine's birth. However, as her wicked nature prevailed, she capitulated and soon got pregnant by me." Aylesbury paused. "I still remember how angry Lady Georgette was when she got pregnant by me in a month after Madeleine's birth. She was furious, throwing the things and breaking the plates at the dinner table. You know that there is only ten months difference between Jasper and Madeleine." Aylesbury's voice suddenly trailed off.

"I remember, Philippe. It was awful. At that evening you came to my house and spent the night there."

"I couldn't withstand the fact that the woman was ready to abort her own child just because she had recently given birth to another child. It was especially disgusting given the fact that Lady Georgette warned me that we must have many children in order to secure the heritage in bloodline."

"Philippe, you should probably divorce now, shouldn't you? This marriage is a wild, unbearable torment for both you and Georgette," Effingham assumed, his blue eyes revealing compassion.

A wistful smile flitted across Aylesbury's face. "I promised Lady Georgette's father that I wouldn't divorce her. Besides, so many years passed. Now it doesn't matter. And I don't want to produce a scandal and put another black shadow on our reputation."

Effingham's blue eyes met Aylesbury's black. "Philippe, did your wife indeed want to cease her pregnancy when she was carrying your first son Jasper?"

"Yes, Julian. I didn't let her do it." The Duke of Aylebsury averted his gaze.

"Oh, Philippe! I don't know what to say. I don't understand such strange women."

Aylebsury pulled the reins to speed up the horses. "My dear wife, my dear Lady Georgette has always disliked Jasper in particular as he had always been so similar to me in appearance and in character. The same happened with Morgan as Lady Georgette had never liked him."

Lord Effingham smiled. "Jasper and Morgan are excellent sons, and you should be proud of them, Philippe."

A gracious smile stole over Aylesbury's face across his lips. "Your children are also the dignified offspring of the great man Julian St John Lessard."

"Thank you, comrade." Effingham laughed. "And Jasper and Morgan love women, like their father does," he added.

"Morgan simply hasn't met his love yet, but I hope that it will happen soon. Jasper has met his love, and he will marry soon. My children took more after the Robillards than after the Ardens, especially our natural grace and gentlehood, as well as our traditional fearlessness, willpower, and vivacity. Pierre Robillard was a bad exception among the Robillards, but he was skillful to mask his true character, and this damned squalid rascal stole all my life." As he said that, the Duke of Aylebsury drew a ragged breath, and then another deep breath, and then another one.

"Philippe, don't torment yourself. Don't remember that man."

Aylebsury held his gaze ahead as they were passing the mansions along the street. "We live in the world of trumpery and cajolement, and Pierre Robillard was one of the most hypocritical representatives of this world."

"Unfortunately, it is the dark truth," Lord Effingham agreed.

Aylebsury pulled out the reigns to stop the horses and spoke in English. "We arrived, Julian. Look, we arrived in my house on _Herrengasse_ in Vienna. Welcome," he announced.

At the same time, Scarlett checked in the hotel. Leontine began to unpack things, while Blanche and Isabelle were settled for a day nap. Being physically nearly exhausted on the back of long journey and continuous weakness due to the poisoning, Scarlett decided to have a nap in her bedroom, but once upon resting her head on the pillow, her train of thoughts tore along to her former husband. She was thinking that Rhett was probably on his way to Paris from London. Scarlett feverishly tried to account how many days Rhett would need to get to Vienna, of course, if he wanted to find her there. She elicited that he would probably come within a week or two at most. Silently, Scarlett prayed to God for Rhett to stop being so impassive and for evolving into an active man who goes and gets what he wants not only in business, but also in personal life. She scorned Rhett's apathetic strategy of being a looker-on and an escapee when it comes to private things with women.

The maid Leontine knocked at Scarlett's door and entered the bedchamber.

"Madame Scarlett, Monsieur Vittorio asked whether you want to visit the Vienna Opera House in the next three days," Leontine asked.

"Leontine, have Vittorio mentioned which opera he suggests us to listen to?" Scarlett inquired, not looking at the girl.

"Monsieur Vittorio meant _Fidelio_. He said that it is the Beethoven's only opera."

"Please, tell Vittorio that it will be a great pleasure for me," Scarlett answered in agitation as she wanted to experience Vienna as a charming city of music. "Bring to me my pills."

"I will inform Monsieur Vittorio. Madame, please take them. Will you have a lunch?"

"Thank you, Leontine. I will lie down instead of a lunch because I am very tired. Please, wake me up in three hours before the dinner. I want to spend the whole evening with my daughters."

"Fine, Madame Scarlett," Leontine said.

"Thank you, Leontine."

"Madame Scarlett, what should I say if his Grace the Duke of Naples asks for you?"

Scarlett sighed. "Please, tell him that I am tired and that I plan to spend the evening with the children. I can have the late dinner with Vittorio," Scarlett supplied.

Leontine smiled vaguely. "I will do this if his Grace comes."

"Thank you, Leontine. Now please leave me alone," she instructed.

As Leontine left, Scarlett again abstracted in her thoughts. She was thinking about Annabelle and friendship. In the past, she didn't have loyal, reliable friends because she communicated with people if they were useful for her business and making money or if she needed to spend time out of sheer idleness. When Scarlett got married to Rhett, a plenty of _Carpetbaggers_, so-called _white trash_, appeared in her company, and these people seemed to have all the money they wanted and they cared for nothing. She recalled how Rhett introduced her to numerous "friends of him" in New Orleans during their honeymoon and in Atlanta as crowds of them flowed to her extravagant dark house on Peachtree Street. Scarlett still recalled what ravishment for the meetings with them she felt. However, she considered all of them strange and didn't understand them because they looked like people who lived too long close to danger to be ever careless and their eyes were always blazing in undeniable but masked alert and anxiety. These people came across as not having pasts or futures and discouraged any questions about their lives. Rhett called them "_second-raters, black sheep, and rascals_" and "_Carpetbag aristocrats._" Scarlett recalled that when Rhett told her what his real opinion of them had been, she didn't understand him and hence didn't believe him. In the meantime, Scarlett treated them as friends.

In her current life, among the beau monde of France and Europe, Scarlett didn't have many loyal friends, except for Annabelle. She was living a hypocritical life of a pure noblewoman covering her sincere desires and fears by the mask of polite indifference and nonchalance. These people from the high society undoubtedly admired her, and some even worshiped her. They were meeting on the balls, art events, some charity events, and at the card table when they talked about new fashion, gossips, news from art and music life, political situation in a particular European country, and, of course, money. Among these talks, Scarlett found that she mostly liked talks about fashion, art, or music. She wasn't interested in gossips about who gave birth to whom, lovers and new love affairs and tried to skip these idle talks. She talked about political situation because it exerted certain influence on her welfare and where to invest money. Scarlett liked how these people looked at her and envied her, like it was in the past when the finest people of Atlanta, starving in the after-way period, looked at her with condemnation when she changed husbands, was involved in male activities in Frank's store and her sawmill business, and built her "mausoleum" to make other people jealous of her money. In general, many of these aristocrats and enrich representatives of French _bourgeoisie _could be called friends.

Suddenly, a twinge of heart pain and disenchantment overcame Scarlett's body when she compared her so-called friends from the past, _Carpetbag aristocrats_, and from the present, _French bourgeoisie _and _old aristocrats_. They were called differently, but the true sense of these friends was the same. They were illusion of friendship, nothing more than just personification of trumpery and cajolement. Hypocrisy, flattery, mindlessness, and cajolement lied on the other hand of the medal in high European society. Scarlett knew that she couldn't have come to anybody of them and asked for help in the critical moment or pour her heart out to any of them. Nobody of them ever would have listened to her problems and help her analyze her life. The real value of their friendship was striving to zero, excluding that in business and various intrigues Scarlett abstained from.

Only now, in the enormous maze of the past life reflections and life contemplation, Scarlett grasped the truth of Rhett's words. "_Scarlett, you are a constant joy to me._ _You unerringly manage to pick the wrong people and the wrong things…_" was buzzing in her eyes, being nothing else but Rhett's words he spoke out to her during their honeymoon in New Orleans. Scarlett's new friends from the upper-class society and old friends from the _white trash_ of American South were her continues, life-long mistakes. Having escaped from the States, Scarlett was trapped in the same cobweb of insincerity, immorality, and feints. The conclusion was that she had escaped from her tragic past and from her artificial friends in the United States, but eventually arrived at the same lugubrious present and semblant friends. Why did it happen with her? How could she so blind again?

Scarlett reasoned that the same had happened with Rhett because in his dangerously adventurous life he didn't make good friends, apart from, perhaps, Belle Watling, who was now dead. But Belle loved Rhett, so she wasn't a real friend in its formal definition. Rhett understood human weaknesses and characters very well and skillfully used this for his own advantage in business and in any case when he needed something from somebody. However, like Scarlett, Rhett failed to establish relations with sincere people who love you for what you are and not for your money or status. Scarlett's mind reproduced that Rhett had laughed at her that she had had no instinct to distinguish between the cheap and the great. The grotesque of his words and teachings to Scarlett was that, contemplating and analyzing, Rhett also failed in the area of people's relations, like Scarlett, but he never recognized it, as she was convinced.

"Rhett, this is a comical paradox that you made a laughing stock of me that I didn't understand what these people truly were like, while, not being blind about their true nature, you suffered a setback in the area of human relations," Scarlett laughed outright when the reality opened to her.

Scarlett comprehended that a genuine friend loves or likes another person for the sake of that other person. Yes, a true, valuable friendship was a reciprocal good will of two human beings, on condition that each party recognizes and appreciates this attitude in the other. Scarlett acknowledged that she had only two true, _bona fide_ friends – Melanie Wilkes and Annabelle de Robillard. Melanie Wilkes… Scarlett appraised the true virtue of Melanie's attitude to her and loved her genuinely only after Melly had died, and once again she felt repentance and self-condemnation relative to her past treatment of Melanie. And Annabelle was alive… Scarlett's reasoning about the friendship resulted in awareness of her strong aspirations to find _François Maximilien Xavier de Montmorin, 9th Marquis de Saint-Hérem _– she wanted to help her only _bona fide_ friend who rescued her from the greatest tragedy in her personal life by stopping Rhett and Silvia's wedding. A tide of warm, powerful affection and sincere love gripped all her creature, and she swore to herself and to God that she would do everything possible to help Annabelle. Yes, Annabelle was Scarlett's only friend, so much alike her, with tragic fate, but a fighter and a survivor like she was.

Scarlett also remembered her trip to Ireland when she felt so soul-balanced, existing in harmony with the world and the Earth. She wondered how they could be so happy without money and status; how they could live without preposterous care for respectability, ceremoniousness, and other damned conventionalities, so-called Victorian manners. Scarlett has never been a proper lady in its true sense, and she didn't manage to become this true lady in her new European aristocratic life as she was always involved in various scandals associated with her extravagant clothes improper for particular occasions; rebuffing of condemnations and attacks from the members of high society in the sharp, witty manner, at times even rough; being involved in manlike business activities as she still invested money in some businesses; refusing meekness and modesty as beautiful virtues in their true sense and so on.

At present, at one side she was still the old Scarlett, but on the other hand, she was the new Scarlett, pretending and masking her true senses from the outside world. Yes, she became a good player in Rhett's game of self-masquerade, but that game didn't bring her happiness. And while Scarlett wasn't ready to abdicate completely from her luxurious aristocratic life, she felt that she would no longer able to tolerate her past hypocritical life. No, she would never wear the mask of polite indifference and nonchalance. It would never happen with her again. In addition, she no longer will mask her true feelings and abandon for tomorrow the solution of her private deals and problems. She will be what she is and people will love her for what she is and what she has done for them, not for her status and her money, which she had in abundance.

She was sure that she would be able to put off the mask from her pretty face and externalize all her intentions to take the best from her Irish and French ancestors. Scarlett wanted to visit Ireland once again because it was the place where she had began to think about the absurdity of her aristocratic life for the first time in the past years and, most importantly, she really liked her O'Hara kins. She no longer longed so much for her Parisian noble life and, having remembered about Toulouse, Southern France, strengthened her desire to go there soon. Indeed, Southern France was different from Paris because people there had alive, vivacious, and passionate spirit in contrast to the stricter mannerism and the general coldness of the French capital and all the more much colder and restrained England with its Victorian high standards of moral and intimate restraint.

Indeed, wasn't her live in Paris associated only with laziness and entertainment? Of course, Scarlett followed the political situation in the country, not interfering in any political alliances, and she did and resolved some business matters in relation to the good fortune she inherited from her grandfather Pierre Robillard and her last husband Mathieu. In the meantime, the majority of her time was occupied by her daughters, Annabelle, and the life of a noble lady. Ignoring a great amount of time spent in solitude with her children and Annabelle, Scarlett's time was filled up with walking, riding, balls, dinners, charity events, art events, as well as receiving or paying visits. The morning usually started with breakfast, the time with children and Annabelle, as well as the work in the study room up till the lunch and at times later. At times, exhibitions and morning concerts occupied much of their leisure time, and they usually took both Blanche and Isabelle with them. A typical activity was a walking in _Jardin des Tuileries _at a certain hour and in a certain part, usually also with the children, whilst their carriage waited for them.

After dinner, which usually terminated about eight in the evening, the children were arranged for bed with Scarlett reading for them a bed-time story. After this Scarlett and Annabelle proceeded to balls at the mansions and villas of the richest people of Paris, were paying visits and receiving visits at their mansions, or went to the theaters, to those most in vogue, including _Opéra Garnier_ or _Académie de Musique_, _Comic Opera_, and _Théâtre Français_. After the balls or the theater performances were over, they generally lounged into some luxurious coffee-houses, and then the day ended. Next day they followed much the same course, with some trifling variation. For Scarlett all these activities were associated with scandals and numerous rumors around her. One of the favorite pursuits was fashion and shopping, as well as riding and everything which is connected with horses, such as looking at racing and steeple chasing at the hippodrome. But weren't all of these activities related to a world of trumpery and cajolement? The answer was quite evident – they were the organic part of that illusionary life.

"It is never too late to be what you might have been. If I try I will be able to do it," Scarlett pronounced in her mind crisply. "I have no doubts that I will succeed."

* * *

_A Christmas present for you, my dear readers - the new chapter!_

_I hope you will like it. Try to think what intrigue is going to happen here._

_What do you think about the Duke of Aylebsury now? He is a very complicated character._

_The Duke of Aylesbury and Lord Effingham firstly appear in Chapter 9. Later they reappear in Chapters 37 and 38, and then the Duke of Aylesbury reappears in Chapter 39. I advise to have a look on these chapters to better understand them as characters especially (Chapters 9 and 39) because they will play an important role in intrigues. The genealogy of the Robillards is given in Chapter 13._

_Thank you to everybody for the reviews in advance. Believe me that your opinion is very much appreciated._


	58. Chapter 58

**Chapter 58**

**In pursuit of fate: from London through Paris to Vienna**

Rhett arrived in Paris near the midday in three days after he had left London. He decided to spend a night in Paris and successfully checked in the _Hôtel de Crillon _in _Champs Elysees_ neighborhood. He usually stayed in this hotel when he was in Paris. As he had his bath and a short lunch at the hotel, Rhett headed to _Monsieur Pierre Jean François Blanick_'s office on _Avenue Montaigne._

Like Scarlett herself, Rhett chuckled that the lawyer's office was located on _Avenue Montaigne_ or _Widows' alley_, which was the street that was named as though in the honor of Scarlett who widowed three times. Rhett arrived at the office of Blanicks and Co at around two in the afternoon, but he had to wait for around an hour as the lawyer _Pierre Jean François Blanick _was busy with other clients. Rhett was even afraid that Monsieur Pierre Blanick wouldn't accept him on that day. However, the lawyer's assistant assured him that Monsieur Pierre would love to have a meeting with Rhett and asked to wait for him. Finally, the assistant invited Rhett to come to the lawyer's study room at half past three in the afternoon.

As Rhett expected, _Pierre Jean François Blanick_ was an old French man, too accurate and too attentive to details, as all lawyers were. The lawyer apologized several times for a delay in meeting Rhett and explained that he hadn't expected Rhett to come to Paris so quickly. Indeed, Pierre Blanick was caught off balance as he didn't expect Rhett to arrive only in three days after Scarlett's visit. The lawyer paraphrased Scarlett's words to Rhett, smiling in his mind in the anticipation of the dramatic pinnacle between these two people who manifestly were in amorous whirl and strong languor for each other. Rhett's meeting with the lawyer went quite smoothly.

When the lawyer told Rhett that Scarlett was in Vienna, a broad smile stirred his lips and animated his swarthy face. Rhett comprehended that Scarlett had deliberately asked the lawyer to inform him about her location. Most likely, as Rhett reasoned, Scarlett wanted to test him what he would do if he learnt where she went. Rhett also grasped that Scarlett would try to find Annabelle's fiancé in Austria and felt proud of Scarlett as she was helping her friend so much.

"Monsieur Butler, if I may ask, do you understand that the recognition of the fatherhood by you will result in the scandal?" the old lawyer asked.

"Naturally," Rhett said wryly.

"In this case, perhaps, you can draw on a wealth of common sense and practicality and do either nothing or just restrict your activities by customary adoption."

"No," Rhett said curtly.

"Oh, Monsieur Butler," Pierre Blanick gasped. "When Madame de Bréval came to me, we didn't discuss in details how we would approach this rather sensitive issue. She only said that you would probably want to give to the children your surname. I used to think that it would be made in the form of adoption."

Rhett glanced at him attentively. "I understand, but adoption is not enough."

"In this case, how will we try if not avoid, but at least to slacken the consequences of the scandal?"

"There is one way – getting a new name and status," Rhett informed him gently, deliberately vague.

The lawyer arched his brows in silent question. "A new name?"

Rhett stroke his mustache. "Yes, a sort of a new name," he stated with infuriating calm.

"What do you mean?" Pierre Blanick demanded. "We can admit neither inaccuracies nor omissions now."

"My mother Eleanor's mother had a sister in England who married _the_ _Marquess of Rockingham_. Although much time passed, my mother has always kept in touch with her English relatives. The old Marquess of Rockingham died several months ago without male heirs. He had only one living daughter Harriett, who is now a middle-aged and childless lady, and she is my mother's distant relative. The old Marquis didn't have brothers and even male cousins. It appears that I am the closest male distant relative through the Rockingham's connections with my mother and hence with the Butlers," Rhett said.

"Do you mean that you can claim this title, Monsieur Butler?"

"I mean it," he drawled in a soft, savage voice. He extracted a cigar from the silver case and lit it. "Although my mother's mother relocated to the South a long time ago, the connections through blood remained. Now I am the eldest man among the relatives, so that I can become _8th Marquess of Rockingham_ in accordance with the peerage of United Kingdom."

"This will help," the lawyer agreed, smiling broadly.

Rhett rubbed his cheek. "Exactly."

"You can claim your daughters under the same surname - Butler, but in the completely new status – _the_ _Marquess of Rockingham's _children."

"By the way, my roots are in Ireland and England. My ancestors migrated to the States many years ago. I am descending in the male line from the Butler family, which is quite famous in Ireland and England as traced back to the 14th century when 1st Earl of Ormonde appeared in Ireland. In the beginning of the 19th century, the Butler family's title was upgraded to _the_ _Marquess of Ormonde_ from the Earl of Ormonde," Rhett added.

The lawyer shook his head in understanding. "I have heard about the Ormonde noble house. It is great to know that you are their relative. It will help you to connect with the society in England."

"Certainly," Rhett uttered and rubbed his cheek. "I had received a letter from my relatives in England before the departure to London. In London I met the lawyer and some of my relatives. Everything was confirmed. However, the paperwork will take some time, a month or so, and thus right now we don't need to draft any documents certifying my fatherhood."

"We can wait as long as we need, Monsieur Butler."

"Yes, we will wait. Personally, I don't care for the title. I am doing this for the sake of the children. Also, I understand pretty well that it can help to decrease the consequences of the scandal."

Pierre cast at Rhett an approving glance. "This is a wise decision."

A lazy, devastating smile suddenly swept across Rhett's tanned features. "I trust so."

"Monsieur Butler, please let me know when you are done with the title claim."

"Certainly, Monsieur Blanick," Rhett said.

Pierre smiled at him. "Thank you, Monsieur Butler."

Rhett gave to the lawyer a dispassionate glance. "Moreover, we will have to say in the public that _Mathieu Paul Louis de Harlay de Champvallon, 13th Marquis de Bréval_, didn't recognize them as his own children."

Pierre shrugged in uncertainty. "I am sorry, but I don't understand."

Rhett inhaled cigar smoke. His voice was calm, nonchalant, and confident. "I mean that in public we must spread the story that there were no any papers certifying Monsieur de Bréval's fatherhood. We will say that the girls have always been Butlers. I guess nobody ever asked about their father as Scarlett was married. Since nobody asked - nobody replied. There were no papers, but Monsieur de Bréval knew that the girls weren't his when he married Scarlett, which is truth – he indeed knew. We will say that I recognized them as my children after the divorce. This will be the official story for the society, which will help save the children from the scandal."

"But in this case you, Monsieur Butler, you and Madame de Bréval will suffer," Pierre objected. The lawyer wasn't sure that it had been the best idea.

"Yes, it is so, but our task is to isolate the children from the scandal. Scarlett and I will survive," Rhett parried. "Scarlett's reputation won't suffer considerably because it is I, not she, who claimed the children and divorced her. Anyway, I guess the scandal associated with the divorce had already impacted Scarlett's reputation enough in the past. Now it will do little new harm."

"I hope so." Pierre Blanick nodded lightly. He stared at Rhett with intensity and accurately remarked: "Monsieur Butler, I am sorry for what I have to say. I know that it is not my deal, but I must say this as Madame de Bréval is my good client and I respect her very much. Moreover, she was Monsieur Mathieu de Bréval's wife, and I had known Monsieur Mathieu during his whole life."

"That's alright. What do you want to tell me?" Rhett emboldened him.

"In your case it is better to be married to Madame de Bréval. Marriage will help blow the scandal out."

Rhett admitted with a lopsided grin. "Of course, I understand, Monsieur Blanick. Don't worry."

Pierre Blanick's face clouded. "Monsieur Butler, I am very sorry for making his remark, but we must also think about the good name and the reputation of my former client – _Marquis Mathieu de Bréval_. He was a dignified, honorable man and I don't want his reputation to suffer as a result of the recognition of your parenthood. I am sorry for being so straightforward, but I must say that I care very much for Monsieur Mathieu's reputation, even if he had already died. God rest to his soul! He was such an honorable man!" The lawyer paused and looked at Rhett, his eyes scrupulously assessing his reaction. "Believe me that my client Madame Scarlett de Breval would agree with me."

Rhett slightly frowned, staring at the space beyond the man's shoulder, his eyes distant and cold. He wanted not to care for the things the old lawyer was talking about, but in fact he cared. The fact was that he didn't want to make Scarlett's deceased husband _Marquis Mathieu de Bréval_ look as a cuckold. Therefore, he understood Scarlett and Pierre Blanick's position. They would have to study that matter very scrupulously, Rhett mused. He would talk about the deal with Scarlett in Vienna.

After an awkward pause, he stared at Pierre and chuckled. "Monsieur Blanick, I will discuss all the options with Madame de Bréval in Vienna. We will try to find a compromise when the reputation of Scarlett's deceased husband won't suffer."

After a heavy pause, Pierre nodded his head. "I hope so, Monsieur Butler. Have a safe journey to Vienna."

Having spent in Paris only one day, the same evening Rhett embarked the train and left Paris with the final destination in Vienna. His journey was going to be quite long and cumbersome, but he didn't care. The only thing that he had in his mind was that he was going to Scarlett and his children and that he would meet them soon. He could think only about those things, as well as about his future life with Scarlett and his past mistakes.

"Now I am going to Vienna! Life with Scarlett will never be like dying of boredom. In pursuit of our fate – from London through Paris to Vienna," Rhett thought. Then he laughed joyfully at himself and at the whole situation.

Rhett sighed as he knew that both Rhett and Scarlett were blackguards, but Scarlett turned out to be more responsible and strong personality than Rhett was. She didn't drink her sorrow and didn't want her life to go on the downward spiral to her eventual death, like Rhett. She was a survivor and a fighter, and, being abandoned by her husband and carrying his children, she wasn't afraid to leave the States and face her fate in the unknown, antagonistic life of old Europe. Rhett admired Scarlett for her survivor qualities and ability to regenerate from the ashes to the stars, her determination and go-and-get-it approach. Painfully for his ego and self-respect, he recognized that Scarlett was a woman with strength of iron, perhaps, even greater strength than his own.

Soon Rhett was sitting on the train from Paris to Lyon. His journey to Vienna promised to be very complicated and rather long because he will have to stop and change the trains many times. At first, Rhett took the train from Paris to Lyon where in the next morning he had to change train for the train leaving for Dijon. The train was moving very slowly and stopped many times, and it took Rhett nearly two days to arrive in Lyon.

After a long journey from Paris, Rhett was so tired that he decided to stay in Lyon for another day. Lyon was a city in east-central France in _the Rhône-Alpes region_, situated between Paris and Marseilles. Rhett remembered that during the Renaissance period Lyon had developed with the silk trade, especially with Italy. Thanks to the silk trade, in 19th Lyon became an important industrial city. As he had time, Rhett visited two silk mills and examined the production capacities. The reason was that due to his decision to stay with Scarlett and his daughters and Robert in Europe and possibly in France, Rhett was thinking about making new investments in Europe, and silk mills in Lyon represented a profitable opportunity for it. As France sank into a deep economic depression as the country had been defeated in _the Franco-Prussian war of 1870-1871_, Rhett could buy these silk mills quite cheaply, wait, and then sell them a higher price. Rhett considered it to be a perfect business opportunity.

What Rhett didn't like in Lyon was the strong Lyonese accent in French, which was spoken by the inhabitants of the city. The issue was that although the Lyonese dialect was mostly replaced by the French language as the importance of Lyon grew, the dialect was still alive and in addition some "frenchified" Franco-Provencal words were often heard in the French spoken by the dwellers of Lyon. However, in several hours Rhett's ears got accustomed to this phenomenon and began to understand everything that was spoken around him.

In a day, Rhett left Lyon, taking the midday train to _Dijon_. Again, the journey was rather long as the train wasn't an express train to Dijon and hence stopped numerous times. He arrived in Dijon next day at eight in the morning, missing the train to Geneva. In Dijon Rhett had to spend the whole day because the next train to Geneva was leaving only in the early morning of next day. Rhett was outraged and the only thing that cooled his anger was the fact that he had some time to look around Dijon that was the center of the Burgundy region. Burgundy was the province that was home to the Dukes of Burgundy from the early 11th century until the late 15th century, and Dijon was a place of tremendous wealth and power and one of the great European centers of art, learning and science. Only that fact soothed Rhett's anger that was triggered by the necessity to spend the whole day in Dijon.

Next morning Rhett arrived at the railway station in the center of Dijon. He took the earliest train to Geneva and finally at seven in the morning left Dijon. Upon arrival in Geneva, Rhett again had to change the train. He was lucky and in two hours succesfully boarded the train leaving for Zurich. He planned to spend a night in the hotel in Zurich and then in the early hours of next morning to take a direct train from Zurich to Vienna. In accordance with his estimations, it should take him around a week and a half to get to Vienna from Paris.

During his journey, Rhett had a plenty of time to think about his past life and his relations with Scarlett. He was thinking about his mistakes and their games, his love for her and about the future life. Rhett's mind was swirling in contradictory thoughts. He thanked God for Scarlett being alive and desperately wanted her to step on the road of full recovery from poisoning. When Rhett thought that she was dead, a part of him died, and he looked at all his life through the prism of self-disappointment, condemnation, and anger at himself. Now he knew that there was a chance for him to repair the damage, hoping that it wasn't irredeemable. However, Rhett realized that Scarlett wouldn't be pleased with what happened because of him. He was sure that Scarlett wouldn't open her gorgeous arms in love embrace to him. He knew Scarlett too well to be naive and expect rain-bow, warm welcome.

At first, Rhett was entirely crushed by Bonnie's death to believe her that she loved him and later his ego and self-esteem were wounded by Scarlett's escape from Charleston, which prevented him from pursuing her in Europe. Later it was Rhett who unexpectedly burst into her well-disposed, customary life of the aristocratic lady and brought with him calamity associated with Silvia Dawson. Rhett knew that two people, including the son of Scarlett's late husband, were killed by Silvia, and he concluded that Scarlett wouldn't be happy to know whose fault it was. Thereunto, in substance Rhett comprehended that he ran away from her when she was dying in London while he was drinking his sorrow at first in London and then in Charleston. She was sick and was suffering, while he did everything to overindulge himself with alcohol to dampen his pain. In addition, Rhett had almost married another woman. He needed to explain to Scarlett so many things.

Rhett acknowledged that his actions confirmed what Scarlett wrote in her farewell letter in relation to their love being associated with distrust, mortification, irresponsibility, chagrin, and even betrayal. He sneaked out of his responsibility again by leaving sick Scarlett and their children alone in Europe. He was brave enough to admit to himself that he acted not only like a bastard and an incorrigible skunk, but also as a weakling and a milk-toast, which was so similar to Ashley Wilkes whom Rhett always accused of being a dreamer and a namby-pamby, unable to adapt to harsh reality and living in the old, antebellum days, collecting dreams from literature.

Now Rhett was afraid that, trying to protect herself, Scarlett would put on her face the old mask of calm indifference and nonchalance and that she would treat him like a stranger. The question was how he could break her fence of estrangement and coldness. He wanted to make her believe that he loved her and was ready to do everything for her. He needed to destroy her associations of their love with innocent blood, sorrow, mortification, mistrust, and unhappiness.

Rhett knew that he was an incorrigible renegade, an adventurer-taker, and a dashing outcast by nature, and boring life in backwater wasn't suitable for him. Being freedom-loving and otherwise-minded man, he couldn't live in Charleston thirty years ago, and it was naive to assume that he would ever adapt to archaism, drastic plainness, and shiftlessness in both politic and economic areas. However, it also wasn't possible for Rhett to adapt to sterile prerogatives of European aristocratic society, which was interested in rank, money, possession, and little else, although there were greater indulgence of society and etiquette rules and more headmost thinking in Europe than in the American South. Rhett concluded that he was mistaken that he would ever be able to become a proper Charleston gentleman, and his stupid attempt to readjust himself was done at the expense of the troubles for the whole Butler family as their reputation had been brought down in flames. Rhett was a typical representative of American financial aristocracy with its innovative and progressive thinking; doubtful and caddish-related methods of enrichment; go-aheadness in both business and attitude to society rules; general extravagance of lifestyle. Rhett concluded that the South wasn't suitable for him with its conservatism and secular archaism and it would be easier for him to live in the North of the United States or Europe.

Rhett felt that he no longer would be able to lead the same life as he had had before. He was saturated with everything that entertained him in his youth and served as a balsam for his bruised heart during the time of his loveless marriage, including non-stop gambling activities, bedding whores, risky adventures that promised new ill-gotten money. Now, it was indeed a moment of getting some certainty in his life, a moment of settling down with one woman he loved - his Scarlett. However, Rhett was sure that he would be unable to live in the same place, but knowing Scarlett, who was so much alike him, he was convinced that they would never live in one place. Most likely, they will travel and spend some time of the year in Europe and, maybe, some time still in the States. In the meantime, Rhett knew that after what the great scandal around his family in Charleston, he was better to leave the South if not permanently, but at least for some time. He had nothing left in the States. He hated Charleston and Atlanta. No, never would he be able to come back to these terrible cities and live there on permanent basis. Too many tragedies happened in the South, and Rhett desperately wanted to run away from pain and sorrow. Rhett has always liked Paris and London, and living a part of the year with Scarlett in Paris was a good option for him.

Rhett recognized that he was a coward who ran away from all personal problems physically by leaving Scarlett after the nights of passion and spiritually by not showing his love in a clearer way before the official divorce. He regretted that he played his game of cool indifference during their loveless marriage, at least till the moment when he carried her upstairs on the night of Ashley's birthday. Now he clearly saw that she was ready to open her heart to him after he got back home with Bonnie from London, when his nasty barb about having miscarriage caused her fall down the stairs. Rhett concluded that if he hadn't been a foolish coward, he would have stopped the game of impassive indifference on the day of his arrival from London, which could have saved the life of their unborn child.

However, he went even further and transformed his game of polite indifference and nonchalance to the cruel game of entire visible alienation and estrangement from Scarlett and everything associated with their marriage. He started this second game on the day of Melanie's death due to his fear that Scarlett would run away from him to Ashley Wilkes's bed. This second game was more difficult for Rhett as he had to plunge himself into his pre-war lifestyle of unmarried bachelor against his will, which eventually turned out to be associated with moral decadency and physical degrade on the back of immoderate drinking and carnival activities.

With a heavy sigh of self-disappointment and self-contempt, Rhett summed up that the simplified version of his game resulted in the divorce and the death of their unborn child, as well as party in Bonnie's death, while more sophisticated game led to the final disgrace of the whole Butler family in Charleston and, probably, in the whole South in the light of the several recent scandals; the death of his another unborn child as a result of Scarlett's poisoning; the death of two other people who weren't related to Scarlett and Rhett's story – _Marquis_ _Geoffroy de Boisy_ and young _Marquis_ _Charles de Bréval_; his separation from the only woman he loved and his detachment from his two small daughters as he didn't see how they were born and missed a part of their life; Belle Watling's death and Robert's orphanage; Silvia Dawson's suicide in the church. The result was the deepest aching spaces in his and her hearts.

"I played madly and recklessly with my own and Scarlett's lives, but I didn't know that I was playing with the life of my two daughters. Now I have only my daughters," Rhett identified the real problem. "Damn these games… Damn this indifference-courtesy game."

Moreover, Scarlett took up the initiative in his own game and became an actress of aristocratic polite indifference and courtesy, having learnt his lesson pretty well. Thrilled with the sensation of chasmal regret, Rhett found strengths in himself and wounded his ego as he acknowledged that one of the initial mistakes in their marriage was caused by his game of a stranger, which made their relations non-transparent and insincere from the very beginning of their marriage and partly caused Scarlett to lock away from Rhett even in a usual everyday conversation.

During their marriage, he was bathing in a cynical, lop-sided strategy of protecting himself from Scarlett, never thinking about her state of mind and accepting his initial belief that she had loved Ashley Wilkes, status, and money. He knew that in reality she had loved a dream of Ashley. He made a laughing stock of Ashley's incapability to adjust to after-war life and intimidated Ashley as a weakling and namby-pamby. As a result, Rhett failed to put Scarlett on road to Damascus and moved her final enlightenment away from their path even before the divorce. It was comical to recognize that not only Scarlett had been the lost cause in their marriage, but rather he had been. His self-respect and self-admiration were buried in the monstrosity house in Atlanta on the day when Rhett didn't prevent the tragedy of her fall from the staircase. Later, he completely buried himself in the crumbled pieces of spiritual withering and physical decomposition on top of more moral decay.

Mirthlessly, he was a fool in fancy pants, weakling in personal affairs, and a lost cause in his relations with Scarlett, as Rhett thought on the way to Vienna. Of course, the guilt for the failure of their marriage was mutual, but Rhett knew that he was older and more experienced than Scarlett was. Despite all his real-life experience and knowledge of human nature, he failed to guide Scarlett on her road to her maturing and growing up from childish dreams. He asked himself whether he had really known Scarlett as well as he claimed this to be. Unfortunately, the answer was evident – he lost the track of the evolution of Scarlett's thoughts and character somewhere in the time when he had carried her upstairs on the night of memorable Ashley's birthday. Yes, the great Rhett Butler finally agreed that he wasn't omniscient, always-correct, innate conqueror, fighting woes and misfortunes by one single wave of his tanned masculine hand. Rhett inferred that his marriage to Scarlett was an abrasive, satirical play, full of parody and grotesque, which they both created.

"I was the initial lost cause and finally lost in the whole game," Rhett laughed bitterly. "I even taught Scarlett to play my games. Only I can be blamed for teaching her to play the polite indifference and courtesy game."

Sitting on a comfortable sofa in a first-class compartment of the train from Paris to Geneva, Rhett smiled to himself. Rhett didn't want masks and games anymore and was vexed by a restless desire for change in his and Scarlett's lives. Knowing that she was emotionally devastated, physically struggling with the side effects of poisoning and consequences of recent miscarriage, he felt his duty to take a leading role in their renewed relationship. Rhett's age-old mating, nesting and family-protection instincts naturally directed him to find Scarlett in Vienna and talk to her heart-to-heart. The melodious voice of Heaven inspired him to be chasing after her, explaining the reasons underneath this chagrined muddle with his preposterous marriage to Silvia Dawson, and taking away the pain from her bleeding heart. The same admonishing, ear-caressing voice of Heaven induced him to believe that although the broken pieces were difficult to glue in order to finally create the relationship in all its former glory, splendor, and beauty, there was still some place where their worn-out, errant souls could find shelter and where they could create new bonds and family nest in new glory and grandeur.

Rhett needed to explain to Scarlett why he had left her in London. Most importantly, he had to show the letter that _Vittorio Amedeo Alberto di Savoia, the Duke of Naples_, said she had written to Rhett on the deathbed. He needed to explain why he had had nearly married _Silvia Ferdinanda Albertson Dawson_. Rhett damned in his thoughts his apathy and weakness to resist his mother's pressure and fear of the scandal that presumably could damage Robert's chances for the access to proper society. Now this access to dignified society of Charleston was closed for both Rhett and his son Robert. He cursed himself for the moment when he left the red mansion on Pall Mall Street after the meeting with _Duke Vittorio Amedeo di Savoia_. He cursed himself that he left Scarlett who was somewhere between Heaven and sinful Earth in her lonesome battle with the death.

How could he have been such a naive, grief-stricken dupe to leave London and not to check the information that Vittorio gave him? Why didn't he go to Paris, right to _Père Lachaise Cemetery _to the family tomb of the Robillards? Why was he so weak? Why was he bathing in the ocean of bitter alcohol? The answer was that Rhett was simply a broken, beaten man at that time. Perhaps, he will bear the cross of outrageous guilt for his games and deaths of his children till his dying day.

Heaven made him wiser, and Rhett inferred that neither he nor Scarlett would live in the world of trumpery and cajolement as all the masks must be gone. He was sick of hypocrisy and self-masquerade both in his private and business life. Now he will show to Scarlett his true face and will become a loving husband and father for his children Blanche and Isabelle, he mused. At a fought of his dear daughtes, his heart melted into a puddle of liquid heat and warmth filled his body and his soul. Then his heartbeat became a rapid drumming as Rhett remembered that he wasn't sure that Scarlett wouldn't probably be happy to meet him again in Vienna. However, given that she instructed her lawyer to inform him about her whereabouts, Rhett assumed that she had wanted to see him, although she may not show her true feelings in reality.

_"Per aspera ad astra, Scarlett…" _escaped from Rhett's lips somewhere on the border between France and Switzerland as he thought about his past life in general and with Scarlett in particular. He was sure that they could revitalize their love and make it raising much above the hypocritical, temporary, perishing existence of human beings. Ironically, Rhett homologated their love for Scarlett with the Celtic cross, being a symbol combining a cross with a ring surrounding the intersection. As the circle on the Celtic cross symbolizes the unending mystery of how through Christ's crucifixion and resurrection there is undeniable hope of salvation to the faithful, Scarlett and Rhett still had hope for salvation of their love from the ashes to the bright stars in the sky, provided that they both change themselves and are ready to leave the world of masquerade, full of trumpery, flattery, and falsehood.

Rhett no longer would be nasty and mean to her, mocking and teasing her, firing her temper and enjoying the explosion, he mused. No more poisonous barbs and venom, hypocrisy and mysteries in their relationship. Rhett swore to himself that he would no longer run away and postpone the decision of their problems for tomorrow. He will go and get what is designated by fate for him. Rhett's love for Scarlett transformed from overprotective, secretive feeling to openly-declared, sincere feeling of warmth and care. It became connected with willingness to sacrifice, with readiness to wait for her love and not to press her with the onslaught of his thoughts and intentions. Rhett wanted to make her happy without having something in return, giving to her his love with burning, vehement passion. He wanted to have natural relationships and took an oath to rule out fraud, dissimilation, and all masks. Rhett's current physical and spiritual creature was composed of sweet feeling and strong bond to Scarlett and their children, and his soul was an alienable part of their mightily powerful, imperishable love with their own small paradise, where no more pain, sorrow, and evil would ever intrude. Love for Scarlett became a twiggy, spiritually-physical attribute of Rhett's conscience and sub-conscience, which he finally grasped in terms of undying, pure, unconditional and strong feeling to his soul mate.

Rhett's mind came back to reality when the train stopped at the Zurich central station. Rhett stepped off the platform and made his way to the Zurich Grand Hotel to spend the night there. In the morning Rhett woke up at the sunrise, very excited in the anticipation of his final trip in Vienna. However, his enthusiasm and elevated mood weakened as he learnt that there would be no train to Vienna in the next four days. He was told that some problems existed on the rail road in Austro-Hungary. Rhett was angry and made s scandal at the train station as he had to investigate other options of getting to Vienna in the shortest possible time. The staff of the train station suggested that Rhett could rent a carriage from Zurich to Innsbruck and later do the same to Vienna or take the train from Innsbruck.

Unfortunately, in three different service companies Rhett was refused to rent the carriage either from Zurich to Innsbruck or from Zurich to Vienna. Furious anger tackled Rhett as now he didn't know what to do. Luckily, the owner of the food store proposed to the good-looking, seemingly prosperous American gentleman to use his peasant wagon because he was travelling on exactly the same route from Zurich to Vienna with departure the same night. Rhett didn't like the idea of going in the wagon with goods and other shipments with no place to rest his exhausted bones. Nevertheless, having no alternatives, he accepted the offer and benevolently loaded his two suitcases with dandy suits to the wagon.

"Mister, I am sorry for not having comfortable conditions of transportation," the man barked in German. His gaze was hard and unpleasant.

Rhett held the man's gaze. "It doesn't matter. I will be fine. My full name is Rhett Butler. You can call me Rhett," he answered in German with visible English accent, inwardly laughing as he imagined how he would look by the end of the journey before the meeting with Scarlett.

"I know that fine gentlemen are not accustomed to poor conditions," the coachmen smirked and drew rein in the road, patting the neck of his white-livered old horse with approbation.

The man began yelling enthusiastically on the horse to push her move more swiftly. Looking at this undernourished, crucified animal, Rhett thought that it would perish right now and he wouldn't get to Vienna. He asked the man, again in German: "Are you sure that this horse will survive such a long trip?"

"Mr Butler, I am completely sure. I am not a rich gentleman like you, but I guarantee you that it won't die on the road. You pay me and you get what you want," he answered angrily and tossed the reins. The wagon moved clumsily, and the journey began.

"Alright, thank you. I hope the journey will be pleasant," Rhett snapped carelessly, looking at the man's arms gripping the old frayed reigns.

"It will be fine, but the roads are not smooth in Austro-Hungary. They weren't designed to please such fine gentlemen like you," the coachman answered and cast a look of unfriendliness and disaffection at Rhett.

Indeed, Rhett looked a king as compared to the owner of the food store. He was dressed in the elegant, well-tailored three-piece day suit of ivory color, which included the trousers, the waistcoat, and the jacket. The suit was accompanied by the silky pale blue shirt with the high collar. The fancy silk jacquard, pale blue ascot was perfectly tied under the collar, creating a full ascot look. As a form of a cravat, ascot descended from the Royal Ascot horse race, where men could wear a looser cravat as part of their morning dress. Ivory top hat, with a matching grosgrain ribbon, finished Rhett's dressing ensemble. Indeed, it was too pompous and elegant and expensive for travelling in the peasant wagon.

"Don't worry, sir. I will survive," Rhett sighed, irritated by the man's attitude and his terrible Austro-Hungarian accent.

"I hope that I don't have to make unnecessary stops for your rest, Mr Butler," the coachman growled.

"I will be fine," Rhett assured and glanced away to avoid the man's unpleasant gaze.

"If it is so, you will have to pay more for this leisure," the man added dryly and tossed the reins again.

"I will be fine," Rhett repeated and averted his eyes, blazing with anger.

"I hope, Mr Butler."

Rhett was happy that the man had relapsed into silence. Rhett could speak basic German, but his knowledge wasn't profound and he understood the man with a certain difficulty, especially given his typical Austrian-Hungarian accent. Besides, Rhett wasn't prone to listen to the man's ugly lamentations about gentlemen and hidden hints on Rhett's belonging to the upper-class society, which was hated by many peasants and petty bourgeoisie. He had other things on his mind – Scarlett and their children.

The night and the whole next day Rhett and the owner of the food store spent on the dusty bumpy roads between Zurich and Vienna. Rhett was amazed that the Emperor _Franz Joseph I_ hadn't yet improved the infrastructure system in Austria-Hungary. Rhett didn't sleep, and his elegant, fashionable suit was now dirty, dilapidated, and untidy. He looked like on the day when he left Scarlett near Rough and Ready after their escape from siege of Atlanta. Who could fantasize that devilishly handsome, arrogant, pompously dressed Rhett Butler could arrive in the city of music and charm in the ugly peasant wagon with goods and in addition smelling with typical attributes of peasant life - manure and hay.

* * *

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_The new chapter was uploaded. In the next chapter Scarlett and Rhett will meet._

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_Happy New Year!_


	59. Chapter 59

**Chapter 59**

**Unveiling of _Duke Vittorio Amedeo di Savoia's _intrigues**

Rhett Butler was laughing at himself when the wagon stopped in front of _the Hotel Imperial_, the most expensive and luxurious hotel in the city. He dismounted from the buggy, with difficulty and awkwardly, because his knees were stiff. He swiftly handed his two suitcases to the bug-eyed porter startled by the picture of a man in front of him. Having paid to the owner of the food shop the compensation for the travel arrangement, Rhett entered the lobby of the hotel.

As Rhett stepped into the street, the elegant black perch-phaeton with a calash top was passing by _the Hotel Imperial_, slowly moving far and far away. _Philippe Justin Robillard-Arden, 8th Duke of Aylesbury_, and _Julian St John Lessard, 13th Earl of Effingham_, were keeping silent, observing how the well-dressed, but unkempt man ordered to the coachman to unload his two suitcases from the peasant wagon and commanded the porter to take his things inside the hotel. As Rhett finally disappeared inside the building of the hotel, the phaeton was already out of sight and continued moving down the street.

"This was a funny scene," Lord Effingham said with a smile. "I cannot imagine such a pompous, rich man travelling in a peasant wagon!"

"Amusing episode," the Duke of Aylesbury admitted. He didn't smile, his eyes fixed on the road.

"I suppose it happened because Austro-Hungarian part of the railroad between Zurich and Vienna was closed for several days."

"Maybe," Aylesbury breathed. He pulled the reigns in order to speed up the horses. "You know that I hate meeting Americans, but today I had to look at this man. Now when I know all the truth, I wanted to see the man who betrayed Scarlett and hurt her so much."

"I beg my pardon, but I presume you knew him for a long time," Lord Effingham assumed.

"It is so, Julian," Aylesbury nodded. "I met young Rhett Butler only twice or thrice in Savannah and in Charleston, but it was more than thirty years ago. I haven't seen him since the day when I met him at one of brothels in London, somewhere in Chelsea. It happened around four-five years ago."

"It should have been a very remarkable place for the meeting, Philippe," the Earl of Effingham laughed out loudly. "I also met Rhett Butler several times at card parties and in the gambling houses in London in 1861-1866, during the time of the civil war in the South. I also met him on some balls in the high society several years ago."

"Rhett Butler traveled to London very often during the civil war. He was a blockade runner and made a great fortune on the speculations," Aylesbury said in a cold voice.

"Like you, Philippe," the Earl pronounced.

"Like you and me," the Duke of Aylesbury amended. "You also participated in the speculations by importing opium from India and selling it in China. Do I need to remind that we made a vast fortune in these deals? We stopped right before the end of _the Second Opium War_ _of 1856-1860_."

"In contrast to you, I have never been so talented in business, Philippe. I did what you advised. I have always admired you for what you achieved on these speculations in Asia. As for me, I am just a usual English landlord with some investments."

"Don't forget your diamond business, my friend." Aylesbury's black eyes continued to observe the horses and the road.

"Certainly."

"Julian, just don't be so modest." Aylesbury turned his head and looked at his friend, his eyes glowing with a mixture of fondness and friendship.

"Why are you so strained, Philippe?"

"I am worried," the Duke agreed, his face as dark as a thundercloud. "I don't want Scarlett to marry this man again. These relations brought only pain and tragedy in her life."

"I understand your position, but what can you do about it?"

"Most likely, nothing."

"Don't worry. Now we need to focus on the task to understand what the Duke of Naples wants from Scarlett and how he can be connected with the tragedy in Charleston."

"I agree," Aylesbury said.

"Do you have any new information from your people?"

"James asked me some more time for the agent who is now working in Charleston. He needs more time to gather the detailed information. You know that I have never had any missions in the States, so that I have to use intermediaries. Nobody of my agents has ever worked in the States."

"My agents never worked in the United States too, usually covering Denmark and Norway in Europe and the whole British Asia, as you did. As for me, I worked in Charleston only once, but I wasn't very successful on that occasion," Lord Effingham supplied in a dazed, quite anger at himself. "Well, the poison stolen by _Silvia Ferdinanda Albertson Dawson_. And such a coincidence that she was Rhett Butler's fiancée! I have thought a lot about this matter, and I still have no clue. How did Silvia do this? How did she learn that I had the poison?"

"I have no clue, Julian. I cannot find the connection so far. But if _Silvia Ferdinanda Albertson Dawson_ knew that you had had this poison, it means that there probably was a leakage of information from our agents or somebody else in the chain. Alternatively, Silvia Ferdinanda could be somehow related either to our agents or Italian agents. Another version is that his Grace _Vittorio Amedeo di Savoia_ is somehow related to Silvia and knows much more than we think at the first glance."

"There is a mystery here. It is a very complicated story with unpredictable roots and outcomes," the Earl of Effingham shook his head. "When are you leaving for Rome?"

"James said Vittorio is leaving from Vienna tomorrow in the morning. It means that I will do the same. He is not going straight to Rome, but at first to Milano to attend several balls," the Duke of Aylesbury commented. Then he lifted his eyes up and glanced apprehensively at the sun in the sky. "The weather is wonderful today."

"It is very warm and sunny."

"Therefore at first I will be leaving for Milano. I have to leave tomorrow because I don't want to have a random meeting with Rhett Butler here in Vienna," Aylesbury confessed.

"You will have to meet him again, sooner or later, either in London or in Paris."

"Yes."

"How do you think can he remember you from the distant past?"

"Although much time passed, I still could remember young Rhett Butler, but I am sure that he doesn't remember me. Besides, everybody in the high society of London knows that I am a close relative for the French Robillards. Officially I am half-Robillard by blood, so that some resemblance in appearance can be attributable to this fact."

"Dark attractiveness has always been the distinguishing feature of the Robillards," Lord Effingham commented, and a faint, preoccupied smile played about his lips.

"I am not afraid of meeting this man," Aylesbury averred with a touch of confidence. "I just don't want."

"I see."

"Fortunately, nobody can ever imagine what the truth is like, Julian."

"Nobody, Philippe… It would sound too unbelievable."

"Yes," the Duke of Aylesbury replied quietly, his face suddenly wiped clean of expression.

"Do you plan to disclose the truth one day?" Lord Effingham asked cautiously.

"I will never put the reputation of my children and the Robillards at risk. I cannot do this," Aylesbury replied as he made himself concentrate on the horses. He sighed heavily and continued: "If the truth is said, it should be kept within the walls of the room where it was revealed. Otherwise many new generations of the Robillards and the Ardens won't be received anywhere. We don't need dirty stories around our names."

Effingham glared at him. "I agree. Nothing of this dreadful story should ever come to the public."

Anger bubbled inside Aylesbury, rising through his body like a head of foam. "No doubt, Julian. I cannot crust the life of the Robillards in France, the Robillard-Ardens in England, and the Robillards in the United States." Ha paused and cleared his throat. "Everything is so complicated only because of damned Pierre Robillard."

"I understand," Effingham forced out a smile. "You don't need to reveal the truth. Anyway, advised by the Ministry for Foreign Affairs, _Queen Victoria_ issued the special, strictly confidential decree that you would never lose the title of the Duke of Aylesbury, including the circumstance of properly documented adoption, like in your case. The title will be transferred to your eldest son Jasper in accordance with the standard practice."

"In the Queen's decree, the case of adoption allows to hold and transfer the title only in one case – my particular case. It was done only for me and won't cover the transmission of the title for further generations," Aylesbury elucidated.

"You should diligently keep this secret decree."

"Assuredly."

"As far as I remember, you were the closest male heir for the title because of your true mother's blood connections with the Ardens," Effingham added.

Aylesbury turned his head to Effingham and tossed him a defiant look. "Julian, you remember everything." He laughed.

Effingham shrugged. "Yes, I am."

"Julian, you are right that even in the bloodline I was the closest legal heir of the title. Recall that in reality I was the closest male relative to the Ardens because my real mother Genevieve was a cousin to Georgette's mother. However, the Queen's decree is very helpful as it states the adoption case and lets us ignore the rule of the true bloodline, thus allowing me to avoid the revelation of my true identity in order to be able to claim the title."

"Philippe, it is great because it makes your inheritance of the title fair."

"Yes," Aylesbury nodded soberly.

"Truth to be said, the Queen's decree was issued because of your agreement to work for the Ministry for Foreign Affairs. It was the part of the deal in your marriage and getting a new name."

"Yes, it is so," Aylesbury muttered, his voice sounding passionless and steady. "The decree was issued thanks to the Ardens' connections with the British government. You know that _Richard Russell Arden_, my father by adoption and the younger brother of 7th Duke of Aylesbury, worked at the Foreign Office."

"Our missions prove that you deserved this decree to be issued. We achieved very much in the whole region of British Asia," Lord Effingham said quietly.

"Indeed."

"Moreover, you also have a permanent, hereditary seat at the House of Lords, Philippe."

Aylesbury grinned at him. "I am not really interested in becoming British parliamentarian, Julian."

"I know. For us it is enough to be involved in the government deals," Effingham supplemented.

"That is more than enough."

"Buddy, you shouldn't be worried. Nobody will open the truth without your permission and nobody will ever believe if somebody does. Most importantly, the Foreign Office is not interested in the large-scale scandal around the family of one of the best British agents."

"At least some sort of alleviation against a backdrop of the broken life," the Duke of Aylesbury answered flatly. A sad expression faded away from his handsome face, leaving his attractive features to show only the strain of worry, tiredness, and sleeplessness, which he had been enduring in the last weeks.

"You must rest well today. You are tired, Philippe."

"So are you, Julian."

Philippe and Julian didn't talk during the rest of the way. Lost in his thoughts, the Duke of Aylesbury missed that they had already approached the mansion in the Gothic style, its limestone exterior standing out among the exteriors of other mansions on _Herrengasse_ or "_Lords' Street,_" the main aristocratic district in Vienna. Aylesbury drove right past the footman who ran out of the house to take the reins. He continued down to the stables which were situated behind and off to the side of the mansion. Finally he stopped right in front of the stables, and they saw a footman running to them from the front door. The Duke of Aylesbury didn't speak and silently handed the reins to the servant, while Lord Effingham observed the subtle change in his friend's mood since they stopped.

As Rhett entered the lobby of the hotel, his mind was on Scarlett, and he paid scant attention to the phaeton and a pair of excellent horses, but these things still registered somewhere on the perimeter of his preoccupied mind, although he didn't see the faces of the coachman and the passengers. In the lobby Rhett asked the amused receptionist whether the hotel had the vacant suite with at least one bedroom, one dressing room, and a large living room. Rhett was lucky on this occasion as the hotel had exactly what he requested. Then he went upstairs, accompanied by the porter with his things.

Having checked in the room and after having a long bath to relax and clean up his way-worn body, Rhett got dressed and went downstairs, now being familiarly dressed in his elegant suit and smiling broadly to the receptionist. He asked the hotel manager whether Madame de Bréval was staying in the hotel, and, having received a positive answer and learning that she occupied the suite on the same floor, Rhett's lips were stirred with a serene smile. Rhett went upstairs to Scarlett's room number and knocked at the door. Leontine, the children's nurse and Scarlett's maid, opened the door to him.

"Good evening, Monsieur. How can I help you?" Leontine asked in pure French.

"Good evening, Mademoiselle. Please, tell Madame de Bréval that Rhett Butler is here to see her," Rhett answered politely, also in French, and bowed. He knew French very well.

"I am sorry, Monsieur Butler, but Madame de Bréval is not here now."

"The deal is very urgent. Would you mind telling me where I can find her?" Rhett inquired insistently.

"Madame de Bréval is downstairs in the hotel restaurant," Leontine said explosively and immediately clapped her hands in frustration as she was afraid of betraying her mistress. Her face went crimson in embarrassment and reluctant boldness.

"Thank you, Mademoiselle. Goodnight." Rhett bowed for the second time, ready to leave.

"Goodnight, sir," Leontine said, averted her eyes from Rhett, and closed the door.

Rhett went downstairs and approached the barely illuminated hotel restaurant. He asked the waiter where he could find Scarlett and received an unpleasant answer that Madame de Bréval was having a dinner with his Grace _Vittorio Amedeo di Savoia, the Duke of Naples,_ in the private area of the restaurant. Notwithstanding the waiter's protests, Rhett rushed in the direction of the exclusively private area of the restaurant where there were no people, except for Vittorio and Scarlett in that evening. He slowed down his footsteps as he heard familiar melodic voice of his former wife.

"Scarlett, you look so beautiful today!" The Duke of Naples exclaimed. His middle brown eyes were taking in her appearance.

Although she was very pale and very lean in the aftermath of the poisoning, Scarlett was still attractive. She was wearing the French evening gown with the high neckline and the front trimmed with some large oval pearls. It was an elegant and modest gown. The sleeves of the gown reached to the elbow, where they were trimmed with one deep fall of Venetian lace - a most becoming finish. In the area lower than the elbow, the sleeves were trimmed with silver beads, the wristbands being embroidered with a tiny strap of silver Venetian lace. Scarlett's hands were gloved in the whist-length silver silky gloves. Her hair was arranged in style of _the Second French Empire_ – her tresses were made up in the form of the Imperial diadem.

"Vittorio, I cannot be beautiful now. I am still sick," Scarlett remarked. "Don't be absurd."

"You are beautiful any time for me."

"Thank you for the compliment," she said softly. She smiled like a child offered sweetmeats. She was natural at that moment. "Vittorio, I want to thank you very much for this magnificent evening. The opera was amazing!"

The Duke of Naples smiled. "Darling, I am happy that you liked the opera."

"Is _Fidelio _the only opera by Beethoven?" Scarlett asked curiously.

"You are right because this is Beethoven's only opera. Beethoven's best known compositions are symphonies, concertos for piano, piano sonatas, and string quartets, but not operas," Vittorio said in a honeyed voice and put right hand on Scarlett's cheek.

"Vittorio, what are you doing?" She took his hand away from her face and stared at him in amusement.

"You know I will do everything for you, my darling Scarlett."

"Vittorio… What do you mean?"

"I have wanted you since the moment I saw you on the ball in Naples. I have wanted you more than I have ever wanted any other woman, Scarlett. I have been waiting for you for so long. I have never desired somebody else more than I desire you, my dear. There is no woman in the world like you. I like you for your beauty, stubbornness, greediness, and hatred to the rules of the proper society. I have never met a woman like you. Perhaps, I would also like Annabelle, but your gravitation for me is stronger." He paused, ready to express his thoughts in his favorite Italian. "_Ma chère belle Scarlett, je vous aime comme une femme. Ne vous inquiétez pas - je s'il vous plaît vous suffit pour être heureux_," he declared in Italian.

"What does the last sentence mean? I don't know Italian."

"_My dear beautiful Scarlett, I like you as a woman. Don't worry - I will please you enough to be happy_," Vittorio translated.

"What a surprise to hear this from you and today! Are you asking me to marry you?" She wished she might think of it not to be an indecent proposal. She still had some vague hope.

Vittorio's eyes fixed on her bosom. He was disappointed that the neckline of her gown was so high. As he raised his eyes to her face, his lips curved in a sweet smile. "How do you think?"

"I am not sure that you can marry a woman not from the royal family. Therefore, I can assume that there is certain disgusting undertone in your proposal."

"Don't pretend that it comes as an utter surprise to you, Scarlett. You should have guessed my true feelings for you a long time ago," the Duke of Naples said. He was breathing heavily, his eyes darkened with swelling, wild passion.

"Vittorio, what are you up to?" She was irritated with him.

"I like you because you are so practical and so rational, my dear. Would you become my inamorata?" Vittorio said with a hand on his heart. He rose to his feet, leaned across the table, and tried to kiss her, but Scarlett pushed him away from her roughly.

"Are you proposing me to become your mistress?" She glanced at him with her emerald orbs, blazing in fierce anger and indignation. She didn't expect such scandalous behavior from Vittorio.

"Yes, I am." Vittorio smiled, his eyes dancing with imps.

"Your Grace, please answer to my question," Scarlett began in an official tone, her eyes veiled. "Did I give you any trigger to disrespect me so much?"

"My dear, I see that you are ideally suitable for this role," he countered with evil grin on his brazen face. "_Mia cara, ti piacerà essere il mio amante_," he said in his native Italian. "_My dear, you will like to be my mistress_," he translated in English.

"I hope I will never see you again! Get out! Get out of here!" Scarlett screamed again and again. She thought that she should have screamed even louder than she did. No, she won't faint in her shock. Instead, she will attack and insult him, will turn away from him with a proudly raised head, and will leave. Scarlett's nails dug deeply into her palms even through her black six-button gloves as she clenched her fists in rising rage.

"Scarlett, you are a wildcat, but even a wildcat can be appeased," Vittorio answered. He laughed uproariously and resumed talking. "Calm down, my darling. Brace your energy. You are a spirited creature, but I worship such qualities in women."

"I am not your whore, you brute!" She parried, scandalized and humiliated. The rules of etiquette were now forgotten.

"I want to accompany you in your unblessed solitude. You are so beautiful, Scarlett."

"I said no, your Grace," she replied, trying to keep at least some formality. She rose to her feet, her eyes snapping angrily. "Go to hell and see if I care!"

"I will be damned, but in rage you look even more beautiful, my dear," Vittorio laughed again.

"Leave your indecent proposals for your Italian hetaeras!" she said tensely, her green eyes slits of rage.

"Scarlett, think more, sweetheart."

A blush spread upward from her neck, glowing across her cheeks. "Of course, I have nothing more to think about," she said sharply.

Vittorio let an ugly triumphal laugh and looked at her with his black, arrogantly mocking eyes. He seemed to be so sure that he would get what he wanted. And he wanted her. "I have everything you can wish – money, palaces, gold. I know your greedy nature, and I propose what you want, my dear. I can look through you."

"I don't ever want to speak to you again, your Grace," she snapped in a furious undertone. She turned around, ready to leave.

"Sit down, my dear wild beauty. Think more," the Duke of Naples repeated.

She shook her head. "I have nothing to think about," she retorted.

Vittorio laughed again. "Please, don't address to me as your Grace. I am your friend."

"Your Grace, did you hear that she had refused your proposal?" Rhett asked. He had observed the sudden sharp quarrel that sprang up between Scarlett and the Duke of Naples for quite a long time before he entered the room at twilight as Vittorio requested in his craving to charm Scarlett.

"Rhett…" Scarlett breathed as she looked at his eternally confident and handsome face with a bold, arrogantly sardonic smile.

"Good evening, Scarlett and your Grace _Duke_ _Vittorio Amedeo di Savoia_. I hope you are having good time," Rhett bowed elegantly to both of them, very low and in the same mocking manner. "I am sorry for intruding. I hope I don't have to introduce myself, your Grace."

"Good evening, Monsieur Butler. I remember you," the Duke said.

"Nice to hear this," Rhett smiled ironically.

"I am sorry for my straightforwardness, but you weren't invited to attend this dinner," Vittorio pronounced firmly, looking at Rhett angrily. "You must leave right now, sir."

"You told me the same when I saw you in London at Marguerite de Robillard's mansion. Do you remember or should I remind you?" Rhett declared politely, his dark eyes burning with irritation and disgust.

"Monsieur Butler, I politely ask you to leave before I order my people to force you to go out," the Duke of Naples continued harshly.

"His Grace _Duke Vittorio Amedeo di Savoia_ doesn't remember what he told me and what he gave me?" Rhett jeered and then softened his voice. "Scarlett, my dear, don't worry, he won't disturb you again."

"Rhett, what do you mean? Can you please clarify?" Scarlett requested loudly. She looked very surprised, and Rhett noticed this.

"Yes, I can," Rhett confirmed. He approached her, extracted a folded sheet of paper from his pocket, and handed it to Scarlett.

"What is this, Rhett?" Scarlett asked, her face bleached additionally in surprise, and her eyes fell in sudden confusion.

Rhett noticed how pale and slim Scarlett looked. No, she wasn't so slim and pale when he met her at the art event in London. His heart cringed and sank at her morbid appearance as he was an indirect reason of it on the back of the mess with Silvia he had created in his foolish attempt to become a proper gentleman and cement his life forever in boring Charleston.

"Have a look, Scarlett. Read it very carefully. Answer, please, is it yours?" Rhett inquired seriously.

"Sir, you should leave this area. I can forget my gentlemanlike manners," Vittorio threatened again as he saw the sheet of paper Rhett handed to Scarlett.

"What is this? I don't know who wrote this. I didn't write it, Rhett," Scarlett shrugged in puzzlement, and more confusion came across her pale face.

"You don't know, do you?" Rhett pointed out.

"No, I don't. Is it somebody's jeering humor, Rhett? The signature is very similar to mine, but I didn't sign this strange letter," she replied.

"Scarlett, this letter was granted to me by your dear good friend, his Grace the Duke of Naples, when I came to Marguerite de Robillard's house in London in attempt to understand what happened with you. He said that your maid wrote this letter for you because you were very weak to write it by yourself," Rhett clarified and smiled sincerely. He saw that she was breathless, hit by complete surprise at his last words. "I suppose that his Grace Vittorio wanted to drive you away from me and forged the letter. Was it so, your Grace?"

"Please, sir, pay the due suspect to me and Scarlett," Vittorio attacked.

"Your Grace… Vittorio… is it truth? Did Rhett come to Marguerite's house? What is it? I don't understand…" Scarlett's face became more ghostly white from pain and confusion and her jaw clenched. Rhett saw that her hand with the letter was trembling slightly.

"I saw this man when he came to Marguerite's mansion in London. I told him what Scotland Yard agreed to say to everybody in order to identify the poisoner more quickly," Vittorio explained firmly and continued his game. "Apart from this, I did nothing what this gentleman ascribes to me."

"Your are lying, your Grace. I could have this goddamned letter nowhere when from your flagitious hands," Rhett objected in deceptively smooth voice that covered sarcasm. "I suppose your aspirations to make Scarlett your mistress and her prior rejects of your attention and potential proposals, coupled with your knowledge of my… erm… relationship with Scarlett, pushed you to this terribly illicit intrigue."

As Scarlett read the note and as the Duke of Naples lied knavishly, for a moment her mind refused to accept the truth, but when realization finally came to her, the hottest anger went through all her limbs, anger at Vittorio and at the cruel fate, anger at Rhett and at herself for trusting Vittorio. How could she ever trust Vittorio? How could she even not suspect his devilish nature? She hated and despised him with her whole heart. She wanted to claw hold of him as she wished to see the blood upon his smug face, face of betrayer. She wanted to punch him in his face as hard as she could. She wanted to take all breath from him as only it would ease the pain in her heart.

"Your Grace the Duke of Naples, how could you do this to me? You not only treated me with indignity by proposing me to become your whore, but also harmed my happiness and disgraced our friendship by forging the letter," Scarlett gave another yell as anger aroused in her body and flooded her face. However, she still controlled her anger somehow, and her voice didn't even tremble.

"Scarlett, please calm down," Vittorio said with a dry smile.

Scarlett's breath sang out in a sigh. "How dare you do this? How dare you to betray my friendship?" she hissed. There was such a note of wild determination and hatred in her voice as she spelled out her last words that Vittorio even stepped back. Short but heavy silence fell between them.

"Scarlett, this is a mistake! I don't know what this gentleman is talking about! Please, calm down, my dear. I won't hurt you. I love you so much," Vittorio said softly, his face smoothened. Then he approached Scarlett, but she quickly leaped aside from him and stared at him furiously.

"How dare you intrude in the things that are out of your business? How dare you…" Scarlett's eyes were burning with hatred.

As Vittorio continued to lie, venom was asphyxiating her and she swallowed hard again and again. Venom and bitterness were dissolving in her bloodstream, and she was on the verge of her weak self-control left. She couldn't suppress her anger any longer, although still her face was more or less calm in its wanness. She put off the glove from her right hand and dropped it on the floor. Then Scarlett quickly approached him and slapped him twice across his face so hard that Vittorio lost his balance and staggered. As he lowered his head crushed by her slap, she suddenly got craws into his right cheek and screamed in a fury. Her nails scratched his cheek so deeply that a spot of blood appeared and was rapidly rising in its size. She spangled back from him and froze several steps apart from him and Rhett. She was afraid of what she had done because at that moment she didn't control herself in the light of pure rage and her short temper was seething in uncontrollable vehemence.

Haven't anticipated such a strong physical expression of her anger, Rhett stepped forward in an instance and embraced her about her shoulders protectively. He was ready to assault at Vittorio if he had imagined ever reacting to her actions physically. Rhett could kill him with his bare hands for Scarlett.

"How could you do this? Do you understand what you did? You are a lowdown skunk… You are a hybrid of a man and a beast. You are a miserable animal! You will be damned!" she screamed again and again. She didn't care what he thought. "You will be damned!"

"Scarlett… Madame de Bréval… What are you doing is completely unacceptable. I didn't think that you have such unladylike manners. You are a hysterical woman," the Duke of Naples declared, switching to formal manner of addressing. He was stroking his red cheek. He took his handkerchief from his pocket and affixed it on the wound to stop bleeding. He felt humiliated to the roots of his dark hair and fingernails.

"You deserved this," Rhett said roughly, his hand around her shoulders. Now he felt her body shivering from rage and shock.

"Madame de Bréval, you not only refuse my proposal, but also humiliate me publicly," Vittorio said. He shook his head. "I have never thought that you, Madame de Bréval, are such an ill-bred woman."

"You have humiliated yourself. She didn't do it. If you want a woman, then go and get her in the honest competition if there are any competitors," Rhett laughed low in his throat and approached Scarlett. He took her hand in his, squeezing it gently. "Your Grace, maybe, you are so unconvinced in your own male charms that you cannot attract a lady otherwise, not by weaving a cobweb of lies and intrigues?"

"Monsieur Butler, you have no right to judge me. What you are telling her is a thundering lie," the Duke of Naples straightened his body and looked with challenge at Rhett and Scarlett.

"Your Grace, I don't think that he is lying as Rhett has no reason to do it, while you have," Scarlett's firm and confident voice resonated loudly. The peak of anger has already got though her, but Rhett knew too well that she was still far from the actual emotional splash of her rampage. In the aftermath of her current general emotional fragility, he could easily predict tears and sobbing once they are left alone. She continued, her voice sounded far away from where she was, but still firm and even arrogant: "Rhett is right as you are so unconvinced in your charms that you use such ill-gotten methods to entice a woman. I had a much higher opinion of you, your Grace _Duke_ _Vittorio Amedeo di Savoia_. Honestly, I didn't suspect that you can do such horrible things. I trusted you and treated you as a friend, your Grace."

The Duke of Naples was going to defend himself again. "Madame de Bréval, it is a lie! Don't let this man twist you so roughly and unashamedly around his finger."

"Honestly, I have never seen more stupid man than you are, your Grace," Rhett teased, continuing to embrace Scarlett as she didn't resist him. "When the truth is so evident, you are trying to defend yourself in such an unsophisticated way. Probably, the charms of Naples didn't give you an ability of cooler reasoning, did they?"

Vittorio raised his chin and smiled with malice. His medium brown eyes showed that he considered himself to be superior to everybody else in that room. "Monsieur Butler, how dare you humiliate me so much? I am the Duke of Naples," he said slowly, his voice deepening. "I am the brother of his Majesty _Vittorio Emanuele II,__ the King of Italy_." Indeed, he was an Italian aristocrat of royal blood.

Rhett's bottom lip twisted sardonically. "Your Grace, I don't care for your status. You are just a crafty Italian aristocrat for me."

"Francesco, Ernesto, get this impudent man away from here and from my eyes. Throw ," Vittorio roared loudly, calling his escorting people.

"Your Grace, your relation to the esteemed King of Italy is out of scope of this conversation. Besides, we are not in Italy - we are in Austro-Hungary," Scarlett pronounced in a steady voice, arrogantly and nonchalantly.

Two tall Italian men appeared from the adjacent room and approached the Duke of Naples. They bowed to him, ceremoniously and very low, even excessively low, Rhett mused.

Francesco and Ernesto stared at the Duke of Naples. "Your Grace," they said in unison and again bowed.

"Francesco, Ernesto, please throw this man out of the restaurant. He dared to humiliate the brother of his Majesty _King_ _Vittorio Emanuele II, our Padre della Patria (Father of the Fatherland)," __Vittorio cried out in high voice. His face revealed anger and outrage, his middle brown eyes flashed in danger._

_Without any further questions, Francesco and Ernesto stepped forward to Rhett in order to make him leave the room. Rhett didn't step backward and only smiled in response as he felt as though he had been having a priceless spectacular at the theatre. However, that situation also angered him at the senseless, empty waste of his time._

_Rhett raised his hands up. "Francesco and Ernesto, I see that you are very loyal people to his Grace the Duke of Naples, but t_here is no need to throw us away from here," he said.

Francesco and Ernesto didn't stop and gripped Rhett about his forearms. Rhett made a swift movement and released himself, stepping forward. Then he laughed aloud.

Vittorio clenched his fists. "Francesco, Ernesto, make him leave the room," he commanded in an authoritative voice.

Rhett laughed shortly. "Calm down, your Grace. We are leaving, aren't we, Scarlett? He looked at Scarlett and smiled at her confusion. She was still startled.

Rhett's well-modulated voice returned Scarlett to reality from her numbness. "Of course, we are leaving, Rhett." Then she glared at Vittorio's people. "Francesco and Ernesto, please leave this gentleman free. We are indeed leaving."

Francesco and Ernesto looked up questioningly at the Duke of Naples who waved them to submit to Scarlett's words. They stepped closer to their master.

With adrenalin pumping, spurring her forward, Scarlett decided to say her last words to Vittorio. She stared at him, arrogance and glory in her pale green eyes. "When you are a skunk, you learn how to hold your breath for a long time, which is what you, your Grace, did very well by masking your true appearance in front of both Annabelle and me," she said firmly. "Your Grace the Duke of Naples, I am kindly asking you to never bother me again."

"Madame, I am sorry, but you have no right to talk to the Duke of royal blood in such a harsh tone," Francesco noted. Ernesto nodded in agreement with Francesco.

Scarlett only laughed. "Dear Francesco and Ernesto, I have every right to talk to him after what your master has done to me. Not all aristocrats are honorable."

"Madame, you have no right…" Ernesto said, but didn't finish.

Scarlett interrupted him. "I am sorry, my dear gentlemen, but I don't care what you are saying."

Rhett was observing Scarlett, admiring her courage as she countered the Duke of Naples again.

The Duke of Naples was just watching Scarlett with the same intensive gaze, alert and scrupulously studying her. Then he narrowed his eyes to slits. "Madame de Bréval, I haven't imagined that you are so wild. Francesco and Ernesto correct that you are risking many things now as next time you might not be accepted anywhere in Italy, especially in its Southern part," he warned.

Scarlett smiled. "Your Grace, I don't have more time to talk to you. I am sorry. I wish you to have a pleasant evening."

Rhett smiled scornfully, pushing Scarlett ahead slightly and following her. "Goodbye, your Grace. Have a nice evening and a pleasant trip back to charming Naples," he said at a doorway.

"Madame de Bréval and Monsieur Butler, you will pay off entirely for my humiliation. We will settle our accounts. You won't get away with this humiliation," Vittorio threatened, his medium brown eyes blazing with danger and hatred. "I swear."

"Your Grace the Duke of Naples," Scarlett called him. "Your constant boast about your nobility doesn't attract me – it irritates me. By the way, I know that you are the Borgia's descendant. So that you can try to take revenge your revenge on me by poisoning me."

"If you ever touch her either physically or hurt her mentally, I will break your neck," Rhett said coldly, his face hardened and his left hand clenched in firm fist. "You must remember this, your Grace."

"Don't threaten me. I am not afraid of you," Vittorio roared, his face flushing in anger.

"If you ever disturb Scarlett again, I will break your neck and I won't feel sorry," Rhett reiterated calmly.

As Rhett had said that, Scarlett and Rhett left the private zone of the restaurant, heading upstairs. Absent-minded and bewildered, Scarlett was going on the second floor of the hotel, accompanied by her former husband. More accurately speaking, she was following him. Deeply touched by Vittorio's betrayal and shock from what she had just learnt, she didn't think that she was going to her room number with Rhett. Her face wasn't red with shame, but rather very pale from sickness and utmost emotional shock. The look on her face made Rhett smiled softly at her as now he saw the old Scarlett without the mask of polite indifference and nonchalance. He was frightened that she would become more aloof and estranged from him, but somehow it hasn't happened yet and he desperately hoped that she wouldn't wear this impenetrable mask in the near future.

Rhett looked at Scarlett. In the aftermath of the terrible clash with Vittorio, he could see the little changes time had wrought in her face: the tiny lines about the corners of her eyes, the new tautness of her skin against the elegant bones of her face. In addition, she was extremely thin as the poisoning harmed her beauty and she needed time to recover. As there was no mask of polite indifference on her now, Scarlett looked like a tired, yet frightened woman. Rhett cursed in his mind. The only thing he wanted to do was to scoop Scarlett into his arms and press her to his heart, to take away all her heartache and sadness. However, he knew he had to be cautions with her now. He looked at her and his heart swelled with love as her black lashes drooped downward for an instance and then flung open again. He loved her and now when he saw her again he was eternally sure that this love for her had never died.

* * *

_Now Duke Vittorio Amedeo di Savoia's intrigues have been revealed. But are you sure that it is the end of the intrigues in this long story that began to exhibit some resemblance to a historical novel?_

_I hope you liked this chapter, especially the moment when Scarlett showed her teeth to Vittorio._

_Here we see the old Scarlett with her temper. Here we see the old natural Scarlett. Her mask was a consequence of the tremendous pain she had to endure in the aftermath of those tragedies, including Bonnie and Melanie's deaths and later Rhett's divorce._

_Reviews are appreciated. Thank you very much in advance._

_I would be happy if you find time to tell me how you liked the quarrel between Scarlett, Rhett, and Vittorio._


	60. Chapter 60

**Chapter 60**

**Candidness: Scarlett and Rhett's heart-to-heart chat**

Scarlett followed Rhett as he stepped forward in the corridor and then to the massive marble staircase in the lobby. Silently, they climbed to the second floor and turned right. Rhett witnessed that his former wife had been trying to suppress anger and rampage since the time they left the restaurant downstairs.

"Scarlett, we need to talk, don't we?"

"Is it not like a death bell sounding? Everything, what happened?" Scarlett's carefully controlled voice said in a low, far away tone. She looked a ghost of a ghost at that moment.

"Scarlett, do you hear me? Where can we talk now?" Rhett repeated his question calmly.

"Now?" Her word ripped across the room.

"Right now."

"At least not in my room number because everybody is sleeping now." Scarlett's green eyes spit fire at his insistence, but her voice was steady enough.

"My suite is on the same floor. We can go there if you don't mind."

"Fine, Rhett. Show the way," she pronounced slowly, still being startled after their recent encounter with his Grace the Duke of Naples.

Scarlett stopped near the door of her suite. Staring intensively at him, she continued keeping silent, her eyes flickering slightly in the dim light of the corridor. Fatigue and apathy flooded her face until her eyes were blank and she looked as if through Rhett, but not seeing him. Rhett's heart failed a beat when he thought again how close he had come to losing her.

"Don't stand there like a stuffed dummy! Let's go inside," she raised her voice, annoyed with herself that she showed to him her trepidation. Sobs started to rise in her throat, all in accordance with Rhett's anticipation.

"You were very harsh with his Grace the Duke of Naples. I hope he will leave Vienna tomorrow, but you should be careful, my dear. Your tongue is very sharp." Rhett intuitively felt that it wasn't their last meeting with his Grace _Vittorio Amedeo di Savoia_. Moreover, he knew perfectly well that humiliated Italian aristocrat, all the more from the Southern Italy with more passionate, lazy and easily-wounded nature as compared to the majority of Northern Italians, English, and French aristocrats, was a powerful silent enemy. He knew that Vittorio's revenge was likely to have a form of a time-lag action.

"I don't care. Please, let's go inside."

"Keep cool, Scarlett. Step by step. Don't hurry up."

Rhett opened the door with the key and politely let her pass forward. They entered the room number, and Rhett lighted the lamp. The dim light flooded the vacuum of the suite. Rhett made a sign to her to settle on the blue sofa in the corner of the room, but she ignored him. Instead, she continued to stay near the door, her eyes frantically wandering across the living room of the large suite. Rhett was doing nothing, apparently observing Scarlett. Finally, he began moving and went inside the room. He took the candelabrum at the table near the front door and lit the candles. Then he did the same with the second candelabrum on the same table.

A wave of light flooded the room. Scarlett realized that they were inside the living room of the suite. Her eyes swept over the room in its dim light from the candles. The room was decorated in the Renaissance style. The color scheme was light: soft pinks and greens, gold, and white. The furniture was made out of oak and was decorated in rich style, with many inlays of white, gold and marble, while some pieces decorated with marquetry. Several Renaissance landscape paintings adorned the walls and small circular scenes of mythical beings, framed in swirling gilt, appeared on the ceilings. Two armchairs and the sofa were standing within an alcove, closer to the window. Curtained, arched doorways on either side of the room led to another room, clearly to the bedroom and then to the dressing room.

As they were standing near the door in silence, it seemed that nobody was ready to speak. It was difficult to speak after such a long and tragic separation, and they both felt ever-rising, stronger tension as longer and longer pause pressed over them. She was angry at Rhett, in doubts and in irritation, venom still boiling her blood. Rhett was observing her true frame of mind and understood her inward state of mind. He was watching and waiting.

"I don't care for the Duke of Naples," Scarlett broke the silence. Her eyes flew to meet his, and they seemed more startling than ever in their frame of long black lashes. "He can try to poison me as many times as he wants because soon I will be immune to the Medici and Borgia's poisons. It will happen in several months."

"Are you taking the Medici's cooper sulphate and the Borgia's _Cantarella_?"

Scarlett raised her eyebrows. "Yes, I do. How do you know the names of the poisons, Rhett?"

"Annabelle gave some patterns of poison to me to accept as a preventive measure."

She blinked and fixed him with her sharp green eyes. "I see."

"I suppose you received them too from the doctor in London."

"Correct. The doctor gave these poisons to me. Continue taking them, Rhett," Scarlett smiled.

"I will do it," he agreed. "I also have one more for you – aconite which Annabelle gave to me in London."

"Good. Don't forget to give the flacon with aconite to me later."

"Of course," he said.

"It is my third official proposal to become somebody's mistress," Scarlett suddenly said, and the notes of anger appeared in her voice. She laughed in a relaxed manner. "Many admirers and worshipers tried to court me officially. Others just flirted, said compliments and sent gifts, paying very decent addresses to me."

"The third proposal?" Rhett inquired, his tone was genuinely puzzled.

Her rosy lips smiled bleakly, showing a flash of her small white teeth. "Yes. Others behaved more decently."

"What the devil are you talking about?" He asked, raising his eyebrows a trifle.

"Once I received the proposal of the same kind from his Grace _Ian Colin Murray, 9th Duke of Lauderdale_, who is the infamous Scottish aristocrat in the ton of Great Britain."

"How do you know him?" His voice was steady, but the tautness of his mouth betrayed his anger.

Scarlett's mouth set in ironic lines as she guessed his jealousy. "I met Lauderdale at the Prince of Wales's birthday party at the Windsor Castle in London several years ago."

Scarlett didn't add that the Duke of Lauderdale quickly turned his attention to another lady when the Duke of Aylesbury, who was his friend, accurately advised Lauderdale not to waste time on Scarlett. Lauderdale even apologized for his proposal, which was quite unusual for this cynical, arrogant, extravagant aristocrat. Scarlett concluded that Lauderdale had acted so only because of her friendship with the Duke of Aylesbury. Aylesbury had always saved Scarlett from annoying admirers and worshipers when he was close to her.

"Very well," Rhett replied, his face looking as though it was carved out of marble. "Now you are easily accepted even in the royal residence. How did you accomplish this, Scarlett?"

"Three years ago I was accepted in the high society of London thanks to _Marguerite Marie Gabrielle de Robillard de Bréveaux, Duchess de Ventadour_, my late husband _Marquis Mathieu de Bréval_, and the Duke of Aylesbury who is the great friend and relative of the Robillards. The Duke of Lauderdale and I were introduced to each other by the Duke of Aylesbury, who is also my close friend."

"Aylesbury is your close friend? As far as I have heard, he is a notorious rake!"

"Rhett, Aylesbury is probably a womanizer, but he is my friend and a very good man. Besides, Aylesbury is not as notorious as many other aristocrats – he is an honorable man. Please don't talk about him in such a disgusting manner. I don't like this and I won't tolerate this."

"Fine. I am sorry."

"Moreover, please don't forget that you also are a notorious rake and a scoundrel," she remarked.

"Now I am talking about Aylesbury and Lauderdale. They are well-known _les sauvages nobles_." A hint of anger was in Rhett's voice. The fierce, strong anger burned in his veins, but he tried to hide it. They were still standing near the door. His mouth set in a grim determination, and he added: "I hope the Duke of Kent is not your close friend."

"I see that you know some representatives of the so-called community of _les sauvages nobles _of London, but Aylesbury is not the most dangerous one. Lauderdale is more notorious than Aylesbury. Even Kent isn't the most notorious," Scarlett grinned. Her voice was as serene and melodious as ever. "Besides, even if I am a friend or a mistress of the Prince of Wales, the President of France, or the Emperor of Austro-Hungary, it is out of your business."

"Which indecent proposal was more charming to you, my dear?" Rhett forced himself to laugh, smoothing the tension.

"It was very ungallant of you when you proposed to be your mistress in that Yankee prison. You were a varmint," she commented without raising voice, distantly and slightly aloofly, but her emotions were still evident to him.

"Indeed, I was and I am a varmint, but you liked me even in the war time because I was one of very few inveterate varmints you had known in your early youth and childhood," Rhett chuckled.

"It is truth that gentlemen don't attract me. Over years I have come to realize it." Her voice was distant and a little shaking. Rhett assumed that she could break in tears soon as her mask of control was slipping away. Too much load was on her tiny shoulders, and he knew it.

"There! You admitted this truth in the end, my dear. I knew it in the beginning," he teased her, trying to elevate her mood. "True ladies have never had any appeal to me."

"You are detestable," she promulgated, terrible sadness steeling into her voice. Rhett noticed it and sighed heavily. Unmasked Scarlett was too easy to read for him.

"It is nice that I see the old Scarlett without the mask."

Her eyes stung and she blinked hard. "Maybe," she said in a shaking voice. "Vittorio… It will take much time to forget his betrayal. I considered him to be my friend."

Scarlett turned around and approached the table in the corner of the living room. She suddenly took the multicolored cut-glass vase and threw it on the floor. Then she took the smaller vase and threw it in the huge mirror shattering it into many small pieces. Her frantic eyes continued to wander across the room, searching for other objects to break her rage. Observing that she was getting really hysterical in her deeply psychological tantrum, Rhett reached her in an instance and picked her up in his hands in an attempt to comfort her. She was on the verge of tears. He settled down in the nearby sofa, cradling her small body against his.

Rhett closed his arms around Scarlett and held her tight to his chest. She snuggled closer to him, offering him some more view of her bosom, which wasn't very visible due to her high neckline. At that moment she was passionately sobbing on his warm shoulder - sobbing from all the accumulated pain and aching, broken heart, sobbing with the despair of an offended child who doesn't know that sobbing can no longer help her. Rhett was holding her close, and his kind murmuring to her ears somehow began to sooth her. He didn't move and leaned down to her, very close, while she burrowed her head in his chest and cried out until there were no tears and only quite bawls remained. This was very similar to the moment when Scarlett woke up in the middle of the night after the terrible nightmare during their honeymoon to New Orleans when in her dreams she was running in the fog, hungry and terrified, and her husband tried to appease her like a small child.

"Rhett, how did you find me?" Scarlett asked in a weak voice, her head still buried in his chest. He took her tiny hand and kissed her palm tenderly. She felt that her skin on the back of her neck crawled slightly.

"I was at your lawyer's office in Paris, and Monsieur Blanick kindly mentioned your whereabouts, in accordance with your instructions." Rhett was stroking her ebony hair, his eyes glittering slightly in happiness and warmth filling his heart.

Scarlett felt the tears prick her eyelids, and there was something sticking in her throat. It was so difficult to breathe now, and it was so not only because of her general distress. He was so close to her now, and he was so tender and so caring. It took away all her breath for a second, but then she reminded herself that she couldn't fantasize about something more than a simple question now. A dreadful thought that they wouldn't be able to talk in a civilized manner had crossed her mind, but she did her best to pull it away. She knew that had to talk. They had to talk a long time ago. However, neither she nor had seemed to be able to talk earlier. Now when Rhett came to Vienna it seemed to her so fantastically improbable that she was very to weep and weep and weep.

Scarlett tried to breathe and found it impossible. She swallowed hard and began to move her hands until they came into contact with the buttons on Rhett's jacket. Rhett gathered her hands in his and drew her against him. Then he kissed her forehead and began to gently stroke her hair.

"Hush up, darling," he warned in a caressing murmur. "Hush up, my brave girl."

Scarlett opened her mouth and drew in a ragged breath. She wanted to say something, but Rhett put a finger to her lips. Then he gently kissed her temples. He noticed that her beautiful face had turned whiter, and he flinched. Her green eyes closed against the tears that burnt her eyelids. A lump raised in her throat, almost choking her. She swallowed hard over and over again. Then Scarlett's hand went to her throat as she tried to ease the unbearable ache and the smothering sobs, which threatened to suffocate her.

Rhett continued cradling her. "Hush, my darling," he murmured again. "You will be fine. Nothing will happen with you."

Rhett's kisses and endearments weren't passionate at that moment. All he wanted was to give a feeling of comfort and security to her. He wanted to see that her true feelings would unfold and that she would begin to enjoy her freedom together with him. He didn't want her to put on the old mask of chilly polite indifference and French courtesy. He was happy that now he was able to recognize her real state of mind and every detail of her emotions. Rhett even felt as though his arrival had released Scarlett from the prison of polite indifference. He wanted her to look around without any fear. He wished her to touch rich textures of the world and to perceive different vibrant colors of the life in their nature – opulent, saturate, fabulous, and lavish. And he wanted to give a happy life to her. He dreamed that if she had any tears in her new life, these happy tears would be brought by simply looking at how magnificent the world was.

As Rhett continued to stroke her hair and whisper endearments into her ear, Scarlett's tears began to dry. She no longer trembled, and she wasn't afraid of all her tragedies. It was true that she was in grieve, but grief was a powerful opiate against fear and her anguish was stronger than the earthquake of the strongest magnitude. She wanted to escape from pain and wished nobody to suffer. Was there a variant to achieve that? The answer was evident – truce with her former husband. Scarlett seemed to hear in her ears her own name called from somewhere above and by an unknown person, and that voice was going to appease her. Whoever was calling her, it dragged her out of the monotonous round of a life and the misery she sank into after the accident with Vittorio when he had knavishly betrayed her friendship.

Scarlett didn't want to live in a long trance, having a death-in-life and rotting in hell, as though gently in her solitude. She had to make an effort and push the misery away. She felt as though the heat around her had been so great that she had landed at the edge of the inferno and sprang back involuntarily. She felt as though she had shielded her face from the hottest breath of the flame to the coldest wind from the northern part of the winter Atlantic Ocean. Balance! A word scalded her mind – balance. Scarlett needed balance between the hottest and the coldest masses of the air around her. Scarlett smiled through tears as she had realized that. She struggled wildly in an effort to escape the paralyzing grip of hysteria and distress. She sighed heavily and felt that her heartbeat had become more stable. Scarlett inhaled deeply and exhaled several times and told herself that what had happened remained in the past, while there was the future ahead. Finally, she felt so good that raised her eyes and smiled at Rhett. At least for now, she managed to successfully blow out the flames, she mused.

"Darling, you are so beautiful," Rhett said as he buried his head in her hair. Scarlett's glossy raven hair, which had been arranged in a simple updo in the form of the diadem in the style of _the Second Empire of France_, was loosen and fell down her back as Rhett removed many hairpins from her hairdress.

She looked up at him. "Rhett, for such a dissolute man as you, many women are beautiful to bed them."

Rhett flinched at her words, but his face didn't show his emotions. "Darling, you are one of the most beautiful women whom I have ever kissed." He forced a smile. "And in my bed I had more average women than women who are as beautiful as you are." His smile grew broader. "I had to make happy the less beautiful women, who sometimes are ugly, but very, very beautiful in the purse."

Scarlett smiled through tears. "I don't believe you because I know that you have been with many beautiful women."

"You are the only one I have ever loved, and it is the most important," he retorted.

Scarlett ignored his last comment. She raised her face to look into his black eyes. "Vittorio gave this letter to you, and I didn't write it… I couldn't do it," she murmured.

Rhett smiled with a grim smile. "I know, darling. Annabelle told me about it."

Her green eyes were wide with shock, and they were glistening with tears. "I didn't write that horrible letter," she repeated.

"My dear, calm down. Please, don't torment yourself," Rhett murmured into her ear as he was placing gentle kisses on her tearful face.

"Everybody thought that I was dead. But I was indeed dead. I am dead…"

"No, you are not, Scarlett… I promise you that it will be alright soon." Rhett kissed the top of her head.

"You have already promised me many times and on many occasions, but failed to do it," she hissed at him, and rising hot anger reflected in her emerald eyes. "It is pity you didn't marry Silvia. In this case you would be severely punished for all the mess you created for both of us, my dear Mr Butler."

"Unfortunately, it didn't happen," Rhett jeered, suppressing his irritation, his voice still soft and calm.

"Why did you come now? You ran away from me in London. I understand that you thought that I was dead… The newspapers… and this fabricated deathbed letter… Everything was awful!" Scarlett's her fingers touched her forehead. "But why did you plan to marry _Silvia Ferdinanda Albertson Dawson_?"

A longstanding silence flooded in the room, and the tension in the air was rising. Nobody of them was speaking, apparently waiting for the other one to break the silence.

"Forgive me, Scarlett. I love you," Rhett said simply and looked into her deep green eyes with his dark eyes moist from tears in the corners. "I was emotionally dead after all the events in London. I was drinking myself to death. I was never sober during the time you didn't come to the hotel where I waited for you after the art event for three days. I was disconnected from everything in the world. Yet, my mother pressed me not to break the engagement in order to save the reputation of the Butler name which my mother somehow managed to reestablish. Besides, I remembered the words from the letter Vittorio gave to me. I mean the words that you wanted me to be happy without you, which played its role too. Also, after Belle's death and your presumable death I was mad at myself for all the innocent blood in our relations."

"I don't believe that you love me. I cannot trust you. Pray continue, Rhett."

"My mother said that it was her last will for me to marry Silvia and not to disgrace our family," Rhett sighed heavily.

"I am sorry for the question, but is she very sick?" she asked unceremoniously.

He sighed. "My mother has persistent problems with her heart, and the doctors say she must stay as calm as possible."

"I am sorry to hear this, Rhett."

"Thank you, my darling."

"You are welcome, Rhett."

He glared at her with longing. "Given my deadness and inability to think, my mother pressured me to proceed to this absurd wedding. I was afraid of becoming the reason for her death because she is very sick and could have a heart attack if a new scandal arises."

"You are right in that we had too much blood in our relations…" Scarlett closed her eyes, and Rhett saw tiny tears oozing from the corners.

"We were playing games too hard and too desperately. We should have stopped a long time ago, but we overplayed. It is my entire fault as I started all this mess." Rhett buried his face into her hair.

"Yes, Rhett, we overplayed. You started this mess. You cannot imagine how I hated you after I had left the United States before the official divorce. I hated you so much, and I hated myself for the misery we were living in," Scarlett supplied the darkest truth quietly. "Each day I gave an oath to myself that one day you would feel sorry for what you did to us."

"I am so sorry for not being with you at that time. I was drinking myself to stupor in my unsuccessful attempts to blunt the pain and forget you," he whispered, and she saw an almost fanatic glow in his deep-black eyes. "I was a fool because eventually my behavior just caused more pain to both of us."

Scarlett's green eyes flashed in anger as she recalled what Rhett had done to her. "I hated you so much for the necessity to marry another man in order to save myself and my children from the complete disgrace." She paused to swallow the bitter anger she felt.

Instantly his handsome face was all concern."I can imagine," He simply said. What else could he say?

"I hated you for not being with me when I needed you the most. I hated you for being so cruel. I hated and I loved you."

"Darling, I loved you so much even when I divorced you, but I was running from myself. I know that I was cruel in leaving you after the night in Charleston and in my farewell letter, which you politely called a bestseller on the day of Mammy's funeral. I was cruel in what I made you to make it through alone… I left you alone in a family way. I know that you came to Charleston to talk to me about your pregnancy, and I still remember all the conversation almost by heart." He paused momentarily, sighed, and then went on. "I didn't give you any opportunity to talk to me. I was too self-centered in my pain and tried to protect myself at the expense of your feelings."

"I couldn't tell you the truth during the night in Charleston, but I wanted to do it… It was my mistake… Maybe, I had to tell you somehow and not to run away from the States to Europe," Scarlett admitted. She was still motionless in Rhett's hands, her face buried in his chest.

"I hate myself so much for what happened because of me. If I didn't leave you in Atlanta on the day of Melanie's death or in Charleston after that night, nothing of these tragedies would happen," he sighed deeply, and Scarlett felt how the muscles of his body hardened and how his heart began hampering with double frequency.

"It also happened because of me, Rhett. It is our mutual fault," she generalized. "Answer honestly… If you had known that I was pregnant, would you have divorced me?"

"Scarlett, I would never have done it if I had known," Rhett responded genuinely, stroking her hair. He murmured: "My darling, how happy I was when Annabelle told me that you are alive… I was ready to kneel down and said thanks to God on the spot. My pet, I love you so much… and our children."

"It is good finally unmasking and unveiling of lies and intrigues happened. I am too tired of falsehood, insults, and mortification," Scarlett said quietly, her heart deeply in her throat, tears still streaming down her cheeks.

"Shhh, my darling…" he tried to appease her, continuing to cradle her.

"I am tired of this cursed mask. However, maybe, so far I will continue to wear it in public until I know what to do with my life."

"Unmasking was necessary. What do you mean by the fact that you don't know what you will do with your life?" Rhett asked with poorly hidden alarm in his voice. "I want to marry you, Scarlett. I love you and our children. I want us to be a happy family. We deserve this."

She shook her head. "Everything is ambiguous."

"Did Mammy want you to tell me about the children before her death? Was it your promise?"

"I promised Mammy to be happy, and she thought that I couldn't be happy without you."

"Darling, we can have each other, darling, and our two daughters."

"We don't have each other, Rhett, at least no so far. If you want something from me, don't press me," she insisted. "Too much was crushed down to the ground… too much. I am not sure that I will be able to forget it."

The silence hung over them. The idea to ask the question she wanted to ask seemed to be monstrous for Scarlett to words took form. No, she couldn't force it to her lips and was shivering from the vertex of thoughts surging her mind. Finally she verbalized her question: "Rhett, tell me the truth. How many children do you have in reality?"

Another portion of dead silence fell on them, a silence that pulsed with Scarlett's resentment towards Rhett and his digesting of her unexpected question. This time silence wasn't long.

"As far as I know, Scarlett, I have three children – our daughters and my son Robert."

She could feel her toes and fingers tingling with anxiety as she asked that question. "Are you sure?" she asked again.

"Yes, I am sure," he answered, his voice a steady, flat baritone.

"How can you be so sure? Having a mistress in each city of the world doesn't guarantee at all that you don't have more illegitimate children, Rhett."

He made himself laugh and meet her steady, hard gaze with a mocking mask. "Scarlett, it is not truth. At least, I have never had a mistress in every city of the world."

"Don't try to joke, Rhett. You have always had very many lovers. You have always spent much time with loose women. Who are you, Rhett Butler?" Scarlett smiled half mockingly, half mirthlessly. "You are like a man courtesan!" She answered to her own question.

Rhett laughed. "A male courtesan is a penniless aristocrat," he corrected her.

Scarlett suppressed a smile. "You are a free-of-charge courtesan," she amended.

Rhett smiled and backed to their earlier topic. "I don't have a mistress now. I assure you," he pledged.

"Listen to me, Rhett Butler," Scarlett began in a high voice. "I am not going to be a soul of kindness for you. My heart is probably not so charitable, and I could never have been a nun." She tried to joke a little to lessen the tense between them.

Her last statement made Rhett smiled. "You are definitely not a nun."

"Therefore, Rhett Butler, I am asking these questions you don't like. What about all the years of the exiting life of free bachelor? How do you know for sure that some of your mistresses didn't give you a passel of brats?" Scarlett wanted to insult him as he insulted her during the time of their marriage. Her breathing slowed, and she was in control of herself once more.

"Don't attempt to humiliate me, Scarlett."

She was going to contradict him. "Rhett, I am not trying to humiliate you. I am asking you about the possibilities that you have more illegitimate children. We know that you have a son with Belle Watling, God rest to her soul."

"I have already said that I don't have more children. Robert is Belle's son, and I knew about him a long time ago, my pet."

"And why didn't you tell me about him? I remember your mysterious trips to New Orleans. I even felt in a faintly jealous way as I was sure that you had a sweetheart there. But you told me that you were visiting a boy in New Orleans, characterizing your relations with him as guardianship. What a fool I was!"

"Scarlett, how could I do that? Maybe, during the war when I called on you at Pittypat Hamilton's house… Maybe, during our marriage when you mooned for Ashley Wilkes and were obsessed with buying new clothes, houses, showing the whole Atlanta how rich you were… When could I do it? Besides, my dear, I couldn't do it because it was my private deal with Belle."

He gave a soft whistle."You didn't trust me and hid this fact from me."

Rhett's jaw dropped in frustration. He didn't want to discuss what Scarlett was talking about. Therefore, he decided to outmaneuver his former wife and press on the same subject of trust, but from another angle. "And did you trust me, Scarlett? Did you treat me as a loving wife treats her husband? You wanted only my money and status. As long as I paid the bills, it was fine for you. You didn't care for my desires. You cared only for Ashley and money." He raised his voice from a steady baritone to a sonorous tenor. His blood started to boil under the hurricane of questions, which irritated him.

"And you wanted my body as you hinted many times. I was like your legitimate mistress. There were only few times, Rhett, when you told me that you loved me, but your subsequent behavior and manner of treating me completely refuted it."

"Don't exaggerate, Scarlett. I never wanted only your body. I couldn't tell you about my feelings. I agree that, perhaps, it was a mistake."

"You told me that you didn't love me and even insinuated me that it would be tragic for me to suffer twice from unrequited love. You always brought Ashley to our deals."

"I remember."

"And so do I."

"Scarlett, listen to me. The story with Belle is very old. I knew her for a long time, long before I met you at Twelve Oaks. We had got acquainted in New Orleans more than twenty five ago, even before she moved to Atlanta. Yes, I had intimate relations with her. She has become my friend over the years as she always understood me, unlike others."

"Do you mean me?"

"Yes, Scarlett. I am sorry, but at that time you didn't care for my wellbeing. Belle cared for me."

"Did Belle Watling love you?"

"Yes, she did, Scarlett. I have always known that. But I have never loved her," he confessed.

Scarlett dropped her eyes for a moment and then looked up at him. "Carnival lusts, Captain Butler?" she jeered as she wanted to bite him.

"I don't have any more children and mistresses." He reiterated reassuringly. He deliberately ignored her acid-tongued comment, his voice very calm and serious.

"Rhett, I must thank you very much what you had done with Careen's share of Tara. I didn't expect that you would purchase Carreen's share from the Convent of Savannah for me. Did you do it when you left me in Atlanta alone and we agreed to meet later in Charleston?"

"It is correct. I did this for you and exactly after I had left you in Atlanta. You have almost recovered, and I decided that I could leave you and later meet in Charleston. It was supposed to be a wedding gift. It wasn't very difficult because the bishop was desperately in the need of money to finance the reconstruction of the convent."

"I transferred the money to your account, Rhett." Her voice was confident.

"You didn't need to do it, and you know it," he contradicted.

"Thank you. I greatly appreciate what you have done for me in this aspect." She sounded more pleased than earlier in their conversation.

"What did you do with this share of Tara – assigned your ownership to Suellen as you said when we were at Tara?" he asked.

"Yes, I did, Rhett. Anyway, I will always come back to Tara because this land is my blood. I like France, but I miss Tara very much."

He kissed her forehead, as though he were crooning a lullaby to a child. "I am not astonished, darling."

Then he kissed her hair gently, and the audible silence followed. Rhett was observing her with a narrow gaze, his eyebrows curved in anticipation. She swallowed hard and felt how Rhett's arm held tightly around her waist. Scarlett straightened her body and pushed Rhett away from her. He tried to keep her, grabbing her small shoulders, feeling her bones on them as she lost too much weight due to her sickness. She protested and again pushed his hands away. She lifted her body from his lap, disentangling from him. She went to the window and stopped, frozen and staring outside. She swallowed hard again and felt as her tongue cramped between her teeth.

He shifted a moment and seemed to be considering something. Then his flat baritone spoke. "My pet, how did you meet your late husband? Please do a favor to me to tell me how you got married to that French nobleman."

Scarlett felt her body shivering at that question. The question caught her off guard and she studied his face for an instance. "Why are you asking?"

"I am asking you because we must talk frankly, darling. We have a lot to discuss," he replied.

"Probably," she said amorphously.

"How did you meet your late husband?" Rhett repeated.

"When you pulled me out of the house in Charleston, which was our last meeting before the divorce, I went back to Atlanta to collect my things, then to Savannah to my grandfather's lawyer. Later I returned to Charleston and boarded the ship to be off to Europe," she began. She turned around and stepped forward to a redwood French settee. She settled in the settee comfortably, her eyes wandering across the room and avoiding looking at her former husband. "Later, on one of the evenings in the restaurant, _Mathieu Paul Louis de Harlay de Champvallon, 13th Marquis de Bréval_, introduced himself to me. I considered him to be a pleasant company, and we began to spend each evening with each other. He became my friend whom I needed so much in the aftermath of my terrific loneliness and lamentable heart emptiness. I was so lonely and Mathieu was so close to me. The most befuddling thing was that Mathieu had somehow known you. At least, he said so."

"Actually, I met Monsieur de Bréval twice on business in Charleston. It happened many years ago. He owned a large stake in the Charleston National Bank," Rhett said. "I know that you later sold this stake."

"When Mathieu married me and we relocated to Paris, Mathieu introduced me to Annabelle who was very close friend with Mathieu's first wife," Scarlett elaborated.

"I am asking my pardon, but how did you get married to him? Did he propose to you?" Rhett was truly interested in how her last marriage happen as he was truly astounded with Marquis de Bréval's agreement to recognize Scarlett's children as his own.

"What do you mean, Rhett? You think that I could have twisted him around my little finger? Rhett Butler, you are a varmint! Are you such a low opinion of me?" she fumed, her emerald eyes dancing with equivocal bright sparkles of anger.

"I am sorry, I didn't mean this," Rhett amended, and for a moment he looked almost embarrassed. "I missed your temper, my pet. Fortunately, you still have it, but you better control it than during the times of our… erm… extraordinary marriage. But can you please satisfy my friendly curiosity. How did you manage to get married so quickly after the divorce?"

"Mathieu was a very honorable gentleman. When he realized my doleful inextricable perspective of having an out-of-wedlock child, he proposed to me," her voice coerced into silence, and, sighing deeply, she continued: "My marriage with him was a sort of business arrangement."

"My dear, all your marriages were of business nature, weren't they?" he mocked her, smiling ironically. He didn't want to hurt her, but wanted just to raise a mood to them both.

"Mr Butler, you know that I am a shrewd woman of business and greediness," she teased in response. "Truthfully, Mathieu was sick. He told me that he would die soon and asked me to marry him because he, perhaps, considered me to be a right person to raise his son Charles."

"I see, but it sounds really strange. I am sure that he had other relatives to take care of his son," he frowned slightly and threw a quizzical gaze at her. "I think he had also liked you as a woman because otherwise it would be unlikely that he would have proposed you to marry him."

"I quoted what he told me."

"I am glad that _Marquis Mathieu de Bréval_ married you because he protected you when I was drinking myself to numbness," Rhett said frankly and apologetically. "It is mostly my fault that you were left alone pregnant and in the aftermath had to marry him. You cannot imagine how deeply ashamed of what I did I feel now. As a matter of fact, I felt bittersweet self-disdain," he paused and confessed further: "My self-respect was smashed to the fingernails even in the first year after out divorce, but I was still running from myself."

"Thank you very much for being candid with me now. You know that we never told each other what we felt. I didn't tell you how I felt after the night of Ashley's birthday before the day of Melanie's death. I didn't confess how I missed you in our marital bed after I had kicked you out of the bedroom." She straightened her body, her face screwed up under the weight of sad memories. "I was never frank with you and Melly until it was too late… Too late…"

"Scarlett, I told you that we overplayed and didn't quit in time, as a result losing in the whole game," Rhett sighed heavily. He was seeking her eyes, but she didn't look at him, closing them in her mental fatigue.

Finally, she opened her eyes and glared at him. "But it was you who created all this mess with the games." She paused and raised her voice. "You, Rhett Butler," she pointed out.

He nodded. "I know."

* * *

_The next chapter has just been uploaded. I truly hope you will enjoy it._

_Scarlett and Rhett finally met and are having a heart-to-heart conversation. Next chapter will be devoted to the continuation of the conversation between the couple._

_As for the nights in the bed together… Well… Don't you think that they need more time before the reunion? I daresay that after so many tragedies they cannot simply forgive each other and after one confession of love to spend a night together. They need more time._

_Reviews are very much appreciated. Thank you!_


	61. Chapter 61

**Chapter 61**

**"It looks not like love, but rather tormenting obsession"**

Rhett sighed heavily. "Scarlett, I think that the absence of unvarnished, honest communication, my protective strategy of politely indifference, and your obsession with dubiously honorable Ashley Wilkes were the main problems in our marriage. I know that I taught you to play these games of indifference and strangers, my pet. I did a lot of doubtful things in our marriage."

"Certainly, Rhett," she hissed. Her tone was an insult, and her voice took on a tinge of asperity.

"I know," he agreed.

She smiled at him. A bleak smile crossed her face, and it lent such an incredible charm to her such beautiful features. "Undoubtedly, you did many bad, doubtful things. I would say that you did very many doubtful things."

Rhett looked at Scarlett with his attentive gaze. In the aftermath of the terrible clash with Vittorio and their tense conversation, he could see the little changes time had wrought in her face: the tiny lines about the corners of her eyes and the new tautness of her skin against the elegant bones of her face. In addition, she was extremely thin as the poisoning harmed her beauty and she needed time to recover. As there was no mask of polite indifference on her now, Scarlett looked like a tired, yet frightened woman. She looked like a child who needed defense and protection.

But was Rhett able to protect her and to make her happy? Rhett asked that question to himself. He had failed her so many times in the past. Rhett just hoped that she would be able to believe in his frankness and benevolence this time. Rhett cursed Vittorio and their cruel fate in his mind. The only thing he wanted to do was to scoop Scarlett into his arms and press her to his heart, to take away all her heartache and sadness. However, he knew he had to be cautions with her at that moment. During their conversation, she had already said several tart, bitter things and threw accusations in his face. Therefore, he was careful, very careful in what he was intending to say.

Rhett looked at Scarlett and his heart swelled with love as her black lashes drooped downward for an instance and then flung open again. He loved her and at that magnificent moment when he saw her again he was eternally sure that his love for her had never died. He had been running form himself for so much time. He had been an utter fool and had missed his boat on so many occasions. He knew that it had been their last chance for happiness and peace. He took an oath to use that chance.

Rhett felt that the air in the room turned too thick and heavy. As nobody dared to speak, it was a moment's thunderous silence. It was a tense silence while both of them considered what to say next. Scarlett stared in the emptiness ahead, while Rhett was looking at her face. He thought that it would be better to lessen the tension.

A smiled hovered over Rhett's lips. "Darling, I had rather uncomfortable trip to Austro-Hungary," he said. He hesitated a moment, but then he shrugged and added easily: "I was travelling to Vienna in the old German or Swiss peasant's wagon. This man is the owner of the food store."

Astonished, Scarlett jerked her head up to stare up at him. "What? Are you joking?"

"I am not lying. There were goods and other shipments in the wagon with no place for my old bones."

"You deserved this, the mighty Rhett Butler of Charleston." Scarlett laughed at him, and a vague smile touched her face, but soon faded away. "At least you had uncomfortable journey here. However, this is still a very small payment for all harm you had caused."

"Damn you, Scarlett! There is no war between us!" Rhett growled, wanting something more than just a glib statement with insult from her, yet uncertain precisely what it was he had to do to establish a truce between them.

"I am so tired of this constant whirl of misunderstanding and unwillingness. I am so tired of the world of trumpery and cajolement I used to live in Atlanta and in my new life in Europe," she pronounced crisply, her eyes flashing, and anxiety manifested in her face. "I left the United States for Europe and finally arrived to exactly the same lifestyle of hypocrisy, tawdry and flatter as I had in Atlanta, with the only difference in geographical location, as well as in more historically sublime undertone of aristocratic life in Europe. Tragically, you contributed very much to my life to make it full of trumpery and cajolement."

"Scarlett, you have matured," he said in a decidedly masculine, steady voice. Not a single note of accusation was in his tone. He pledged to stay calm because the last thing he needed now was to provoke her for a new unholy argument.

"Maybe yes maybe no."

"You used to be a young, spoiled, selfish, self-centered belle of the County, who was warm of emotion and easily bewildered by life. Nevertheless, my dear, you are still as selfish and greedy as you were, yet less bewildered." Rhett let out loud, half-mocking laugh and smiled at her kindly. He was truly surprised to hear something like this from Scarlett.

"Maybe," Scarlett replied shortly. She went still, very still; her black brows contracted into a frown above her narrowed eyes.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked in a minute.

"Rhett Butler, you are still as eternally self-assured and arrogant as you used to be! Nothing will ever change you," Scarlett looked at him with pretended scoff and laughed out.

"Do I need to change, darling? I know that you liked me because there is something caddish in my personality," he winked at her joyfully. "We are blackguards, and if we are in union, we exhibit the greatest strength this world has ever seen."

She took a deep breath. "Probably."

A new wave of silence came over them. Rhett saw how she swallowed hard and sighed heavily. He witnessed that she looked away in the semi-darkness of the room and swallowed again, but he didn't speak. Scarlett felt that this silence was strangling her, and she recalled a terrible dryness of the poisoned wine she had drunk on the art event in London. It was wine that appeared to have stuck all sides of her throat.

"We cannot completely change ourselves, but we can learn from our mistakes." She looked at Rhett interrogatively and with anticipation for his further reaction. "I also want to note that your self-assertion and wounded ego of your great personality made you run away from personal problems and conflicts. This is a comical paradox that you made a laughingstock of me that I hadn't understood interpersonal relations, while it was you who suffered a setback in that area."

"Indeed, this is high time for us to learn from our mistakes," he said, staring at her suspiciously. "I agree with your remark regarding my ego, but the same is fair for you as you always used to put for tomorrow your contemplation of personal life."

"Perhaps," a brief answer escaped her lips. Her brain was working quickly. She added with visible indignation and condemnation. "Being the most incorrigible and the most outstanding renegade I have ever known, you are the greatest coward I have ever met." She supplied the truth to Rhett so boldly that he rose to his feet and approached her, gripping her tightly for her forearms.

"I agree with you, but only partly. The failure of our marriage was our mutual fault," he said firmly and slightly tightened the grasp of her hand. He was painfully aware that he was going to say some provoking things, but he was powerless to change it. He must be honest now. "Cowardice is also applicable to you. Do I need to remind you that you had run away from the States, being pregnant by me? Do I need to remind that you fled Charleston not even telling me who told you about my son with Belle Watling and about Silvia Dawson?"

"Don't touch me, Rhett!" she exclaimed and jerked back from him, her emerald eyes blazing in outrage, "I wasn't obliged to tell you who told me about Belle's son and Silvia."

"You are mistaken, _mon ami_. As you live in France, shall I refer to you as _mon ami _or_ chérie_?" he grinned.

Scarlett frowned. "Will you stop jeering?"

"I am not jeering, but rather trying to adapt to your new lifestyle."

"I am not mistaken," she returned to their topic. "I had no obligation to tell you who told me about Belle's son and about your engagement to Silvia."

"If you had told me that Silvia had come to you to Atlanta when you had been sick after the gunshot, I would never have proceeded to the marriage with her! If you only had mentioned this fact in your farewell letter, I would have broken the engagement immediately even after your escape from Charleston!"

Scarlett's eyes flashed dangerously."Ha! Hardly!" she spat. "By God, I will bless the day you understand how much hurt you caused!"

"But you simply stated that your good informers were some of my folks," he continued, ignoring her retort and slightly raising his voice. "Initially, I thought that Rosemary had done this thing. It was Annabelle who told me that they both had visited you in Atlanta."

"You didn't leave me with the only alternative to leave the States for Europe in order not to be completely disgraced by having an out-of-wedlock child. Moreover, I would say I will never regret my decision to go to Europe because I learnt so many new things and met so many interesting people, most importantly, my French relatives from the Robillards whom I dearly love."

"Oh, Scarlett," he began. "I am glad that you don't regret that you escaped, but I will tell you what I really think about your decision to hide your pregnancy from me. I know that there is much of my own fault in this story. However, I am sorry, Scarlett, but even if I hadn't given you a chance to tell me about your pregnancy before the divorce, you must have contacted me anyway! It was my right to know that you were carrying my children. It was your obligation to tell me the truth. In this case you didn't have to flee the United States." Rhett's voice went on as easily as though he had not marked it. "You make decisions and act before you think about the consequences. This is one of the greatest omissions on your side."

"God's nightgown!" she cried out in indignation. "Damn you, Rhett Butler! How could I do it? I couldn't throw myself at you again. Damn you! Damn you! You have more omissions that I do."

"If it was impossible personally after our last meeting before the divorce," Rhett continued, "you could have contacted me through my lawyer. Alternatively, you could have given to Henry Hamilton a letter for me and Henry could have delivered it to my lawyer, if not me. Another possible decision was to come to my house in Charleston again, my pet."

"Ha! To come to you and to let you, Rhett, throw me out of the house again?" Scarlett thundered. His careless words hit her like a slap in the face. Dimly aware that she was hiding behind her anger, Scarlett, her temper now in full blaze, raised her voice to loud, sonorous soprano. "And don't you dare to accuse me of not telling you about the children! You can easily forget about what happened in the past between us and about what you did to me! I cannot! At least, I cannot do it momentarily. And remember very simple fact - you will never see me mewling over you like some half-drowned kitten!"

"I am deeply sorry," Rhett said apologetically, "for what I did on that night when you came to tell me happy news about your pregnancy. I was drunk and was hurting terribly, Scarlett. I wanted to be alone, without the reminder about the past."

"Rhett, it is not the plausible justification," she insisted. Frowning, she gazed off into the distance. "It doesn't lessen what you did."

"Scarlett, in addition you could have told me about our children in Atlanta after you had woken up from your oblivion. We had more than a week of normal communication and even I proposed to you. Instead, you chose to keep silent and were thinking about your sweet avengement. As a result, you made up a plan to leave me in Charleston with that long letter and sail for Europe."

"I couldn't have told you, Rhett!" she protested in a calmer voice, but her eyes sparkled wickedly. "Not after all your lies and after Silvia's visit. Don't make me look like a conceited fool."

"I am not insulting you, _mon ami_. I am telling you about the alternatives you had. I don't varnish my own reputation, and, certainly, I don't discard my own mistakes." All signs of earnestness were manifested on his swarthy face. He repeated: "If I had known about our children, I would never have divorced with you. You didn't tell me partly because of your selfishness."

"My selfishness? By Heavens, don't forget about your own selfishness! Indubitably, you needed time to grieve for Bonnie's death, but you didn't think that I was also hurting! You wanted to be alone, away from me and your doleful memories, but you didn't consider that you had caused much harm to other people in your madness and grief. You never consider interests and feelings of other people!" Scarlett spat. An eyebrow cocked sardonically, she echoed:"I didn't have other alternatives, excluding running away from you to be safe."

Rhett chuckled. "I am not blaming only you, my dear, but you must acknowledge that there was an element of selfishness in your decision to conceal the truth from me." He paused to clear his throat. "I know you, Scarlett, even if you have matured. You wanted to throw the truth at my face in the future and to blame me. I know that you have thought about it many times since our divorce. Otherwise you wouldn't be my dear Scarlett. Otherwise you wouldn't be unique. Otherwise I wouldn't love you."

"Yes, Rhett! I wanted to accuse you of that! I was dreaming of it!" she finally provided breathlessly.

"And I agree that I was selfish in thinking only about how much I was hurting and going mad after Bonnie's death. You see, we both are too selfish," he said with an irrepressible twinkle in the black eyes. "Scarlett, I want a time of truce between us, perhaps an uneasy truce, but a truce nonetheless."

"Rhett, I left you in Charleston because I wanted to put you in my bones and skin. I wanted you to feel how I felt when you ran away from me several times in the past. I can remind you all the times if you want. I am not a coward! From us, most likely you are a coward."

"Maybe, you are right," Rhett said in melancholy, looking at her attentively. "But is there any difference between punishing me by running away from Charleston and my own behavior when I ran away from you in the past? I ran from myself, and so did you."

She settled herself into the chair. "Alright."

Then he lifted his head and looked at her, his black eyes glittering in the dim light form the candles. "What do you want to say?"

"You have won this time. You always win, don't you?" she scoffed, her tone epigrammatic.

"Scarlett, it was our mutual fault," he reminded her. "Mutual fault," he repeated.

"Yes, Rhett, I know," she agreed as her temper eased under his candidness.

"Do you intend to continue these games? Why are you doing this?" Rhett questioned with evident dissatisfaction. "If we want to start our life from the clean page, we must understand that we both made mistakes and that we must stop torment each other. Do you understand this?"

Audible silence followed, and tension in the air strengthened. Their eyes locked in a silent duel of wills and stubbornness. They both were too stubborn to meet each other halfway, but they tried.

"Mr Butler, your love is too much associated with mortification, distrust, devil-may-care treatment of me, cruelty, and bitterness," she said sorrowfully.

"I know." Rhett stood up and put almost all his weight on the right foot as if he was thinking whether to approach her, he stopped himself and sank back into the chair. "Scarlett…"

"I got accustomed to these associations and to pain. I am not sure that I can forget it." Scarlett said, a hint of tauntingly sardonic laughter lurking in her voice.

"My pet, you were so obsessed with Ashley before and during our marriage that only my devil-may-care strategy, as you call it, only my polite indifference saved me from complete insanity," he objected. "I couldn't let you know my true filings, although twice I revealed them to you."

"How can I trust you, Rhett? How? You have always been so protective of yourself, caring for me by buying presents and gifts. That is not enough," she shook her head and closed her eyes, "especially now."

"_Chérie_, I said that your obsession had been destroying me over years and Bonnie's death had ruined me completely. I was not myself. If you also bring the recent tragedy in London, I said that I was crushed by Belle's death and your presumable death. Additionally, that cursed deathbed note forged by _Vittorio Amedeo Alberto di Savoia, the Duke of Naples_, contributed much to my despair. I still wonder how I just drank every day and didn't do something worse." His voice was downtrodden and heavy.

"I understand, Rhett. I know that we both have done many mistakes." Scarlett was breathing heavily. She was fighting back her tears. "But how can I trust you, Rhett? You always were disloyal to me. You proposed to marry me, but you didn't tell me that you were engaged to Silvia."

"My pet, I have to repeat that if you hadn't run away to Europe, I would have broken my engagement to Silvia. If you somehow had told me about your pregnancy, I would never have divorced you, even though at that time I was not sure in my desire to have more children. Scarlett, I recognize that it was very difficult for you to tell me the truth as I didn't give you a chance when you came to me and later… Well, you know."

"You weren't faithful to me when we were married. You have always been bedding whores, Rhett."

"I had been faithful to you before you kicked me out of your bedroom in your endeavor to avoid pregnancy and under the spell of your languish for Ashley Wilkes," he countered. "My pet, I have always been loyal to you mentally, if it makes you happier. I have always loved you, even when I escaped from my real desires." Rhett dragged a hand through his hard ebony hair.

"You have always been a womanizer and a haunter of whorehouses," she added acidly, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You are a famous voluptuary."

"I haven't bedded whores since the moment you ran away from me in Charleston. I told you about it in London," Rhett declared. He cast down his eyes as he slipped the fragment of his wild encounter with Giselle in London and looked at his twisted fingers of the right hand on his lap. "I may promise you that after our marriage," he paused, then watching her very closely, he said, "if it happens, I will always be loyal to you if you don't deprive me of my natural marital rights."

"I don't have any intention to somehow abridge your matrimonial rights to me now if you marry me, but now it is not the issue to discuss." Scarlett looked down on her hands in gloves, thinking about some dark-blue spots in the fingernail zone she still had and desperately wishing them to disappear. "Even if you were faithful to me, I would not trust you in other aspects."

"And neither can I. Don't you think so, Scarlett?" Rhett questioned irritatingly, then smiled with both his eyes and his lips, but it was a sad smile. "My darling, may I believe that we arrived at truce?"

A prolonged heartrending pause in their heart-to-heart conversation followed. Slowly, the wheels in Scarlett's complicatedly messed up mind began to turn, and she again put herself in Rhett's shoes. Indeed, could he trust her when she had hidden his children from him and had run away from the personal problems in the time of their unhappy marriage and later in Charleston to punish him for his past wrongdoings and transgressions? She appreciated Rhett's candidness, but she still had so much pain in her heart.

"Rhett, I greatly appreciate your desire to meet me halfway and your frankness. I understand your pain in relation to what happened in Charleston. Well, I mean, the recent scandal around your family."

"Thank you, Scarlett," he replied genuinely, anguishes sneaking up in his voice. "Indeed, it is very painful. However, my heart is still beating because you and our children are alive. Only this fact doesn't make me emotionally dead."

"I know, but a lot of things happened. And we don't need to live in the world of illusions - we must be realists, even if it is painful," she announced, her voice flickering as she foolhardily tried to swallow rising sobs in her throat.

"What do you mean?" Rhett questioned anxiously, looking at her with alarm.

"Rhett, there is so much blood between us… Listen to me now, please, very attentively," Scarlett paused as a tide of hot tears and pain overcame her body. She started to shake a little. "Bonnie died… Two our unborn children died… Charles, Mathieu's son, died, and I feel that I betrayed Mathieu who saved me when I needed his very much. Imagine that Mathieu married me knowing that I was pregnant by another man!"

"I know about it, Scarlett. However, I wouldn't idolize _Marquis Mathieu de Bréval_. I wouldn't think that he was absolutely ideal and absolutely sinless gentleman."

"Never talk about Mathieu in this tone! Never do it! Mathieu was an honorable gentleman. In addition, he was strong-minded and intelligent. He was an aristocrat through and through."

"I am sorry. I didn't want to offend you," he said sincerely. "I know that he was a good man, and I respect him."

"I hope so, Rhett," Scarlett said in a tart tone. Then she slid her eyes shut for an instance. "I didn't keep my world to Mathieu. Your dear fiancée Silvia killed Geoffroy and Charles! Don't forget that Geoffroy's twin brother Armand is too depressed that he doesn't eat and doesn't sleep! I am sick of guilt! Everything was ruined by your dear fiancée!"

"Silvia is not my dear fiancée," Rhett amended tartly.

She rolled her eyes. "Silvia was your dear fiancée. And she killed Charles and Geoffroy. And I blame myself for it."

"_Mon ami,_ you shouldn't blame yourself. You didn't know what Silvia would do."

"In addition, I also didn't want our shameful coupling on the art event in London. Recall that I objected. Perhaps, I had a bad presentiment… but if it didn't happen, I wouldn't have a second miscarriage… I am so traumatized with what happened as a result of our weakness during the ball… Traumatized both physically and mentally… I feel so much pain that I cannot breath…"

"Scarlett, my darling…" Rhett rose to his feet and approached her, but she stood up and moved back from him. "_J'veux etre avec toi (I want to be with you)."_

Scarlett waved a dismissive hand and struggled to her feet. "Don't, Rhett," she said tartly, even apocalyptically. "I feel like I am falling down from terrific altitude, and I don't know whether it is hell, intermittent stage, or paradise… Three children died. I am talking now only from my point of view. Who will die next time? You or me? Too much blood, Rhett, too much… I cannot carry on now and I am very confused…"

"Scarlett, we must…" Rhett began, but she interrupted him.

A dangerous glitter came into her pale green eyes as her gaze went from the broken vase on the floor to Rhett's face. "God's nightgown! Listen to me!" She raised her voice to make him listen to her. Then she shut her eyes for a moment.

"I am listening." Rhett saw tears streaming down her face, and his heart was hampering harder and harder.

Scarlett's voice was edged with all-pervading bitterness and heartache. "I am very confused in my pain… Yes, I have matured, but I am still bewildered by this cruel life… I feel like our positive, passionate feelings to each other are lying in ashes."

"_Chérie_…" his voice trailed off as she waved him for silence. He wanted to drown himself in her green eyes, to pull her into his arms, and beg her to say aloud three words he had spoken to her today.

"I don't know whether we can aggregate the small broken fragments together. Weren't we punished enough by God? Was our relationship given to us in order to punish us for our past sins? I don't know even whether it is love or obsession. Maybe, it is excruciating obsession and agony?"

"God, it was never easy and will never be easy between us, Scarlett. We are so unique and so much alike, and this similarity at times may work against us." Rhett signed heavily. He rubbed his temples and continued. "I had very similar questions in my mind when I thought that you were dead. I blamed myself for your, Belle, and Bonnie's deaths. I was going mad at myself in my self-disgust and was sick of frantic guilt."

"Oh, it is very fair."

Rhett ignored her sneer. "Later, when Annabelle came and the truth was discovered - the truth about poisoning and our children, happiness overwhelmed me and I swore to myself that I would quit these games and make you do this, Scarlett. The grotesque was that I even compared myself with Ashley. I called him a weak creature, but I also was weak… I took an oath that I would survive and help you survive through this ordeal, which I caused, at least partly. But I knew that you were alive and our children were alive, and only this fact helped me to carry on."

"Why were we so punished?" she whispered, her eyes moist from hot tears. She felt how Rhett stepped forward again and embraced her tightly. Now his hard lips were gently brushing her dark hair on the right temple.

"Scarlett, I won't press you, I promise. And I won't run away. We can forget it, Scarlett. We can do it," Rhett assured her, tenderly kissing the crown of her head.

Rhett's breath froze at the subtle sensation of her body pressing against him. He dropped his hand to her waist, gently sliding it around her, drawing her tighter to him.

Her eyes flashed. "Maybe yes maybe no." She disentangled from him, and closed her eyes.

"I am listening," he repeated.

"Please, abstain from any outpourings of love as it is needless now. Too much was broken… Too many tragedies… occurred. Too much deep-drawn, bitter scars in our souls… Maybe, you were correct that we cannot glue the broken fragments and should remember our relations in their previous glory. I am not sure that fate will bring us something good if we both step on the same road again. Maybe, pure love cannot die and is always perceived through hardships that help us grow, stay compassionate, feel joy, and eventually be happy together. I don't have answers to these questions."

"Scarlett, please…" Rhett half pleaded, half breathed, but she ignored him.

"What I told you about my feelings to you two and a half years ago and in London is truth, and nothing changed from my side. Please, remember this. But I don't trust you and even myself…" Her smile was laced with pure melancholy. She held his gaze. "I am somewhere on the land of confusion and tiredness. I want something fresh, but I don't see it," Scarlett paused, breathing in deeply, and, opening her swollen from tears eyelashes, finished, "I am too tired. I am not joking… I am too tired… And, being completely honest, I am scared of novelty."

"Scarlett, pray continue," he said acidly. He stepped towards her, but stopped as she blenched from him back to the window. "Don't lose your courage. Speak out." His voice was edged stern – gentleness evaporated for a second.

The shattering tenderness of the words sent a jolting tremor up Scarlett's spine, a reaction which was not lost on Rhett. He saw her stiffen, and for one chilling second he thought he would only imagined that she didn't accept his love today. She took another imperceptible step backward.

"I am very tired and confused. Time will define our future, Rhett. I don't want a sort of dark, morbid love, but rather luminous, pure-hearted love. I understand you, but it is just can be too late. Too late…" her voice trailed off as she swallowed hard, feeling a huge lump coming in her throat. "And to grasp the truth, at first I must find peace by myself. And so do you. Whatever happens, I want you to know that I will never forget you as you are my fresh and blood, my twin soul, Rhett. You broke me, Rhett… And I broke you…"

"I understand you very well. I am asking you to forgive me for breaking your heart and for my cruelty. I know that I was a damned fool when I caused all this mess. I know that when I rush in your life unceremoniously and ask you to accept me, it looks at least awkward from my side," Rhett broke off to compose himself in this first in their lives completely honest conversation. "As I said, I won't pressure you, my darling. Indeed, we broke too much, but I believe that it is not too late to restore our life and marriage in its new glory and solidity. We need to be honest with each other. No more lies, no more masks, Scarlett."

"You broke me, Rhett, and I broke you… And these pieces of our love and marriage are wrapped in human blood, betrayal, falsehood, mortification. I was shattering you during our marriage, but you paid me back in the last three years. We are even Steven." In an impulsive rush of feeling, Scarlett continued her dialogue with her former husband, which more resembled the internal monologue. "But it is just too much to carry on in my heart. We caused much harm to each other. We made so many mistakes. I cannot forgive myself for so many things. I cannot forgive myself for Ashley, Charles and Geoffroy's deaths. I cannot forgive myself for other tragedies… and for not being a good mother to Bonnie… I tried as much as I could with Blanche and Isabelle but I still see the room for further work. And I cannot strangle this pain and guilt… It is suffocating me, taking all the breath from me."

"Scarlett, my dear, I love you so much… We can rise from ashes and do it together."

Rhett stepped closer to her, but again stopped himself as he saw her turning her body round to escape him. He realized that, perhaps, it would be better to establish friendship at first and regain her trust.

"No, Rhett! Please, restrain from love professions, at least for some time. I don't believe you!" she spat.

He glared at her. "Go on."

"You once told me that I loved what I didn't have. In this case you usually referred to Ashley. Now I can tell you the same," she paused for a second, short silence between them as they scrupulously studied each other. Then she said in French: "_On n'aime que ce qu'on ne possède pas tout entier (We love only what we do not wholly possess)._"

"Scarlett…" Just that one word and Scarlett thought that she might very well swoon soon.

"I want to believe, but I cannot! It is neither time nor place now. You will simply do things even worse because in this case spell of confusion will entirely capture me soon. Maybe, it is not love, but rather obsession? You should look deeply into your heart, Rhett." She swallowed rising wave of tears in her throat, her eyelashes almost dry now.

"I know what I feel for you," he smothered a smile.

"Rhett, there are some points in life when everything is irrevocably crumbled and any attempts to restore it are useless. These attempts can only screw up our lives with additional stabbing pain. This pain will become nagging and then transform to obtuse, but still present in our hearts. In this case scars don't cicatrize," she trailed off, her face somber as she looked across at Rhett. Then in a weary voice she said: "I need to be sure that we didn't pass this point before we make an attempt to continue arm-in-arm together in the future. I must be confident that being together won't cause even the pain. I don't want relief of pain, but rather her total absence and just happiness. So far, I don't know whether it is not late."

He clenched his fists in the pockets. "You have all the time you need, my dear," he said.

Rhett realized the greatness of Scarlett's emotional damage and fragility. A new strong wave of self-disdain and feverish guilt fulgurated his body as he saw the results of their cruel games. His heart was beating faster and faster. His general emotional fatigue and tumult would be clearly and solidly embedded in his voice, if he didn't force almost with inhuman will his voice to sound calm and his face to be blank.

"Too much was broken between us… Broken in millions of smallest pieces… And innocent blood became the godmother of our relations." Scarlett breathed heavily, and her voice was plain and calm now. Her tears dried. No, she couldn't forgive right now. Her arrogant pride, pain, and distrust still clashed against the emotions he aroused within her, and all the above kept her from being at least temporarily at ease with the present situation. "I am not convinced that the fate favors our reunite. It is just too much," she paused.

"Too much," he echoed thoughtfully.

Scarlett quoted somberly: "_L'amour fait les plus grandes douceurs et les plus sensibles infortunes de la vie (Love makes life's sweetest pleasures and its worst misfortunes)."_

"Who said that?_"_

"It is from _Choix de pensées de l'amour_ by _Mademoiselle Madeleine de Scudery_ or _Sapho_._"_

"_Sapho_ is acknowledged the first bluestocking of France and of the world." Rhett coughed. He was astonished that Scarlett knew who _Sapho_ was. "Is it Annabelle's influence?"

Scarlett perceived his question as pure mockery. She won't allow him to mock her. Not anymore. Now she was not a sixteen-year-old girl. Of course, she managed to learn so many new things from Annabelle and her French relatives. She also read some books and memoirs on her own. But interest to _Sapho _came to Scarlett from the Duke of Aylesbury who adored _Sapho's_ life and achievements, including those in literature. She didn't read _Sapho's_ books in original, but she remembered some details of her life and many quotes as the Duke of Aylesbury was often quoting her.

"I know who _Sapho_ is, Rhett," she said sternly. "I know about _Sapho_ as the Duke of Aylebsury told me very much about her on many occasions. He is often quoting her. He is a connoisseur of French literature, including that of _Sapho_," she explained.

"Again the Duke of Aylebsury," he answered in a harsh tone.

A frown marred her forehead. "Rhett, please, change your tone."

"Fine," he said simply.

"If you don't change the tone when you are talking about the Duke of Aylesbury, I am going to make you very, very sorry for this," she said in an undertone.

"Scarlett, darling, I know how guilty I am, and I will bear the cross until my dying day," Rhett confessed emphatically. "And I want you to come to me when something bothers you, even if you accuse me of something terribly disgusting. I want you to complain me when everything looks bleak and gloomy for you. I want you to tell me about your fears and internal obsession if you have them, even if you supply me with the darkest truth. I want you to share your problems with me. Remember how it was during the war when we had such amicable, friendly relations."

"Thank you for your candidness," she said gratefully, her voice going into a soft drawl. She stepped forward, in the direction of the door. "I will try to be honest with you. I will."

"Where are you going, darling?" he inquired softly and looked at her anxiously.

"Rhett, I am tired. I am going to my room number to get some sleep."

There was a look of mingled despair and defiance on his face. "Scarlett…" Rhett interjected.

She interrupted him and gestured for him to keep silence. "I won't spend the night in your room number. That's enough for me. I am not your whore whom you can throw away after the night of passion," Scarlett cut him off sharply, her eyes glittering in determination. She continued in an icy tone: "Come to my suite at ten in the morning. Don't be late, please. We will be having breakfast, and I will introduce you to our daughters."

"Scarlett, I didn't want to hurt you. I am sorry if I have just done it. You misunderstood me, my pet," Rhett pronounced in a low voice.

"It looks not like love, but rather tormenting obsession."

"Tormenting obsession," he repeated.

She gazed solemnly at him. "Yes."

He also gazed grimly, nearly apocalyptically, at her. "This is how you call it."

"Yes."

"Fine,_ mon ami_," Rhett's monosyllabic answer followed.

"I think you are tired after a long journey. We will talk tomorrow. I am sorry for broken vases, Rhett."

"Don't bother yourself with trifles."

Unable to help himself, Rhett gave her one long last look. Almost hungrily he stared at her, taking in the flawless features, the mass of dark flaming curls, the wide-spaced pale green eyes, the willful, passionately full mouth, and that slender body that fitted his so exquisitely. He will remember the achingly beautiful picture of her during the upcoming restless night.

Scarlett leapt to her feet and moved toward the exit. She paused at the doorway and swung round to look at Rhett. "Goodnight, Rhett," she said softly. As she said that, a faint smile stirred her lips, but not eyes.

Rhett sighed. "Goodnight, Scarlett."

Scarlett turned around and slowly opened the door. As she went out, she slammed the door loudly behind her, leaving her former husband alone in the flurry of his thoughts.

Rhett realized that it wouldn't be easy to win Scarlett back. She loved him, but she didn't trust him. Indeed, she couldn't trust a man who had abandoned her and had betrayed her trust so many times in the past. Rhett acknowledged that he would have to be very cautious and very patient, even more patient than he had initially planned to be. The way to their reconciliation would be rather long, complicated, and with many hardships they would have to overcome. It would be the way to the stars through many difficulties, conflicts, and dramas. He realized that at first they needed to reach a sort of transitional peace before they could step on the road of trust and happiness. Rhett just hoped that they would be able to raise their love from ashes to the shining stairs in the beautiful night sky.

"_Per aspera ad astra_," Rhett whispered into the silence of the room. "Scarlett, my love, I will do everything possible to make us happy," he took an oath to himself.

* * *

_In this chapter the heart-to-heart conversation between Rhett and Scarlett is finished. Next chapter will be about the meeting with the children and some further talk. Soon we will be moving to their time in Vienna and Scarlett's meeting with François, Annabelle's love. The Duke of Aylesbury will reappear soon._

_I know that this story is very detailed, and hence it is very difficult for you to remember all the details, especially from the first chapters. Therefore, a short overview of what happened in the story will be presented soon. Wait and you will be able to recall all the events._

_Reviews are appreciated. Thanks._


	62. Chapter 62

**Chapter 62**

_**Philippe Robillard **_**or **_**Philippe Justin Robillard-Arden, 8th Duke of Aylesbury**_**?**

As Scarlett and Rhett were talking and quarreling who was to be blamed and for what, the Duke of Aylesbury was spending time at his mansion on _Herrengasse_ or "_Lords' Street_" as was called by lay audience. By the Middle Ages _Herrengasse _had become a residential district for the nobility of Vienna. This is why in the late 13th century the Habsburgs took up residence in _the Hofburg Imperial Palace_ just at the end of this street. The splendor of the district's numerous palaces has earned the capital of Austro-Hungary its renown. After Vienna began to establish itself as the imperial capital, the nobility, known in German-speaking countries as Herren or Lords, increasingly migrated to the city to be close to the residence of _the Habsburg rulers_ – _the Hofburg_. The _Herrengasse_ consisted almost exclusively of noble palaces and mansions in the Gothic, the Neo-Gothic, the Baroque, the Renaissance, and the Neo-Renaissance styles. It was known as one of the most beautiful streets in Vienna, but the Duke of Aylesbury didn't care.

That day was very special for _Philippe Justin Robillard-Arden, 8th Duke of Aylesbury_. Today Aylesbury was in mourning for his past and for his entire life as a wave of lamentable, yet sweet and gentle memories overcame his fatigued mind. Being a handsome man with black eyes and jet-black hair, at the peak of his strength and energy, Aylesbury usually looked like a dashing dandy from a ballroom in London or Paris. Aylesbury was, everybody would see immediately, a figure of authority. He looked like a man who would break the rules if it suited his own purpose, and he looked dangerous. Most importantly, Aylesbury was dispassionate. His face was mainly expressionless, and his black eyes were always aloof and blank. If he smiled, that smile only flickered on his lips, never enlightening his eyes and his heart. His beautiful black eyes were stony.

Therefore, everybody in the European high society was accustomed to see Aylesbury's polite indifference and courtesy. However, it was not only about usual polite indifference - it was about absolute dispassionateness and self-possession even in the most critical situations. There were numerous murmurings behind Aylesbury's back as nobody among the beau monde of Europe could understand how that handsome powerful aristocrat can be so cold-livered. It was well-known he had many mistresses as Aylesbury didn't avoid women's attention and accepted it with a cold, impassible smile. However, even his mistresses always said that he was with them in everyday life as lackadaisical as he was in the society; they also added that he was one of the best lovers they had ever had. The Duke of Aylesbury was an enigmatic man. In the ton of England and in the European high society Aylesbury was called "_a dispassionate Boreas"_: _dispassionate_ because of his infamous coldness and nonchalance and _Boreas _in honor of _Boreas_ – Greek god of the cold north wind and of winter. It was what society tended to think about Aylesbury.

Today, in that very special evening, the Duke of Aylesbury no longer looked as a dispassionate devil. Everything was different. Aylesbury was dressed dramatically in black, and only his navy blue cravat contrasted his evening attire: his shirt, his gloves, his waistcoat, his trousers, and his tailcoat were black. Despite his expensive, smart, spick-and-span attire, he no longer looked like a dashing dandy from a ballroom. Strictly speaking, he looked like a heavy-hearted, self-dramatizing dandy in mourning. Aylesbury looked even more dangerous and more authoritative. Most importantly, he looked emotional - he looked heartbroken and distraught. Today the Duke of Aylesbury looked like a dangerous, lugubrious, dashing dandy in chasmal mourning.

The Duke of Aylesbury stared at the miniature of a beautiful raven-haired, dark brown-eyed woman. His gaze fixed at her miniature and he whispered into silence the dates of Ellen Robillard's birth and death. He shut his eyes and sighed heavily. Aylesbury had a difficult time keeping the tears from his eyes. As he opened the black eyes, they were liquid with unshed tears. He turned his face away from her miniature, but soon his eyes again flew to it. He couldn't help himself as his gaze returned to her miniature, a treasure for him. He was keeping it in the inside pocket of his jacket, close to his heart.

Aylesbury was standing near the window in his bedroom. He was rooted and motionless. He was speechless. Although his face was passionless and his mimic was frozen, as he was accustomed to control his emotions, for which he was thought to be a passionless devil, his languishing, tearful, mournful eyes betrayed the true state of his mind – chasmal mourning. His eyes were dark not only because of their natural color, but because of profound sorrow and unredeemable loss. He sighed heavily. The tears he had been fighting spilled over. The man seemed to be at the breaking point.

Aylesbury smiled through hot tears oozing in the corners of his black eyes as he recalled Ellen's face and the last night they had spent together. It happened in May 1862. They spent several hours in the night together in the small house near the fields at her plantation - Tara. Philippe had sent his confident James Breckenridge to Ellen. James had always been an intermediary in his communication with Ellen, but he didn't know Philippe's true life story and identity, although he probably guessed that his master was having a love affair with that woman at Tara. Aylesbury trusted him because James was a man with whom Philippe had worked on his secret missions together and who was his main agent among many others. When several times the Duke of Aylesbury went to the United States, James always accompanied him. James was a friend, a partner, and a confident for the Duke.

As James visited Ellen at Tara, she sent to Philippe a note where she wrote that she would be waiting for him in that house at one in the morning. He came in time, excited in his anticipation. The door was open as he pushed it and came inside. Ellen said right – there was nobody in the house and in general around. Philippe was alone in complete stillness. Ellen arranged everything. As he realized that she was late, he began to worry if she was going to come. He couldn't check what happened and what delayed her. At last, Ellen came at two in the morning when everybody was sleeping and there was absolute stillness everywhere around. She was delayed because she waited for Mammy to fall asleep. Then she freely left the master house and quickly made her way to that small house they agreed to meet in. As she entered the house, she turned the key, slipping it into her small purse.

"Philippe, darling!" Ellen exclaimed. She came closer and sat down in the chair near him.

"My love, I thought you wouldn't come." Philippe smiled at her with delight.

Ellen smiled tremulously. "I was waiting for a convenient moment. I had to be sure that Mammy had fallen asleep. We must be careful in order not to be discovered."

Philippe put his fingers to his temples, his eyes narrowed. "I see."

"What is it, darling? Are you having headache?"

"No, I am fine, Ellen. Don't worry," he assured her. "I am a little tired after a long, uncomfortable journey from Charleston to Atlanta and then to Jonesboro."

"Philippe, I didn't expect you to come. I was surprised when your man came to me. How did you manage to come to the South? It could be very dangerous now."

"If I wanted something, I would anyway do it," Philippe simply replied.

"I mean that it can be dangerous also not only because of the war," Ellen clarified.

Philippe smiled at her. "I know what you mean. I don't care. I would come earlier, but I had a lot of things to do in Calcutta. This year I spent in Europe only three months - two months in London and one month in Paris and Toulouse."

"You seem to be very busy in British India."

He wagged his head in agreement. "Yes."

"There are your children? In London?"

"Now in London," he clarified. "They spent three months in Calcutta and then returned to London with Georgette. My eldest son Jasper and my son Morgan are studying at Eton College. Others have their tutors, governors, and governesses, both English and French, and they are in London. Unfortunately, my children cannot spend all the year with me."

"At least you can still see them when you live in India for a long time," Ellen admitted.

Philippe gave a nod. "Yes." His mouth curved in a familiar languishing smile, his black eyes were scintillating. "Ellen, I was dreaming of meeting with you."

"I was also dreaming," she said sincerely and smiled. There was a short pause, but it was the brightest pause in their life in the past years. "Three and a half years have passed since you were in the States last time."

"I would never return here if there was no opportunity to see you. I returned because each time I drifted to sleep I saw your well-graced, slightly tilting, dark eyes, Ellen. And I saw your face in front of me."

"I know. The same is with me. Almost every night. And the longer I don't see you, the more often I dream about you," she replied. "But when you come here, you are risking your life. If you are discovered, you will be arrested and hanged. If my father discovers that you are alive and all the more came here, you will be dead."

"I don't care," he whispered.

"You should care. I don't want you to die. I want you to live."

"I don't care," he repeated in a half whisper.

"You should care," she countered, her voice shaking. "I want you to live even if you are not with me."

"My life is utter hell without you."

"What about your children? You have to live at least for them. You have many children and you love them. I remember everything you told me about them."

"Sweetheart, I never feel so alive in England or France or anywhere else, but I feel so alive now when you are so close to me."

"Oh, Philippe," Ellen murmured. She glanced at him musefully. "Oh, darling. Oh, Philippe."

Philippe's intense gaze held Ellen's. "You know that I love you. I love you from the bottom of my heart. I will never love another woman."

Ellen lifted her gaze to him and looked into his black eyes she worshiped if not idolized. "I love you too, my darling. I love you, and my heart is beating for you."

"I love you, my Elaine. You are _amour de ma vie (love of my life)_," he whispered into the silence.

She winked at him. "You are again calling me my Elaine!"

"Yes."

"You still are a worshiper of French amorous endearments."

"Assuredly." He didn't contradict as it was true. Not only his blood was French - his mind was French, although he had become a citizen of the world in the past years.

She laughed then in her melodic voice, throwing back her head. It was a laugh Philippe loved so much and dreamed to hear when he was far from her. "I see," she drawled. "I am also French by blood. And thus I understand you. At times I am dreaming about France." She looked dreamily.

"I wanted to come here so much."

"Darling, don't risk yourself so much. Please, don't do it," Ellen pleaded. "There is the war with the Yankees, and it is dangerous for you to come here. Besides, there are also other circumstances."

Ellen swallowed hard as she remembered what had happened with them and how their love and hopes for happiness were shattered in millions and billions and trillions of twiggy pieces. It was an atrocious fate and her father Pierre Robillard who separated them from each other in such a cruel manner when he broke and twisted their lives without any hesitation and second thoughts.

"My Elaine, my love, my sweet love, I am always risking myself when I am in British India or somewhere else in Southeast Asia. Well, you know my story."

"There are enough risks in your life," she said softly. "Don't provoke fate. Don't take more risks."

Philippe smiled. That smile wasn't a smile of his full lips and his black eyes, but rather an illumination of his whole body, his heart and soul. It was as though there was a flame burning inside him. "If it is a risk to come to you, my Elaine, it is the sweetest risk I have ever taken. I am ready to take it."

"I want you to be reasonable, Philippe," she refuted in a gently voice. "You know I am married…"

Philippe interrupted her. A warm smile was gone. His voice turned sharp. "I know. Don't bother yourself to remind me about it."

"Darling, I didn't mean to insult or offend you, but it is harrowing reality."

He suddenly became very serious. "Ellen, I came here urgently because I know about the war. The Yankees will conqueror the whole Confederacy within several years at most. It is dangerous for you to stay here."

Ellen's eyes went wide. "Why do you think so?"

"Ellen Robillard, now you have to listen to me," he said crisply. "You don't know who the Yankees are. I have seen many things that you all, the Southerners, have never seen and even fantasized. You cannot even guess what I mean. At first, there are the thousands of immigrants who would be glad to fight for the Yankees for food and a few dollars if they are paid. And they are and will be paid enough as the Yankees have good fortune and their economy is flourishing, unlike the economy of the Confederacy. Secondly, there are many factories, foundries, shipyards, iron and coal mines with large production capacity. The technologies that the Yankees own are beyond the reach of the Southerners. The Confederacy doesn't have all things which are necessary to win the war. All that the Confederacy has are cotton plantations, numerous slaves, the Southern code of honor and damned respectability, and the Southern arrogance. And how are you going to vanquish the Yankees? They would lick the Southerners very soon."

She waved a dismissive hand for him to keep silent. "Philippe, you are also the Southerner by birth," she exclaimed. "Or has the British Crown, your Grace the Duke of Aylesbury, entirely taken your heart and soul?" When Philippe moved toward Ellen, she spat venom. "Don't touch me, Philippe!"

Philippe stopped himself and sank back into the chair. "I didn't forget that I was born in Savannah."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

She gave him a vague smile. "I hope so."

"Savannah is the most boring place I have ever visited," he snapped sluggishly. Then he rubbed his temples in thoughtfulness. "Bloody hell! I forgot Charleston. It is also swampland."

"Philippe, please don't say so," Ellen demanded in a low, beseeching voice.

"It is settled, darling. I will never raise this topic again." Philippe raised his hands as though he had surrendered at her discretion. "Probably, I am more French in my heart than I used to think. I have discovered it recently."

The Duke of Aylesbury remembered that at that night she was wearing a grey silk gown that was tastefully elegant and understated. He watched her mouth curve into an easy smile, a smile as though expressing complete confidence that she could handle any man breathing.

She smiled heartily. "I know, darling, you have always loved all French – literature, art, language, etiquette, everything. I can imagine how well you speak French now."

"Very well, my love, my Ellen, my Elaine."

"Again Elaine," she said with a yearnful smile. "In Sir Thomas Malory's _Le Morte D'Arthur (The Death of Arthur)_ Dame Elaine was a tragic heroine who died as she was grieving because Sir Lancelot was unable to return her love."

"These romance tales about King Arthur, Guinevere, Lancelot, and the Knights of the Round Table have always been my favorite piece of work in English literature," Philippe commented. He glanced at her, his black eyes revealing a feeling of guilt. "I see that you are not pleased how I am calling you - Elaine. Earlier you used to like it. I can stop if you want, my love."

"No, I like it. You have been calling me so since early childhood," she answered passionately. "I like almost everything you say or do." She paused and looked at him. "Philippe, I still have one book, your gift."

"Which book?"

Ellen laughed at him. "I mean _Le Morte D'Arthur (The Death of Arthur)._ Recall that you gave it to me when we met last time, several years ago."

"I remember," he said.

Ellen smiled lamentably. "Besides, I am indeed like Dame Elaine – my life is a tragic coincidence because we cannot be together. But if Elaine died because Sir Lancelot was unable to return her love, I am dying because we cannot be together. I am dying from loneliness. I am always emotionally dead when I am not with you."

"I feel dead without you," Philippe swore. "_Je t'aime. Tu es ma joie de vivre. Amour de ma vie. Mon amour pour toi est éternel."_

"_I love you. You are the joy of my life. You are my dear love. I will always love you_," Ellen translated.

"You see." He smiled good-naturedly. "You know French."

"I still remember what my mother Solange taught me. You know I had so many private French tutors. But I bet I don't know French as well as you know. And your pronunciation is brilliant, in contrast to mine. I cannot practice French here." Ellen looked frustrated.

"Ellen, darling, I want you to consider one opportunity."

She looked at him interrogatively. "What do you mean, Philippe?"

"The war is dangerous, and the outcome is clear. It is just a matter of time. I think it is rational for you to leave the Confederacy."

"What?" she asked. She rose to her feet from the chair. "What did you say?"

He drew a finger through his thick jet-black hair. "I mean what you hear."

"You want me to run away with you, don't you?" she questioned. She raised her voice to counter him. "Despite all my love for you, I will never do it! I cannot! I am a married respectable woman and I cannot change this circumstance! I cannot disgrace us all! Besides, my husband Gerald loves me, and I respect him. I am married in the eyes of God! You should remember it."

"Don't remind, please. I remember."

"I am not so sure."

"Rest assured, darling, I remember. I am not asking you to run away with me, although I am dreaming about it day in and day out. I know you too well. I know how decent and respectable you are. I know your high moral foundations. Whether you believe in it or not, I will never even make a single attempt to ask you to breach and neglect them with the consequences when you will be disgraced. Otherwise I will hate and despise myself. Otherwise I won't respect myself."

"But when you are close to me, my moral ascendancy turns into moral decadence. I am an adulteress."

He stared at her in confusion. "Ellen, it is not an adultery. It is love."

"Philippe, I am an adulteress. If somebody knows what I do with you in private when you come to the States, I will be disgraced! In this case I will taste ostracism, shame, and exile!" she cried out. "I am an adulteress!" Her ears rang with the word – an adulteress. Her pulse throbbed in her neck and her wrists and her chest. Philippe remarked it.

"I don't agree," he said calmly. He looked as serene as though they were discussing a ball or a party. "Besides, nobody will know, my love."

"You also are an adulterer, _Philippe Robillard_ or _Philippe Justin Robillard-Arden_, _8th Duke of Aylesbury_, whoever you are."

His black eyes narrowed slightly, even as a smile tipped the corners of his mouth. "I don't care. I love you, my dear sweet Ellen. I love you most of all in this life, my Elaine."

"Philippe, you also love your children, not only me."

"Yes, I love them very much, but I also love you."

"For you an adultery means nothing," she spat.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I guess you had many mistresses. I know that you are an adulterer not only with me. I know you have never been faithful to your wife Lady Georgette."

Philippe took a deep breath that seemed to envelop his entire body. Then he began to speak himself out in a rush. "It is true, Ellen. However, take into account that in the beginning I was faithful to my wife, my dear Lady Georgette, although I didn't love her."

"Philippe, you are even referring to her as Lady Georgette!" Ellen exclaimed.

Philippe inhaled and exhaled. "I cannot refer to my wife personally. We are treating each other as strangers, always calling each other "your Grace". It cannot be otherwise in the marriage, which resemblances utter hell for me and, probably, even for her."

"I am very sorry, Philippe."

Philippe slid his eyes shut for an instance. "Lady Georgette made me unfaithful on the back of her countless lover affairs and scandals. Many times she was discovered with a man in the bedroom after a ball, a charity bazaar, an art event, or a card-party. In fact, she is still discovered like it happened six months ago, and the scandal was a disaster for the family. In her early youth, Georgette was especially known in the ton of England for her intimate escapades in _Vauxhall Gardens _at the masked balls, and for her this place was indeed like a pleasure garden, a carnival of pleasure with numerous disguised men."

"It is disgusting..." Her voice quivered to a halt.

"Yes, it is," Philippe agreed. A slight tremor went through his shoulders. He shut his eyes. "Lady Georgette had disgraced me as a husband several times before I became an unfaithful husband and took my first mistress. Undoubtedly, in London and Paris she is not the only woman who loves wicked intimacy so much. I don't know whether it is madness or sickness of another nature, but both these words are applicable to describe her love of pleasurable encounters with different men, not one man," he paused. His voice underscored the last words. "Ellen, Lady Georgette told me many years ago that we must have had many children, preferably male, because the Arden family didn't have young male heirs, except for me, and we had to do everything possible in order to eliminate a threat of the title turning extinct in the future. However, to have my blood children and hence legal heirs, I had to take her with me to British India in order to be sure that the child she had conceived was mine. She hated it, but she obeyed at least in that. Probably, you remember that my eldest daughter isn't mine by blood, but for me she is a daughter."

Ellen's heart wrenched for Philippe. "I remember, darling. I am so sorry… I am so sorry…"

"Ellen, it is true that I had many women, but I loved nobody, save the beautiful dark brown-eyed Robillard cousin. You know better than somebody else that I had to marry _Georgette Anne Arden_ in order to change my name and to stay alive. I was a sixteen-year-old boy who didn't want to die. I desperately wanted to live and I was frightened of death. Is it so criminal to want to live, Ellen? If I used the name of Philippe Robillard somewhere in England or France or anywhere else, I could have been discovered, deported back to the Confederacy, arrested, and sentenced to death. And you know to whom we are obliged to thank for this great honor and ruining my life," Philippe replied seriously. He didn't blink, but his voice turned serious. He glanced in her eyes. "Do you want me to leave you and never see you again? If you want, you should only ask. I will submit to your request, my dear Elaine."

His words stole across her heart. She wanted to cry, and tears were oozing her eyes. "I don't want you to leave. I love you."

"Then don't talk about an adultery," Philippe said. "It is just too painful to realize that you legally belong to another man. I would love to marry you even as the Duke of Aylesbury, but I cannot. We both are married. Even if you were free for whatever reason and I was still married to Lady Georgette, I would divorce her and marry you."

"Divorce Lady Georgette?" she asked dubiously.

"I would divorce her and marry you," he repeated.

"But isn't a divorce nearly impossible in England?"

"It is very difficult," Philippe confirmed. "But I have enough connections in the Parliament. They would allow me to get official divorce if I wished it to happen. I have very plausible reasons for divorce, and the entire ton of England knows it."

"Oh, darling," Ellen gasped.

"Let's leave this topic. It is unpleasant."

Ellen glanced at him with longing and hunger through tear-filled eyes. She brushed the wetness away from her eyelids with her palms. As usual, she began to want him. His proximity always impacted him in that way. She realized that what she felt racing through her body was strong desire and hunger and passion. She felt a little disconcerted as she hadn't experienced such a fierce desire since their last intimate encounter three and a half years ago. Only God knew how Ellen loved and worshiped Philippe, how she cherished and treasured each memory about him. Even her skin flushed, burning with desire. She was burning inside. She was again on the verge of an adultery, on the verge of madness as she was so close to him.

As Ellen started speaking, her voice sounded hoarse. "Then why did you offer me to leave the South?"

"I said it because I wanted to propose you to flee the States to our French relatives."

"In Paris?" Her tears dried.

"In Paris," he nodded.

"In Paris," she echoed thoughtfully.

"Ellen, I am not asking you to come to London with me and to leave your husband. I didn't offer you to live in London or in Paris as my mistress. I merely suggested that you can join your French relatives in Paris. You can live at Jean-Baptiste's house in Paris or at the house owned by anybody of the Robillards if you prefer not to stay at my house, although I have a luxurious mansion on _Rue des Tournelles _in the aristocratic district_ Le Marais_. It is a mansion in the Baroque style located on a quiet street just behind the beautiful _Place des Vosges_. There are a lot of the Robillards, highbred, well-educated, intelligent, smart, kind, and hospitable. They will be happy to accept you and your family. It is very dangerous to stay here, in the South," he explained. "Don't you understand it?"

She shook her head in negative response. "I understand, but I cannot leave Gerald here and escape to France with my children. It is the ties of moral duty to stay with my husband, whether I love him or not."

"You can go with your husband. Take all your family and relocate at least for a while. Then wait and see what happens here. Anyway, your husband is not fighting in the battles."

Ellen shook her head again. "He is not fighting, but he will never leave Tara."

He smiled, and it wasn't a sort of her favorite smile among his familiar smiles. It was a mocking smile. "I am sorry I forgot about the Irish love of the land."

"Philippe, don't be nasty," she warned. "Otherwise I will leave right now and you will never see me again."

His smile was gone. Mockery in his black eyes was changed for longing. "I am sorry, darling."

Ellen looked away. "It is fine," she babbled. "I cannot leave my husband here. I know he will never leave the South. In addition, he is a patriot, and, despite not fighting, he will stay here."

"You are completely sure? Is it your final decision?"

She turned her head to him. The dark brown eyes flashed with determination. "Absolutely."

"Well then," he replied calmly, drawling the words. "I daresay that in this case you should be very careful."

"And we are careful, darling. Please believe me."

He stared at her. He knew that all objections were in vain. He had to accept her decision, although he thought that it was an incorrect decision. "I am going away to India and then Brunei for indefinite time. It may be rather dangerous."

"Where is Brunei?"

"It is a sovereign state located on the north coast of the island of Borneo, in Southeast Asia. The British Crown aims at annexing Brunei or at least controlling over its external affairs, but there is great rebellion in the region. I have to go there."

Ellen looked at him seriously. "Philippe, please be careful in your trip. I know how dangerous your missions are."

"I will be fine, darling." Philippe drew in a fortifying breath and smiled warmly at her. "I want to be sure you will be fine here. Do you need something from me? How can I help you?"

"I need nothing, except for your smile," she said gently, without any hesitation.

"Sweetheart, I know," he said demurely. "Nevertheless, there is the war and soon you will be pressed with shortage of money and things, including food. A war for a weak country is almost always connected with illnesses, starvation, and various shortages," he paused. He didn't say death, although he was thinking about it. He was very worried about her.

"I am fine, darling. We are fine," she assured.

"I will leave money for you. Don't say no because I won't tolerate it. You will need much money as the prices for food and other things will skyrocket soon. I can imagine how much money speculators will earn on blockade running."

"Fine," she declared after a short pause. "I may take some."

"Thank you, darling." Relief washed over him as at least she agreed to take his money. He had a lot, and he won't spend it in his lifetime. Then his heart lurched, then stopped for a moment. Dear God, how vulnerable he became at the mere thought of her starving or having sickness during the war. He had to do everything to avoid it. "I will do everything to help you." He looked at her, and he couldn't conceal the longing in his black yes.

He turned around and opened his bag. He extracted the black velvet purse and opened it. He counted the money and gave it to her in cash, both notes and gold coins, around ten thousand dollars.

"Darling, it is too much," she stated in a low voice.

"It is normal. I prepared it for you in advance."

"What will I say to Gerald? How will I explain who gave to me so much money?"

"Ellen, just hide the money and don't say to anybody you have it. Start using it when you are out of your husband's money, which will happen quite soon, I presume. Consider it to be a gift from the French Robillards. If not for them, I would never have money and I would never be alive now."

A pause followed. They stared at each other. And then she spoke. "I know, Philippe. Our relatives from France saved you. Each time I remember what my father did to you and how he destroyed our hopes for future happy life together, I feel cornered. I feel great pain tearing my heart apart. I can confess about it only to you because never had anybody understood me as well as you do."

"Yes." His voice turned very low, lower than half whisper. The pain in his heart was too agonizing. Nothing and nobody could ease pain in his heart and soul, nothing and nobody, excluding his Ellen, his Elaine as he had called her waggishly since nearly childhood. "I can be frank only with you and a few more people."

"I will never forgive my father," she said confidently, her dark brown eyes flashed in anger. "But we cannot change what happened."

"We cannot," he echoed. "Perhaps it is simply pride. But when we are forced to do degrading things, the heart swells with hatred and pride. I am sorry, but I mean your father."

"I understand, darling." Black lashes lifted slowly to reveal the intense fire burning in her eyes. "But my father has no heart, no conscience, no fear, no love, no pity, and no shame."

"I don't want to talk about him. Not now," he whispered.

Philippe reached out and took her hand, drawing her to him. She drifted near, until she was close enough to kiss. Close enough for him to see the dark brown of her eyes, widening as he turned her hand over, her palm up. Nobody saw them at that moment. They were alone. They had time alone - only today and only for each other.

"There is something I have wanted to do for a long time. I have dreamed about it since I disembarked the ship in Charleston," he said. His voice came out close to a half whisper. It vibrated in his chest.

"Oh?" She parted her lips.

Philippe could feel her breathing from that word against his nose. "Don't even think of arguing. I will do it in either case."

"I won't object." Her voice was muffled as desire flooded her, pure and carnal.

"Where is your husband?" he whispered in her lips.

"Gerald is not at Tara. He urgently went to Atlanta as he needed to meet Scarlett... erm..." She suddenly trailed off.

"What, sweetheart?"

"Gerald will be absent for several days." Being the only sound in the still air between them, his warm breath caressed her face.

"Then shall we?" Philippe asked timidly. He smiled with a maudlin, nostalgic smile. "Say now. Otherwise I will go mad," he paused, his heart pounding ferociously. "I want to feel alive. I want to be with you."

After an audible pause, she gave to him an expectant look. "Yes," she spoke in a whisper.

"Do we have more time now?"

"Yes, we do," she breathed near his lips.

"Just you are the best part of me, Ellen. Just promise me one thing. If something bad happens or somebody ever hurts you, if your life turns into a nightmare, you will let me know. I have to know even if we are not supposed to be together," he murmured.

Ellen's lips were opened, an impossible, inviting fraction. Neither she nor he could resist their urgent need to feel and taste each other. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him. She came easily to him as she wished it as much as he wished it. Her hands slid down his large frame. He was so warm and so close, and she wanted him. Everything - all thoughts of cruel fate, unhappiness, their long separation, and all the distant past - disappeared. Even all thoughts of an adultery, guilt and shame faded away. At that moment, for him there was nothing but her - her kiss, her caress, her breathy gasp of pleasure. The same was for her.

Philippe slowed the kiss so that he could slide his fingers up her waist, up the fabric of her dress to cup her breast. In the beginning her gown remained fastened in the front, but he undid a button. Then another. Then another one. Then one more. He also unfastened several of his buttons from the collar. She ran her hands along his chest, urging him on. He, in turn, loosened the laces of her corset and slipped his thumb under the fabric.

God, Philippe wanted her. He wanted to wring more sounds from her and lose himself in her pleasure - and his own. He wanted to lose himself in her flashing eyes. He slid her loosened stays down. If it was magic, that magic was marvelous. Those fabulous sensations of her proximity drained him until he was bone-weary, until all that was left was a deep feeling of comfort and desire to belong to someone else – to Ellen, his Ellen, his Elaine if only for a few moments with her. She was sensitive, so sensitive and responsive to his touch and to his kisses that he was quickly half mad with passion. Her whole body arched against his. Her hand clenched around his arm. They were happy together – they loved each other as though there had been no long years - years of unhappiness, longing, and suffering, years of separation and loneliness.

Philippe kissed her. Ellen kissed him back, and he forgot. He forgot everything in the world except the heady feel of her hands, resting against his chest. Slowly, they made their way to a sofa. He helped her to undress and put her body down on the sofa. Then he quickly undressed himself. Although Ellen was quite free with him in their endearments and lovemaking – few limits for them existed as she loved him, she still didn't feel it suitable when a woman undressed a man. He didn't even ask her to try – he cherished her limits and didn't breach them. They undressed in silence, each knowing that the most sacred rituals should be performed naked. Ellen knew it very well, unlike other Southern women who knew nothing in lovemaking that was perceived by Philippe as an art of love and pleasure, in contrast to many other Southern men who considered it to be only a method of conceiving a child. When they were very young, Philippe taught Ellen an art of lovemaking, and they had loved each other throughout many nights at the Pierre's pink house in Savannah before Philippe's forced departure to New Orleans.

"Whoever you are – _Philippe Robillard _or_ Philippe Julien Louis de Robillard de Bréveaux _or_ Philippe Justin Robillard-Arden, 8th Duke of Aylesbury_, I will always love you. _Tu es mon amour (You are my love)_," Ellen whispered into his lips.

"_Mon seul bonheur et de joie, mon seul amour (My only happiness and joy, my only love)_," Philippe whispered.

Philippe's kisses and endearments were familiar but new for Ellen. Philippe had the same feeling. At present their endearments were more assertive and harder, more passionate and more desperate, more delicate and more caressing. Now their endearments were all-pervading and penetrating not only to their hearts and souls, but also connecting them together in the eternal life and in the universe.

Ellen's lips parted and their tongues touched, which was a more penetrating sensation, more intimate and more delighting than it used to be in their previous encounters. Philippe deepened the kiss in her lips. Then his lips moved to her throat. Then he drew his palms downward to caress her heart and cupped her shoulders and then breasts. His body was lean and hard, exuding strength and power. He knew she was enjoying his touches. He set his hands on her hips and pulled Ellen close, and she didn't resist. She also wanted him madly. She was now his, and nothing else mattered. She nestled against him, sighing deep in her throat. He kissed her until the rumble of a cart intruded on the quiet fog shielding their tryst. He was caressing her body until she was breathless with anticipation and crying out from pleasure. She did the same for Philippe in response.

As Philippe kissed her and as he deepened the kiss more and more, they completely forgot about reality. Gerald O'Hara, Mammy, the Yankees, Pierre Robillard, Georgette Anne Robillard-Arden, and everybody and everything were forgotten. Only Philippe Robillard and Ellen Robillard existed: only Philippe was alive in Ellen's heart and only Ellen was alive in Philippe's heart. Only Philippe and Ellen Robillard and their love for each other remained, love kind and unconditional, vehement and serene, all-encompassing and forgiving. Though their love was broken into shatters many years ago, it rose from ashes and grew to the same fathomless, miraculous, magic feeling of eternal love they felt for each other in their early youth. Ellen and Philippe's hearts were swelling with love and passion, which were now on a higher level, closer to eternity and universe and unearthly peace and Heaven.

The Duke of Aylesbury came to the bed and sat on the edge, then sank back on the pillow. He was now lying on his large lonely bed in _Louis XV style_ with curtains, canopy, and coverlet, all glittering with silver lace, pearls, and gold embroidery. He loved extravagance and fancifulness of baroque and rococo styles, and many of his mansions were furnished in either in _Louis XV style _or _Louis XVI style. _Today was the memorial anniversary for Aylesbury – today was the day of Philippe Robillard's death or the day of his official death. He could never forget about it. The whole evening the memories were overcoming him, and new and new strong, monstrous tides of pain and heartache slashed through him. It was always so on that terrible, memorable day and it will always be so. A knock at the door returned him to reality.

Aylebsury sighed heavily. "You may come in," he said.

* * *

_This chapter tells you more about Philippe and Ellen. Hope you like it. I thought it was rather dramatic, romantic, and sensual. I tried to portray a tragic, strong, undying, romantic and physical love between Ellen and Philippe._

_I know how proper Ellen was known from the original GWTW, but was it so if she loved Philippe till her dying day? If Philippe turned out to be alive, would she be able to withstand his passion and reject his love when she loved him madly? I assume that if they met, it was very unlikely for her and she could surrender._

_Reviews are appreciated. Thank you._


	63. Chapter 63

**Chapter 63**

**Evening of reminiscence for the Duke of Aylesbury**

"_Please come in_," the Duke of Aylesbury repeated. Then he said in Germain: "_Bitte kommen Sie in_."

A housekeeper Ermelinda, a middle-aged Austrian woman, entered the room. She paused at the doorway and glanced at Aylesbury who was lying on the bed. "_Euer Erlaucht, haben Sie ein Abendessen im Erdgeschoss? (Your Grace, will you have a dinner downstairs?)_"

"_Ich werde das Abendessen später, als mein Freund James kommt (I will have dinner later when my friend James comes)_," he responded.

"_Euer Erlaucht, wie kann ich Ihnen dienen jetzt? __(Your Grace, how can I serve you now_?)" Ermelinda asked. "_Herr Effingham était très inquiet pour toi (Lord Effingham was very worried about you)._"

Aylesbury cast a grateful eye at her. "_Danke, Ermelinda. Mir geht es gut. Sie können jetzt gehen. (Thank you, Ermelinda. I am fine. __You may leave now)._"

"_Euer Erlaucht (Your Grace)_." She bowed and then left.

As a housekeeper left the room, the Duke of Aylesbury was again abstracted in his thoughts. It was an evening of reminiscence for him. He couldn't help himself and remembered his only true love - Ellen. Philippe's mind flashed on the haunting memory of Ellen in his arms. He retained a clear memory of young Ellen and Philippe, vowing their eternal love, swearing to each other that never would they part, no matter what came between them - not even death itself. But in this life Pierre Robillard's meanness, atrocity, fierceness, and deceitfulness had parted them. Later death also had parted them – Ellen died. Philippe again felt a surge of tears sting his nose, and his jaw flexed with the force it took to fight them back.

Breathing deeply, Philippe slowly eased the suffocating misery. Finally, he sighed. He took miniature of his beloved Ellen into his right hand and shut his eyes. He pressed the miniature to his heart and whispered into silence: "My sweet love, my only love, my Ellen, my Elaine, I will always love you."

In the turbulent depths the Duke of Aylesbury saw all the years, all the memories, all the love they had shared. His mind again turned to the night they spent together when he visited her at Tara in May 1862. On that night Philippe wanted her madly, and he took her three times. She welcomed his desire. At that enchanting night, all their senses and thoughts were attuned to each other. After a long separation, their feelings were especially acute and sensuous. As Philippe leaned over Ellen and took in her beauty, she lifted her head and kissed him in his lips. At that moment she made him feel like a man - just a man, not a burdened English aristocrat and a special ambassador of the British Crown in British India who was responsible for the fate of British supremacy in the region. It was Philippe's last night with Ellen Robillard, the only true love in his life. He will remember that night for the rest of his life.

Philippe and Ellen were lying in each other's arms for a full hour, his arms wrapped around her waist, her head on his chest. Their eyes got accustomed to the darkness, and bright moonlight, filtering through the darkness of the room, helped them see each other rather well, especially their faces. They were kissing each other and whispering love words as if they were the only people in the world. When Ellen shut her eyes for an instance, he studied her face intently and took in her beauty, so he could remember forever what she looked like on that special day.

"Ellen," Philippe murmured. "Oh, Ellen, my Elaine, it was marvelous."

Ellen opened her eyes and looked up at him. "And if you must know, you are kissing like the devil." She blushed, the moonlight faintly exposing her embarrassment to his faultless perusal.

"Really?"

She blushed even more. "Yes."

"Please don't blush. Not in front of me, my Elaine." Lowering his gaze, he laughed open-heartedly. "My love, I want you, and you want me. Probably, it is horribly wrong of me. Probably, it is a sin. Probably, what we are doing is the adultery. But I don't care."

"It is a sin." She sighed. However, there was a sleepy and content smile on her face. "We are committing a sin. I cannot stop thinking how wicked it is and what risk we are taking. But it is too late to back out. When you are so close to me, I forget everything. I just love you so much."

"The same happens with me, darling," Philippe murmured kissed her throat. Feeling her press herself deeper into his arms, he was kissing her with lingering gentleness, his lips worshiping the feel of her soft skin. "_Ton amour est aussi précieux que l'or (Your love is more precious than gold)._"

Her voice was half whisper. "You have changed since we were together for the first time."

He raised up onto an elbow and looked at her. She was a dim silhouette in the moonlight. "Jesus Christ! Really?"

"Yes, indeed."

His brows curved in a crescent. "When how did I change? Am I getting old?"

"Hardly old." Ellen laughed sprightly. "You have undergone a complete metamorphosis. You are a mature man now, too handsome and attractive. You have a man's face now. You are boldly masculine and dangerous. Everything about you is sculpted and hard," she said and paused. Her cheekbones blushed. "You are very handsome. The women in the ton should be inflamed with love for you."

Philippe laughed back merely. "And you haven't changed much. I will always know you in the crowd. Even if I never see you again, I will never forget you." The last words turned out to be truth, and it was tormenting, cruel reality. "I kissed you so many times in my dreams."

"Please, don't be so improper! At times you overstep the boundaries, my darling!"

He smiled unashamedly. "It means that we can do it, but not talk?"

Ellen gave a half shrug to him. "A kind of that."

"Interesting opinion, my love."

Then a pause followed. Ellen and Philippe continued lying in each other's arms, but nobody dared to speak. Then Ellen called him: "Philippe…"

He was searching her eyes, but she was keeping them shut. "Yes, Ellen."

"Philippe…" Her voice coerced into silence.

Philippe gently kissed her temple. "What did you want to say?"

"Philippe…" Her eyes flung open, and she glanced up at him with intensive gaze. "I know you had been with many women…" Her voice halted. Her cheeks were flushing.

"Ellen, sweetheart, please don't lose sight of what you wanted to say," he invocated.

Philippe didn't move and only stared at her. She reached out and touched his elbow. Her finger traced down his arm to his wrist. Then she clasped his hot palm against hers and flattened his hand against the smooth surface of her neck. She shut her eyes again and said: "Do you have other children?"

He raised his free hand to her cheek. "What do you mean, Ellen?"

"I mean… erm… I mean…" Ellen's face turned crimson.

"My love, do you want to ask me whether I have the children born out of wedlock?"

"Yes, yes," she confirmed nervously.

"No," Philippe professed without any hesitation.

"No?"

"No," he asserted. "Although I was with many women, I know for sure that nobody of them gave birth to my child, with the exception of my wife Lady Georgette."

"How do you know?"

Philippe laughed unfeignedly and looked down at her dim silhouette. There was lightness about his expression. "My sweet Elaine, I am no longer a young boy who doesn't know how to prevent pregnancy. Now I know many things I didn't know in early youth. I have always been very cautious with women. It is the absolute truth like the fact that I have never been with any innocent girl, excluding you, Ellen."

"Oh!" Ellen felt his hands in her hair, his fingers gently massaging her scalp and then raising handfuls of her long tresses so he could bury his face in them.

"Darling, if you are anxious that I can impregnate you, then you shouldn't be alarmed. I bet you didn't conceive when we were together several years ago."

Her cheeks were now as red as fresh apples. "No, I wasn't pregnant."

"I know. And you won't find yourself in a family way now."

She jabbed a finger into his chest. "Thank you, Philippe."

He buried his face into her hair. "I am not a fool and a devil-may-carish man. I would despise myself if I had any illegitimate children and forgot about them. No child can be called a bastard, even if he or she was born out of wedlock. A child is a child - it is a new life given by God and nobody can ever throw discredit on it. I would scorn myself if I took a young helpless innocent girl as my mistress just because she offered herself to me in order to get my money. Innocence should be a sort of treasure for any woman."

Ellen leaned closer and gazed deep into his shadowed eyes. "I know that you are not one of these disgusting men. You are different – you are honorable." Then she averted her eyes.

His voice was so tender, so affectionate that it took all her breath away. "I cannot say that I have never wanted to have a child with you. A child with you will be a consolation and a treasure for me, especially given that we cannot be together."

"Oh, Philippe," Ellen moaned. She closed her eyes. "How I hate my father."

"Don't mention him now. Don't ruin these magnificent minutes," he implored.

"You don't understand…" Ellen whimpered. Her eyes were half shut. Her face grimaced as though in pain.

Philippe glanced at her in uncertainty. "Darling, I may want to have a child with you, but I will never do something deliberate to leave you with my child. I will never create difficulties for you, at least deliberately."

"I know, darling, I know," she murmured.

"God," he whispered, tracing the contours of her breasts with one long finger. "You have no idea how many times I have fantasized about this. I prayed to God I have another chance to meet you and to kiss you and to make love to you."

Ellen felt the muscles of his flat stomach clench beneath her light exploration, and it made her light-headed with desire. "Philippe, I love you…" she whispered.

"Today you are even more passionate than I dreamed," he said. "The smallest touches. The way you move against me. Oh, Lord, Ellen. I am going mad."

Philippe kissed her again, tongue and lips hot against hers. His hands slid up her waist, sliding over her chest. She drank him in, as tipsy on his taste as he appeared to be on hers. He took her for the second time and then for the third time. These times were harder and less delicate, but more passionate. They ascended to the Heavens, wrapped tight around each other as their bodies strained together, both fighting against the moment when reality would claim their starved senses, both reluctant to let the moment of passionate surrender go. Wave after wave pulsed through them. "Oh, Ellen" or "my Ellen" or "my Elaine," he whispered into her lips again and again. "Philippe" or "my Philippe," she murmured, and these words on her lips seemed more intimate and more precious than the physical connection he had shared with any other women in the world. She gasped so hard she could have been sobbing. Precious, pleasurable satisfaction also gripped him.

"Philippe," she purred.

"Oh, God, Ellen, I love you so much," he groaned. He bent his head and stared at her, her face on his chest. "Do you regret this night?"

The dark brown eyes locked with Philippe's extremely dark brown, almost black. "No, no," she drawled.

His black eyes slid closed with a moan. "And neither do I."

"I am an adulteress! After you are gone, I will be mad with guilt and shame. They will be eating my heart."

"Ellen, we love each other."

Ellen sighed heavily. "I will be not myself for many days. Last time, three and a half years ago, I couldn't look at myself in the mirror because of guilt and shame for a long time. I tried to appease myself that we love each other. But I am married to Gerald, and he loves me. Now it will happen again. It will be difficult for me to look into Gerald's blue eyes when he comes back to Tara from Atlanta."

Philippe glanced at her seriously. His voice turned thorny. "Ellen, when we met each other for the first time after a long separation in the aftermath of my presumable death, you could have told me that we wouldn't have intimacy. But you didn't."

The dark brown eyes flashed in irritation. "Philippe, you came to me in six years after I had been announced that you had died in New Orleans. And I got married to Gerald. And then in 1850 I spontaneously received a note from you. You notified me that you had wished to meet with me in Charleston. You were lucky that at that time I was visiting my sisters there without Gerald."

"I knew that you were in Charleston without Gerald."

"Oh, your Grace," Ellen grinned. "I could have guessed that your agents had tracked me down."

"I trust so," he stated. "And I told you the whole story what had happened with me and who had done that to us – your father Pierre. I still remember how shocked you had been."

"It couldn't be otherwise, Philippe." Ellen nodded. "We were talking in your room number. We were drinking. We drank a bottle of a good French wine you ordered. And then you seduced me."

He pressed her to his chest more tightly. "You weren't resistant, darling."

"Philippe, you seduced me," she repeated.

Her face turned toward him, and in the dim moonlight he studied her profile. "But you didn't protest."

"I was drunk. I was shocked. I was distressed after I had learnt the truth. I was in despair."

"You were in confusion and in abashment," he added.

"Exactly."

"And you wanted me as badly as I wanted you."

Ellen raised her eyes to him. "Philippe! Don't talk scandalously!"

Philippe stared at her with intensity that frightened her when he finally stated softly: "Ten minutes ago we were making love to each other, and now you are saying that I am talking scandalously." He couldn't help it and laughed. Then he kissed her forehead. "It seems to me I don't understand women, my love."

"If we are doing it, don't make an emphasis on it!"

"_Un homme a le choix entre aimer les femmes et les comprendre (A man is given the choice between loving women and understanding them),_" Philippe quoted.

"Who said that?"

"_Ninon de Lenclo_."

"My God, Philippe! I have always known that you a connoisseur of French literature, but now I see that you are also a connoisseur of French… erm... courtesans from the distant past," Ellen smirked.

"_Ninon de Lenclo_ was also a patron of arts and a French author, darling. In France her name is synonymous with wit and beauty."

"I know about it. But don't try to distract me! You are the first one who seduced me!"

"I don't refute this. But it was easy. You wanted me as much as I wanted you."

"Good Heavens! What shall I do now? Gerald is coming from Atlanta soon! I cannot face him! I will try to avoid him! Guilt has started to devour me. Gerald loves me, and I have always respected him."

"But you never loved him," he finished.

"Yes," she uttered. "But it doesn't matter. He is my husband in the eyes of God! I am not faithful to him! I am an adulteress."

"The more you think about that, the worse it is for you," he said dryly. "Then we met for the second time." He paused, reminiscing. "Let me remember when it happened." He stopped again, his brain working. "It was in 1854. At that time I offered you to choose whether you wished to meet periodically. Remember that you agreed, and I didn't pressure you. And in both cases we had intimacy and you were a quite wishful participant, my love."

"I know, Philippe," Ellen agreed, her eyes fireless.

"Today I also offered to leave, but you didn't allow me."

"Don't offer excuses. It is I, not you, must feel guilt because Gerald loves and respects me and I am betraying him."

"Ellen, darling, I am sorry. Gerald O'Hara can be a good man, but you don't love him and will never love. Try not to think about it. You deserve some happiness in your life. You don't have much joy here at Tara, excluding your children. You are saying that you are dead when I am not with you, but now you are alive. We should treasure these short moments together."

"I am enjoying. I said I don't regret that we had this night."

Philippe kissed her left ear. "And then you started the topic of your adultery and guilt."

"Yes."

"Very well," Philippe said in a deeper voice. "However, we have a plausible excuse for us - our circumstances are rather tragic, my love."

"They are tragic," she assumed.

"Anyway, we have a right to have few moments together, even if we are not married. I know that what we are doing is not good relative to Gerald O'Hara, but I am not going to call our relations the adultery because I am madly in love with you, my Ellen, my Elaine."

Her dark eyes fluttered as guilt flushed her cheeks. "Philippe, I understand us, but I still feel as though I was a betrayer."

"Try not to think about it."

"It is difficult," Ellen complained. "My heart is torn between my duty – Gerald - and my feelings and my true love - you, Philippe."

"Darling, I comprehend. If you want, I will never come to the States again."

"No!" she cried out in a single breath.

"In this case, we must assure that nobody will ever know about us. I promise you."

"I believe you, Philippe. You have always been so caring, so protective of me. Darling, I know that you didn't push me to these relations. When you are close to me, I cannot behave otherwise."

"The same with me," Philippe replied. "_L'amour est une passion qui ne se soumet à rien, et à qui, au contraire, toutes choses se soumettent (Love is a passion which does not submit to anything, and that, on the contrary, all things submit_)," he quoted in French.

"Who said this? _Mademoiselle Madeleine de Scudery_?"

He shook his head in agreement. "_Sapho_."

"Philippe, my love, you didn't change. You have loved _Sapho's _literature since you turned thirteen."

Philippe gave an enigmatic smile to her. "Yes, it is so."

"You have always been so romantic."

He smiled. "It is true."

"I am sure that European beau monde will never believe in it."

"Nobody will believe, my love. The ton of England and the high society of Europe think that I am a dispassionate, cold man. They call me _dispassionate Boreas_."

Ellen struggled up onto her elbows and kissed him. Then she broke the kiss. "Oh, that is nonsense!" she contradicted with a smile. "With me you are so different."

Philippe took possession of her mouth. Then he broke the kiss. "As you are with me. With me you are alive. And I am also not as cold the cold north wind Boreas," he whispered.

"It is so." She laughed seductively. And then her eyes turned fearful and vacant as though the light went out of her. She was looking at him and didn't see him. She murmured: "You would hate me one day, Philippe."

He didn't answer. Instead, he jerked his hand free and pulled back. "You were right about one thing."

Ellen's eyes flew to his face. "Pardon?"

"I can probably hate you."

Ellen felt as though her beating heart had been ripped out of her chest. A tremor assaulted her spine. "Had you ever hated me?"

"_Les frontières entre la haine et l'amour sont plus subtiles. Mon Elaine, personne ne sait quand nous pourrons franchir les frontières. Parfois nous nous sentons quelque chose et ensuite l'oublier. À certains moments, nous commençons à la haine et puis nous nous souvenons que nous avons aimé cette personne. Si votre amour est sincère, forte et pure, alors l'amour gagnera toujours (Boundaries between hate and love are over-subtle. __My Elaine, nobody knows when we can overstep the boundaries. At times we feel something and then forget it. At times we begin to hate and then we remember that we loved this person. If your love is genuine, strong, and pure, then love will always win)_," Philippe said.

Ellen cast an uncertain look at him. She didn't understand where their conversation was going. Her Philippe sounded so fatalistic. "Your French is great, but I don't appreciate it now."

"My love, my Elaine," he purred. "It is always easier for me to talk about philosophical and romantic things in French. French is a language of love."

Ellen stared at him in pained confusion. "Philippe, when did you hate me?"

"There was a moment in the past when I was sure that I had hated you."

"Please tell me."

Philippe hesitated. As he hugged her, he felt her increased heartbeat and gazed down at her, a strange smile curling his lips. He didn't want to raise that topic. It was too painful for him. Finally, he said: "I thought that I had hated you when I had learnt that you had got married to Gerald O'Hara so quickly after my hypothetic death."

"Oh, Philippe. Oh, Philippe."

"I hated you because I thought that you had betrayed me. I didn't understand why you had become his wife and hadn't mourned for me. I thought you had never loved me as much as I had loved you," Philippe explained. He said the truth. His voice was edged with tension and bitterness.

"Oh, God!" she whispered. She cupped her own face with her hands. It was an act of despair. "You knew when I married him?"

"Yes."

"God Almighty!" Ellen cried out. There were tears in the corners of her eyes.

"After _Jean-Baptiste Edmond Alexandre de Robillard,_ _13th Count de Bréveaux_, took me away from New Orleans, I intended to find you and take you to France with me. I was very sick and my health was deteriorating day by day after what I had had to endure in New Orleans. Nevertheless, I wanted to come to you. I wanted to look into your beautiful eyes and to kiss you. However, Jean-Baptiste told me that you had got married to Gerald O'Hara in less than a month after the announcement of my death. I was in rage. Venom was accumulating in my blood, poisoning me. Anger at you flickered to life in my bruised heart. I was half mad, half conscious. At first I thought that Pierre Robillard had made you accept Gerald's proposal, but later we learnt that Pierre had been against your marriage to Gerald. As a result, I blamed you. I felt as though you had betrayed me."

She raised tear-filled dark brown eyes to him. "And you still wanted to see me?"

"Yes," Philippe nodded. "Notwithstanding the urgent necessity to leave the Confederacy with Jean-Baptiste and his wife Adelaide, as they prepared new documents for me, I persuaded them to call on you at Tara. Jean-Baptiste was opposed to this idea, but I pressured him. He finally agreed."

"And you didn't come?" She blinked back tears and looked at him again.

Philippe sighed deeply. He swallowed the lump of both regret and pain in his throat. "At the last moment I refused to see you. I just couldn't help myself as outrage and hatred had suffocated me. We arrived at Tara. Jean-Baptiste and Adelaide were waiting for me in the carriage, and I went out."

"What happened further?"

Philippe didn't want to talk about that theme. Heartache seemed to define his life at that time and many years later, and he was so tired of it all. How he wished he could fall into a deep sleep and wake up back in Savannah when he was sixteen years old, with Ellen in his arms.

The pain was intolerable. His heart was always bleeding as he remembered it. Finally, he began to talk, his voice enshrouded in misery and tantalizing ache. "As I stepped off the carriage, I made my way to the house through an alley. And then I saw you with a rounded belly in the end of an alley. You were walking with Mammy and Gerald, and you smiled at them. I saw you in distance. My heart collapsed – I was heartbroken. The fact that you got married to another man and were carrying his child crushed me down. I could neither move nor speak. I couldn't think. I simply turned around and left. That peaceful family picture infuriated me. My blood was boiling. I thought I would kill myself." He paused.

"Great God!" Ellen murmured, despair lacerating her.

Swallowing, Philippe shook his head and sighed in excruciation. "Later we left the Confederacy for London. Soon we left London for Paris where I spent around a month. Jean-Baptiste told me that I had to marry Lady _Georgette Anne Arden_. He said that he had arranged everything and explained it in details. I was emotionally dead and half mad. Moreover, I was still sick as my health had been improving rather slowly, despite doctors' efforts. I didn't want to marry Georgette. In the meantime, I didn't want to die. On the contrary, your matrimony didn't kill my passionate aspiration for life. I was dead inside and hated you for that, but I wanted to live. Jean-Baptiste insisted that I must have married Lady Georgette in order to have a new name and a powerful status in the high society. As my temper cooled off, I decided that it was not such a bad option for me, especially because you had become another man's wife and hadn't loved me, as I thought at that time."

Ellen choked with tears. She swallowed her sobs rising in her low throat. "Philippe, my love, I didn't betray you… You don't know… You don't understand…"

"Please, calm down darling. I cannot see you crying," Philippe said, his voice soft. He looked longingly into her eyes for too long before glancing away. "So I married Lady Georgette when she was eight months pregnant by the unknown man. As you know, the date of the marriage was changed - it was registered eight months earlier because of her advanced pregnancy. Lady Georgette needed me to hide her shame. The Ardens needed the Robillards to redeem their huge debts. I needed their name and their status. It was a meritable business arrangement."

Ellen swallowed, tears stinging her eyes. "Darling, please continue."

"Soon I was enrolled at Oxford and spent three years there. Georgette told me that we needed male heirs, and I slept with her to have children. She was and is a very beautiful woman. At first, despite the scandals around her, having intimacy with her wasn't repugnant. Ellen, I am sorry for being so straightforward. I am sorry if I am wounding your Southern virtues…" He trailed off. He would never apologize for such a frank conversation if he was talking to somebody else, but it was his Ellen, his Elaine. It was a different thing for him.

She blinked her tears away. "Say it," she encouraged.

"Well, Georgette gave physical pleasure to me, but I had never had an emotional bond with her. After she gave birth to our last child, I stopped sharing her bed and won't do it in the future. We have six children now, including one girl who is not mine by blood. We have enough male heirs - four boys. After what she had done to me with all these scandalous amorous escapades I can barely look at her. Now sharing a bed with my wife goes against me," he confessed. He gave a long melancholic look to her. "I am sorry for being so unvarnished. I am prepared to hear accusations that I am talking brazenly. Again, I am sorry."

"I would say so at any other moment, but not now."

"Thank you, my love," Philippe said. He drew a gentle finger along Ellen's flushed cheek. "My sons Jasper and Morgan were born in England. At the first year of my studies at Oxford, I joined the Foreign Office and was trained by them for around two years. Soon I began my trips to British India and to Southeast Asia in general. All my other children were born in Calcutta in British India as I always took Georgette with me to guarantee that the child was mine, as I had already mentioned."

The tears in her eyes blurred her vision, so Ellen shut them. "Oh, Philippe, my love, my only love! Forgive me! Please, forgive me!" she begged. Her voice was velvet half rustle, but he heard her words.

Even through stress and strain and tears that threatened to choke her, Philippe recognized her voice. At that moment Ellen cried hot tears for her own stupidity that she had never told him the truth before, at least when he had found her in Charleston many years ago. She cried because she had known what Philippe hadn't known and what could have made him completely happy and at the same time could have torn his heart out. But at that time Philippe didn't know the truth. He learnt it much later. The fate was very cruel to these lovebirds.

"You don't need to ask for forgiveness, my love, my Elaine." His hand reached out for her. His own stifled misery burst forth and with a groan his arms swept her closer. He was kissing her hair, her face pressed to his heart. His heart slowed to a hard, heavy thud that made it difficult for him to breath. "I understand that you had to leave Pierre's house after my presumable death. In six years after your marriage I grew to understand you. And then I contacted you and we met in Charleston. I never stopped loving you."

"Oh, God! Oh, God!" Ellen moaned. Tears were openly streaming down her face. "I love you, and that has never done me one bit of good in everyday life, apart from those rare moments we spent together. And I love you so much! I cannot stop loving you."

"When we were very young, I often spoke rather prosaically, I am ashamed to acknowledge, of our souls being joined. But after having lost you and then this miracle of finding each other again, I finally understand what that really means, my sweetheart. In this life or another life, we will always find each other. God created us and each of us a half of one soul. When we come together we are complete. No matter what happens to us in the years we are forced to be separated by Pierre Robillard, it is part of the greater design that we will find each other again. It is Heaven's wish. It is quite simple, really. It is just a matter of suffering and withstanding loneliness through the times we must be apart. If we lose each other in this life, we will find each other in the next. It is predestined."

The silence fell between them until her trepid voice came so softly and so quietly that Philippe had to strain to hear her. "You are talking so philosophically, and I understand you."

"I am not a sixteen-year-old man. I am thirty three now."

"And I am thirty two years old."

"A young beautiful woman," he remarked, kissing her right temple.

"I love you, my Philippe. Nothing will ever change that. Nothing will ever lessen my love for you. Not time, not distance, not somebody else - not even death." Ellen was nervously biting her bottom lip. "Philippe, please forgive me, my love, my only love," she pleaded.

"Ellen, my Elaine, please don't beg for forgiveness. I have nothing to forgive you for," he appeased her. He was tenderly brushing wetness from her face with his palm. "I love you. I always loved and will always love you and only you."

"Philippe, you don't understand…"

"Calm down, my love. I cannot endure your tears. My heart collapses as I am looking at you crying and devastated."

"Philippe, my Philippe," Ellen whispered. She swallowed another wave of sobs in her throat. "You have always been so high-minded, so regardful, and so forethoughtful to me."

"Sweetheart, I am not ideal. I am so high-minded and so solicitous not relative to everybody."

She shook her head mutely. Then she burst into tears again. "And I… I…"

Philippe hugged her. "Ellen, chill out. Everything is fine." Then she was in his arms, her body convulsing with the force of her dreadful sobs.

Several minutes passed, and her sobs subsided. He was still embracing her tightly, his head buried in her hair. She said in a low voice: "Philippe, you are so noble-minded and so generous. These qualities are typical for many Robillards. My father Pierre seems to a bad exception and a black sheep among the Robillards."

"I agree with your estimate of Pierre. Don't forget about Gerard de Robillard as he was also a black sheep and a scoundrel. The Robillards are not ideal, and some of them may seem to be unusual in negative aspects."

"I understand." Ellen smiled at him through tears. "Philippe," she called him. Her tears began to dry. "We forgot traditional fearlessness, audacity, extravagance, and unusualness of the Robillards."

"Excellent addition." Philippe smiled. He touched her tear-stained face with poignant tenderness. "My love for you is absolute and unconditional. I will agree to anything you want."

Tears were shimmering in her eyes, and she smiled through them. "I know."

Philippe disentangled from her and accurately moved his body. Despite pressing Ellen to his chest, he managed to light the candle on the marble table near the sofa. He raised his head and looked at the cloak on the mantle. The nearly burned-down candle provided scant light, but he distinguished the angle of the hands of the clock. "It is half past five in the morning. The household will wake up soon."

"Oh!" she cried out and pulled back. "I need to go. I must go."

"I understand, sweetheart." His black eyes searched her beautiful face he loved so much for long minutes. Then slowly he drew her hand to his mouth and kissed the tip of each finger. "If you have to go, then go now. Otherwise I will go mad, my Elaine."

She kissed him in his lips and sprang to her feet. She began to search for her clothes that were on the floor now. "Darling, you will have to work as my maid now. Will you help me to lace the corset?"

"Naturally."

"When you come here next time, I will have to tell you something."

He raised his brows. "What is it, my love?"

"It is something very important. I cannot tell it now. Otherwise you won't leave, but you must leave."

Philippe looked at her in surprise. "Please tell me what you are hiding from me."

"I cannot, my darling. It is neither time nor place. Please come here once you are done with that mission in Brunei. Of course, you should come only if the war with the Yankees doesn't destroy us."

"Ellen, my sweetheart, listen to me now," Philippe coaxed. "Take this visit card with the address and the name. Here there are the details of a person, my good friend, in Charleston. If something happens or you have no money or no food, you will come to Richard. Promise me. You can also contact me through this man."

"Is it one of your spies for the British Crown?"

"Shhh," he forestalled, his heavy eyebrows drew together in a frown. "Come now, be reasonable. It is too confidential. Richard is probably a man whom we can call so, but he knows too well how to contact me. As for me, I am simply a special ambassador," he paused. He appeased her that what he was doing wasn't dangerous, but he knew he had lied. He gazed at her solicitously. "Promise me you will do it."

Ellen's dark brown eyes locked with his black. "I promise. But I know that you are a government agent. Please be careful. I want you to live, even if I am not with you."

"I will be careful," Philippe pledged.

"Be careful here, in the South," she exhorted.

"My love, I will be alright. Don't forget that I am a British aristocrat and I have all the documents on this name. Besides, I have a diplomatic immunity, so that nobody will arrest me here. I am the Duke of Aylesbury. Philippe Robillard died in New Orleans many years ago."

Ellen pulled back and rose to her feet. "By the way, why is your surname _Robillard-Arden_? Shouldn't it be simply _Arden_?"

"It had been Arden before I became the Duke in 1855," he explained. He also stood up from the sofa.

"And you changed the surname to feel that you are still Robillard?"

Philippe smiled heartily. "Yes, my love. I obtained the Prime Minister's permission, and soon a double-barrelled surname emerged - _Robillard-Arden_. Also, I decided to join the old French and the old English noble houses."

"At least you still have reference to the Robillards in your name," Ellen said soothingly.

"Little mollification," Philippe avowed as he began to lace her corset.

"By the way, when we met last time three and a half years ago, your wife was pregnant. Whom did she have?"

"Georgette gave birth to girl. I named her Genevieve Margaret."

"Congratulations, Philippe."

"Thank you, darling." Philippe smiled with gratitude. "It is my first daughter by blood."

Ellen took a deep, agonizing breath. She glanced away. "And you named her in honor of your mother – _Geneviève Marguerite Marie-Louise de Félix du Muy de Grignan_, modifying it to the English equivalent – Genevieve Margaret." She was speaking very slowly as though each word was forced to escape her lips.

"Obviously," he said as he was done with her corset.

Ellen turned around to him. Her soft eyes met his exhilarated. "Philippe, promise me you will come back after your mission in Brunei. We will need to talk, even if you start hating me."

"I promise," he vowed with endearing earnestness. He stilled as he watched her, sensing some deeper emotion that she seemed hesitant to share with him. "But I will never hate you as I love you more than myself and this life."

Philippe helped her to dress and began to dress himself. Then there were a farewell kiss and a farewell embrace - a long, passionate embrace and a long, magic kiss. At a doorway, Ellen was watching him in his dark, powerful handsomeness with longing in her dark brown eyes, allowing herself to become intoxicated by his nearness for one time more, probably, the last time in their lives as they were never sure they would meet again. Neither her life of a married matron nor his life of a British spy, even if a British aristocrat, but still a fugitive from justice of the Confederacy, whom he had to become because of Ellen's ill-natured, black-hearted father and his Uncle Pierre Robillard, guaranteed that they would ever see each other again. As she was frozen at a doorway, he came to her and embraced her another time. And then he kissed her in her lips, again long and passionately. As she pulled back, Philippe kissed her on top of her head and on her forehead. Ellen took her black purse, which was heavy with coins and notes Philippe had given her. Then Ellen left.

* * *

_A new chapter about Philippe was uploaded. This chapter is very dramatic and sensual. Ellen and Philippe's love is portrayed as a passionate, pure, strong feeling. I tried not to make Ellen out of character._

_I hope you will love this chapter. Reviews are appreciated._

_I wanted to portray Philippe not as a cad and a scoundrel as Rhett Butler was. Somehow I have always thought so. I don't know the reason, but I have always thought that there should have been something like natural gentlehood and high-mind in Philippe. I would be interested to know your thoughts about the matter. Thank you._


	64. Chapter 64

**Chapter 64**

"**I would rather be a man of paradoxes than a man of prejudices"**

Philippe longed for his Ellen, his Elaine, whom he loved, worshiped, and idolized. Now, looking at her small miniature, he realized once again that the shaky peace he had found somewhere in Europe and Asia had been broken into many twiggy peaces when she had died during the war. He closed his tired eyes and imagined that she had been alive. He imagined her face and her smile and her eyes. He imagined his mouth on hers. He imagined their lovemaking. When he opened his black eyes, there was nobody like his Ellen around, but he persuaded himself he was simply having a nightmare. His world was shattered. His life and heart were lying in ashes.

After Ellen had left, Philippe realized that by chance he had forgotten at Tara the Arden family's ring with the coat of arms of the Dukes of Aylesbury. As he couldn't leave the ring at Tara, Philippe had to come back next day. He sent his confident James Breckenridge to Ellen. James returned with a note from her, in which she said she would wait for him in the same house near the fields at the dinner time - at Tara seven in the evening. As they found the ring under the blanket on the sofa, Ellen asked Philippe to leave quickly to avoid the possibility of discovery. It wasn't a problem because James was waiting for his patron in the carriage on the road. They had a quick farewell embrace. Then Philippe climbed into the carriage and left.

It was the moment when Mammy discovered Ellen Robillard with the unknown man who resembled young Philippe Robillard. Ellen told Mammy that the unknown man had been her relative from the French Robillards. As Mammy came after Ellen and Philippe had shared a bright farewell embrace, Mammy didn't suspect something indecent and improper. She just scolded Ellen as usual, and at Ellen's insistence the case soon seemed to be forgotten by the old woman. Ellen ordered Mammy to disturb nobody with trifles, and Mammy obeyed, never saying a word about it to anybody. Besides, it was a rather late afternoon, and Mammy didn't see well the man's face. Only later, several days before her death, Mammy confessed to Scarlett about the case, but they concluded that the man had indeed been somebody from the Robillards. Therefore, it was soon forgotten.

Philippe didn't know about the case. He even didn't suspect that Mammy had seen him with Ellen on the road as he said his goodbye and climbed into the carriage. It was his last meeting with Ellen Robillard, the only true love of his life.

Now, when Philippe remembered their last meeting, he desperately wished to have time reversed, but it was not in his power and authority. It was cruel fate that had separated them many years ago and once again when Ellen said that she wouldn't leave her husband Gerald O'Hara even if the Confederacy had been defeated by the Yankees. Probably, he had to make her family, including her husband, flee the South in the beginning of the war, but when he offered it to her as an alternative to simple waiting for the end of the war and when he explained that the Confederacy would be conquered and the reasons for it, Ellen ignored it and insisted that she would stay. She was stubborn and Philippe couldn't make her leave with him as she wasn't his wife. She decided to stay and died.

When Ellen died, Philippe was in Brunei. It was a hot time in that exotic country. In the early beginning of the 19th century Brunei was mainly a resort for pirates and a market for the slave trade. During 1840s, officers of the British navy suppressed piracy in the neighborhood. In addition, in 1839 the English adventurer James Brooke arrived in Borneo and helped the Sultan of Brunei put down a rebellion. As a reward he became governor and later "Rajah" of Sarawak in northwest Borneo and gradually expanded the territory under his control, which effectively meant British control.

The decline of the Bruneian Empire began on the back of internal battles over royal succession and the rising influences of European colonial powers in the region. Finally, the decline of Brunei culminated in the 19th century when Brunei lost much of its territory to _the White Rajahs of Sarawak_. The result was dreadful – Brunei's small landmass and separation into two parts. At that time, the British Crown was aiming at annexing the whole Brunei or at least controlling over its external affairs. The rebellion in the country was very strong as after Sarawak had been transferred to the British Crown, the Sultan of Brunei sharply opposed further British expansion into the rest of the lands of the country. However, the British were persistent and sent to the region many diplomatic ambassadors for the negotiations about peace and cooperation. Many foreign government agents were also sent to the country, but around half of them were discovered, arrested, imprisoned, and put to the physical tortures. The Sultan of Brunei was known to be cruel and unforgiving with the breakers of peaceful life in his country.

Philippe couldn't help Ellen not only because he was far away in Southeast Asia in Brunei. There was another hideous reason: Philippe was captivated by the Sultan of Brunei's people. Unfortunately, he had to spend three years in the prison once he and his dear friend _Julian St John Lessard, 13th Earl of Effingham_, were discovered and captured so unexpectedly that they even didn't have an opportunity to take the poison - an aconite-based poison called "_invisibilis mors_" or "_invisible death_" by the British secret agents and spies. Later they were exchanged for someone of spies of Brunei who were captured in the territory of the British Crown.

At that time Philippe and Julian were lucky as their personalities had remained unidentified and no secrets had been revealed to the Sultan of Brunei even under physical tortures and the opiates intoxication, which was used from time to time by their maulers. It was Philippe and Julian's first and last mission in Brunei. They were successful in the entire Asian region where they had spent so much time of their lives, but by chance they were captured by the Sultan of Brunei's people. In Brunei, the government officials did their best to get all the secrets from the Duke of Aylesbury and the Earl of Effingham, using atrocious physical tortures and at times even intoxication by the opiates. But they were keeping silent, despite colossal internal pressure and even an appearance of some dependence on the opiates. Although Philippe and Julian returned to London exhausted, very sick and, strictly speaking, nearly half dead, they were happy they had managed to survive and return home. At that time their relatives and even some government officials of Great Britain had already lost their hope to have Aylesbury and Effingham back home.

After their adventurers in Brunei, Philippe spent nearly half a year in London as he had to regain his health, which was rather difficult given that he, as well as Julian, had to overcome his dependence on the opiates. But he coped with it. And as soon as Philippe felt better and the doctors gave their permission, he departed to the States only to find that his sweetheart Ellen had died from typhoid. It was the greatest stroke of cruel fate Philippe had ever had in his life.

"What are you doing, Philippe? Is it the evening of reminiscence for you?" somebody asked.

Aylesbury turned his head, his eyes fixing at the doorway. A man with platinum blonde hair and blue eyes was standing there. He was wearing the light blue tailcoat, the white waistcoat, the light blue trousers, the indigo-blue cravat, the black gloves, and the black top hat. His attire was very expensive and elegant and perfectly fitted him. It was the Duke of Aylesbury's friend the Earl of Effingham. "It is a very special evening," he said briefly.

"I am sorry for intruding," Effingham said. "However, I knocked thrice. You didn't answer."

The Duke of Aylesbury gave to him a yearning, lachrymose glance. He stared at a platinum blonde man for a minute, without any words. Then finally he broke the silence. His voice was so low that it vibrated in his chest. "And what else can I do? Today is the anniversary of my presumable death in New Orleans, if you don't remember."

"And you were remembering," Lord Effingham supplemented.

"Julian, you see, I feel strange uneasiness and trepidation, so usual for me on this day," Aylesbury uttered. "I am even dressed as though I was in profound mourning." He let out a chilling laugh. It was a laugh that could froze blood in veins.

Effingham gave to him an ambiguous look. "Don't say so, Philippe."

Aylesbury laughed again – the same hair-raising, blood-curdling laugh. Past anger at cruel fate and at himself sizzled to life in her bruised heart. His hard gaze slid over his friend. He remarked that Effingham looked like a dandy from one of London or Paris ballrooms. He laughed again. Then he spoke: "Julian, you look like a dashing dandy from a ballroom, while I am a dandy in mourning. I am always wearing only black on this cursed day. I am in mourning for my own death."

Lord Effingham looked at him with empathy. "Philippe, go to bed. You are departing to Milan early in the morning."

"I am not tired," Aylesbury retorted. Hand-in-hand with his age-old anger was hurt, and these two emotions fed on each other, strengthening each other, until he felt nearly ill with emotion. "I could never imagine a young woman could die from typhoid she caught from Emmy Slattery, who was a local whore and whom she nursed, trying to cure."

"Not only young people die from typhoid."

"Should I consider it alleviation?" Aylesbury smirked. He was fighting to grasp some control of his runaway feelings.

"No, my friend," Effingham dissuaded him. "I am sorry if my words sounded cynical. I didn't mean it."

"I know," the Duke of Aylesbury responded sincerely.

A blonde man gave a new compassionate look to his friend. "Philippe, you couldn't help Ellen because we had nearly died in the Sultan of Brunei's prison and under those tortures. What could you do?"

A strained silence settled between them. Aylesbury inhaled deeply and stared at Effingham. "I could do nothing," he admitted in the end. He tried to mask the anger at himself he was feeling, but it was all too obvious to Lord Effingham. He took a deep breath, expecting his friend's next words.

"Philippe," the Earl of Effingham stated. "You have to be strong now. You have to somehow put the past behind, if not for yourself, but for the sake of your children. Otherwise you won't be able even to withstand your loneliness. Ellen is dead. Gerald O'Hara, who raised Scarlett and was like a father for her, is dead. Pierre Robillard is dead. But you are alive. Scarlett is alive. Your other children are alive. They love and need you."

"Never call Gerald Scarlett's father in front of me!" Philippe thundered in pain. He cast an accusatory glance at Julian, anger and helpless fear playing across his hard features. "She is not his daughter! She is my daughter!" He paused and raised his voice to a sonorous soprano. "She is my daughter!"

"Shhh, Philippe," Effingham appeased him softly. "Somebody may hear. I am sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. I know Scarlett is your daughter."

"But I hadn't known about it for a long time. If I knew, I would never leave Ellen in that damned Confederacy in the beginning of the civil war. If I knew, I would never marry my dear wife, Lady Georgette, in the beginning. I would make Ellen leave Gerald O'Hara."

"Philippe, be reasonable."

Aylesbury ignored his friend's admonition. He was pouring his heart out. He could no longer struggle to overcome all the emotions tearing through him. "But Ellen didn't tell me! She hid this fact from me! And finally I had learnt the truth about my own child with Ellen, my precious child, only three days before Pierre Robillard's death. It has always been my heart's desire to have a child with Ellen, my Elaine. I had been dreaming of it for years!"

"I know, Philippe."

As ferocious exhilaration and heart-shattering sentimentalism enthralled Aylesbury in one dizzy assault, he began to laugh uproariously and uncontrollably. As his blood-cooling emotions were turning well drowned, the tides of laugh were flickering out in the dumbness of the room. Then he resumed talking. "If you only knew, Julian, how shocked Pierre Robillard was when I appeared in front of him in the fresh. As he regained conscience, this beast spoke the truth. And Pierre again overplayed me. If you only imagined, Julian, how happy this beast was to throw the unvarnished truth about Scarlett into my face."

As Aylesbury's voice trailed off, Effingham came to his friend's bed. "And Pierre Robillard also gave to you Ellen's diaries that proved that she had been pregnant by you when she had accepted Gerald O'Hara's proposal. Now we know what Ellen wanted to tell you when you were supposed to come back to the States after our mission in Brunei. Now we know why she had got married to Gerald O'Hara."

The Duke of Aylesbury put Ellen's miniature back into his inside pocket. He lifted his black eyes to his friend. "Yes, Julian." He straightened up and rose to his feet.

Lord Effingham put a gloved hand on his shoulder. "Philippe, please calm down."

Aylesbury forced a transcendental smile. "I am fine, Julian."

The Earl shook his head in uncertainty. "Do you still blame Ellen for not telling you?"

When the emotion in the Duke of Aylesbury's eyes turned haunted, his gaze shifted away. "I blamed her, but then I reconsidered the situation. Ellen's life was not easy. It also wasn't happy, but she didn't expect life to be easy. I daresay if it was not happy, that was a woman's lot. Besides, the Old South was a pure man's world, and she accepted it as such. What could she do when she thought I had died? She couldn't allow herself to be disgraced. Therefore, she accepted Gerald O'Hara's proposal. Later my Ellen didn't tell me because she was afraid of my actions," he paused and gave to Effingham a long, conceptual glance. "You know better than anybody else how desperate and wild I can be."

The Earl of Effingham smiled affably. "Yes, I know, Philippe. And Ellen knew it."

"Oh, yes, she knew." The Duke smiled woefully. "So I can understand Ellen, although I don't like that she hid the truth from me."

"I know you cannot hate her. I have never seen such a strong, ambrosial feeling of love between two people. I think you and Ellen are an exception, but a tragic exception."

"Maybe, it is heavenly love," the Duke of Aylesbury speculated.

"Philippe, I know you have suffered a calamity after her death."

Aylesbury's lips curved in a lethal smile. "Do you know why I am still alive?"

"Isn't it related to your fatalistic beliefs?"

"Jesus Christ, Julian! You know me too well."

"Yes, I do."

"When Ellen was stripped from me more than thirty years ago and when she died during the civil war with the Yankees, I found myself walking in a hell I couldn't find my way out of. Yet somehow I must have done something right, for here I am now. I see some light again, although my Ellen, my Elaine, is not with me in physical word. I do not know what is to come, and now I don't even care. All I know is that I loved madly and my feelings were returned. All I know is that I have a child with Ellen, the pledge of our love. All I know is that I have my children with Lady Georgette, and I love them. All I know is that whatever happens I will die a happy man. And after my death I will meet Ellen."

Effingham cringed and glared at him. "Don't even think about your death!"

"No, I am not striving to die. Ellen never wanted me to die. I am simply resigned to the fact of losing Ellen in material world as she is always with me – in my heart and in my soul."

Effingham glared into the Duke's tranquil gaze and wished he had such faith as his friend had. He felt uncertain. "I don't know what I would do if I were in your shoes."

Aylesbury smiled heartily at Effingham. "Julian, you are such a good friend. We had so many adventures together. We saved each other. I didn't die in New Orleans only because by chance we met, I told you my story, and you came to Paris to meet with Jean-Baptiste and share my troubles with him. I will never forget it."

"The trip from London to Paris to meet _Count Jean-Baptiste de Bréveaux_ wasn't the most complicated thing I did in my life." Effingham smiled cordially at the Duke. "I will also never forget what you had done for me – how you save me when I lost the poison in Charleston. I will never forget how many times we saved each other in British India."

"I will never forget this too, Julian."

"Will you ever tell Scarlett the truth?"

"Not now. I cannot reveal my identity. Besides, she won't understand. Probably, in the future I will tell her, but I am not sure." Aylesbury paused and sighed. "I don't want to ruin Scarlett's life. It is enough for me to see that she is happy."

"Are you going to say that you will never tell Scarlett the truth?"

"It is very probable, Julian."

"Philippe, you have done so much for Scarlett in the past years! If not for you, she would never be accepted in the ton of England. If not for you, she would be dead because Doctor Broussard was running out of antidote to blue cooper sulphate when Annabelle and Scarlett were poisoned at the art event. You risked your reputation and even your neck when you took so much powder of antidote from the Foreign Office without the prior written consent of the Minister for Foreign Affairs."

The Duke smiled hazily. "I had to do it. And nothing bad happened for me."

"But it could happen, Philippe! There were no negative consequences of your self-willed behavior at the Foreign Office only due to your high status and your past rewards and your connections."

"Beyond any doubt," Aylesbury said firmly.

"If not for you, Scarlett would be disgraced by giving birth to out-of-wedlock children. It doesn't matter where it happened – in the South or in Europe. In either case she would be disgraced."

Aylesbury's eyes flew to Effingham's face. He laughed leerily. "Oh, you know about this fact." He was still standing near the bed.

The Earl of Effingham settled into the French settee near Aylesbury's bed. "Of course, I know. I tumbled to an idea straight away, although you had never told me about it. I know very well that in the autumn of 1873 Mathieu and you had gone to the United States together. Mathieu had his own deals in Charleston as he was a shareholder of the Charleston National Bank. He also attended the funeral of his old friend. You, Philippe, went to the South of the States only because you knew that Pierre Robillard had been dying." Effingham paused and looked quizzically at Aylesbury.

Aylesbury shrank on the same settee near Effingham. "Our agent in Charleston messaged me that Pierre's health had been deteriorating day by day and that it had gone into critical state. I decided to finally meet that damned beast."

"As you met Pierre Robillard, you somehow forced him to make Scarlett his only legal heiress. You considered it fair that Pierre's little left money and your father Christophe's great fortune must be inherited by Scarlett, you and Ellen's daughter."

Aylesbury slightly leaned forward. "Yes."

"I don't know how you achieved it. Pierre Robillard seems to be a devil who twisted so many people's lives."

"My dear Uncle Pierre was so frightened," Aylesbury declared. The words "dear Uncle" were edged with the most poisonous venom. "He was nearly out of his mind after I had appeared in front of him in his pink master bedroom. He couldn't believe that I hadn't died in New Orleans as he arranged to happen. I am still not sure why he agreed to make Scarlett his only legal heiress, how I managed to force him.

"Philippe, did you intimidate or blackmail him?"

The Duke shuddered in loathing as sharp stab of pain hit him. "I would say it was a combination of blackmail and intimidation. Pierre wasn't afraid of death and hell. He wasn't a man who looked back. He didn't regret he had ruined my and Ellen's lives. I think only one thing helped me. I threatened that if Pierre hadn't made Scarlett his legal heiress, I would have spoken the truth. I said I had had nothing to lose, so that I would do it. Of course, I lied because at that time and now I had and have many things to lose."

"It certainly helped."

"I threatened that after all Pierre's acts of atrocity I would have made his name a laughingstock of Savannah and the whole world. I warned him that his name would be shot with abhorrence, disdain and repulsion at the mouths of lay audience and the worst scandalmongers. I menaced to reveal the truth to the world, both in the States and in Europe. I threatened to disclose to the society what had happened with me in New Orleans and what had happened with my parents Christophe and Genevieve in reality. Of course, I would never do it as I am not going to ruin the future of the Robillards, the majority of whom are good people. I am also the Robillard and my children are the Robillards by blood. I will never do something to crush the exterior honor and the alleged gentlehood of the whole family – the Robillards in France, the Robillard-Ardens in England, and the Robillards in the United States. There are so many Robillards with undoubted, real honor and genuine gentlehood, and they mustn't pay for the misdoings and the mortal sins of several scoundrels from the family."

Effingham put off his gloves. "Yes, few people can guess what bastards and rascals were among the Robillards. The mysteries your family is keeping are horrid, Philippe. I hope there are no such dreadful secrets in my family. However, probably, I simply don't know something."

Anger swept the Duke of Aylesbury as he remembered Pierre Robillard. His very dark brown, nearly black eyes flashed in danger. "Pierre and Annabelle's grandfather Gerard were bastards, but Gerard wasn't responsible for what happened with me. However, Pierre and Gerard were involved in too many evil-doings."

"Do you think you should open Annabelle's eyes to her grandfather's misdeeds and transgressions?"

The Duke raised his eyebrows in some surprise. "Why should I?"

"Maybe, Annabelle deserves to know the origin of the money she inherited from her dear grandfather Gerard."

"If I reveal to her Gerard's sins, I will have to reveal many other ill-favored details about Gerard and Jean-Baptiste's cousin Pierre Robillard. I am not interested in throwing limelight on Pierre's villainies and on the story of Christophe and Genevieve and their son Philippe. You know I am evasive of any questions about my mother and father. They think Pierre's sister Constance was my mother, so that I don't like to raise this theme."

"It is understandable."

"In addition, I wouldn't be so indelicate to raise the matter now, Julian."

"I get it."

"I think when people are on deathbed, they at least are afraid that their name will be jaw-jawed by others. The same happened with Pierre, and he surrendered – Scarlett became his legal heiress."

"Exactly. Later, in Savannah somehow you learnt that Scarlett had been pregnant by her husband Rhett Butler who was going to divorce her," Effingham continued his version of events.

"_Oui (Yes)_."

"How did you know Scarlett had been pregnant?"

Aylesbury's black eyes locked with Effingham's blue. "I saw how Scarlett had fainted near Pierre's house in the street. James and I delivered her to the doctor. She was very weak. We were disguised as I didn't want to appear in Savannah and to attend Pierre's funeral as the Duke of Aylesbury. Somebody of the inhabitants of the city could still remember how young Philippe Robillard had looked like, and I didn't want to attract unnecessary attention to the Duke of Aylesbury. Besides, Ellen's sisters Pauline and Eulalie could recognize me as they had known young Philippe Robillard too well. Therefore, Scarlett didn't know who James and I had been in truth as we had collected her in the street, had put in the carriage, and had taken her to the doctor. Later I talked to that physician and learnt that she had been with child."

The blue eyes sparkled in appreciation. "You, Philippe, knew that Mathieu had been sick and had wanted to marry his mistress Minerve. He didn't want to spend the last year of his life alone and intended to propose to her upon arrival in France from the States. And you asked Mathieu to get acquainted with Scarlett and to marry her."

The Duke stared at the Earl and laughed. "_Tout à fait raison (Absolutely right)_."

"I guessed. It wasn't complicated."

Aylesbury laughed aloud again. "Surely, it isn't difficult for a spy."

"You see I know it. And I also know Mathieu loved Scarlett," Effingham commented.

"Indeed, Mathieu loved Scarlett. He said that it was love from the first sight. He assured me that he would marry her not only because I asked him to help me save her and not because we were very close, good friends. Mathieu was so smitten by Scarlett that he was ready to marry her and ignore marital duties, although he could demand intimacy from her, despite his progressing illness."

"Mathieu was a good man, God rest to his sole." Effingham rubbed his cheek. "I know he was very obliged to you. It also played its role."

"Indubitably."

"Did Mathieu know about your true relation to Scarlett?"

Aylesbury nodded. "I told him that she is my daughter. I knew that Mathieu would say about it to nobody. I had to explain to him why I obdurately wanted to save her from disgrace and humiliation."

"Philippe, tell me what were you going to do if Mathieu didn't agree to marry Scarlett?"

Devilish embers flashed in Aylesbury's eyes. "I would kill Rhett Butler in a duel, Julian."

"Philippe, be serious."

"Of course not, Julian."

"So what would you do?"

Aylesbury's mouth tightened as he looked away. "I knew that Mathieu would agree to marry Scarlett. You are right as he was very obliged to me. He felt so."

"You are a dispassionate cold devil." Effingham laughed.

The Duke laughed light-heartedly. "_Mains froids, cœur chaud (Cold hands, warm heart)._"

"It is a proverb about us, Philippe."

"Unquestionably."

"_Je préfère être un homme de paradoxes qu'un homme de prejudges. (I would rather be a man of paradoxes than a man of prejudices)_," the Earl quoted.

The Duke gazed at the Earl. "I assume you are quoting _Jean-Jacques Rousseau_. These words resemble his thinking."

"You are right, Philippe. You know French literature too well." Shaking his head, Effingham laughed quietly. "In either case, Scarlett was a better variant for Mathieu than Minerve. Minerve was just spending and spending Mathieu's money."

The Duke of Aylesbury shut his eyes. "Probably, but now Mathieu's only son Charles is dead. Honestly, I feel guilty. My benevolent intentions to save Mathieu from greedy Minerve and to help Scarlett resulted in Charles's death."

"Philippe, Philippe," the Earl of Effingham called him. "You mustn't blame yourself. It is not your guilt. Nobody knew what would happen."

The Duke's face was sad. "Probably."

"Philippe, do you know about the new scandal around your family in London?"

Aylesbury arched a brow. "No, I don't. Please tell me."

"Your wife Lady Georgette…" the Earl stumbled with words.

"Again she…" The Duke sighed heavily in frustration. "What happened?"

"Lady Georgette was discovered in _Vauxhall Gardens_ at the masked ball when she was drunk and intimate with a masked man."

"I don't care," Aylesbury snapped lightly. "It is a usual story."

"You don't understand, Philippe."

"Then tell it, Julian."

"Both of them were very drunk. That man turned out to be your own valet, from your house on _Belgrave Square_ in Belgravia – the Robillard-Arden Hall, not Lady Georgette's house on _Berkeley Square_ in Mayfair – the Arden Hall. It became known in London that Lady Georgette had paid for your valet's house in Marylebone and for his clothes and for restaurants. Your valet was living on your money your wife had given to him. This story is widely spoken about in the ton."

Aylesbury shook his head in disbelief. "Bloody Hell."

"It is disgusting! Your son Jasper was trying to mitigate the consequences of the scandal, but it will be rather difficult. Besides, Jasper is also working at the Foreign Office and may leave England anytime. Your son Morgan is in the South of France, your son Christopher is in Scotland. Your other children can also do nothing. It is a disaster!"

"Bloody Hell," Aylesbury repeated. He was angry to the tips of his toes. "Jasper planned to leave for Geneva and then Vienna soon. I will need him on the deal with Silvia Dawson."

"Even more so."

"Yes," Aylesbury said thoughtfully.

"Philippe, now when _Queen Victoria_ is going to give you one more dukedom and when you plan to transfer it to Jasper, making Morgan the heir of the Dukes of Aylesbury, nothing bad, like such a blatant scandal, should happen. Your wife's flamboyant, sybarite life is destroying what you have achieved in the past years."

Aylesbury's face had a faraway expression. "Besides, Jasper is going to propose to a girl to marry. She lives in Vienna and is the daughter of Austrian baron."

"Philippe, I am happy to hear it because it is high time for Jasper to marry, but I was talking about the scandal in London," Effingham raised his voice.

Aylesbury's far-off look pierced Effingham. "I am not the only one who receives the promotion in nobility. You soon will become the Duke. I know that your father is dying and you are his heir. I am very sorry for your father's health."

Effingham's blue eyes turned sad. "Thank you, Philippe. I feel devastated as he is dying. It is bad that my father doesn't want to see me as his new young wife poisoned his brain with idiocy about me."

"You are his heir at all accounts. You will become the Duke very soon."

Lord Effingham nodded. "Yes."

"In addition, _Queen Victoria_ will issue the decree to grant to you more land in Surrey. Imagine how much land you will have."

Effingham glanced at Aylesbury suspiciously. "I am glad to have a dukedom soon and unhappy about my father's upcoming death. However, Philippe, I was talking about the scandal several minutes ago."

"Julian, you see you will own the whole Guildford and nearly the whole Mole Valley soon."

"Philippe, are you well?"

Aylesbury didn't listen to him. He continued to speculate. "I think granting to me a second dukedom and giving to you so much land from the Crown in Surrey are adequate rewards after what we had done for the country in British India. Too many years there… too many dangers to withstand…"

Effingham looked anxious. "You must listen to me."

The Duke of Aylesbury turned his head and looked at his friend. His black eyes were sombrous and clanked. "I am listening. I am just so tired and so annoyed to think and to hear about these scandals around my dear Lady Georgette. I don't care for her. I stopped caring for her many years ago. I am fed up with her. Nonetheless, I fear this whore is going to harm me till my dying day. And she is deliberately doing it. Ellen was a celestial lady, while Lady Georgette is a trashy whore." His voice sounded whipped-up.

"What will you do now, Philippe?"

Aylesbury stared at him, openmouthed. "Julian!" he exclaimed. "I knew it would all turn out badly. I have had just about enough. I am going to restrict her financially, so that she won't have money to spend on her lovers, all the more my valets. I will instruct my lawyer in London. She won't continue her sybarite life. Now I will personally check all her expenses through my lawyer."

"It is a wise decision, Philippe. Does Lady Georgette know that you are not the son of her father's brother?"

Aylesbury adjusted his navy blue cravat. "No, she doesn't. Lady Georgette knows nothing about the adoption. Knowing her poisonous nature, her father _Jordan Theodore Arden, 7th Duke of Aylesbury_, and his younger brother Lord _Richard Russell Arden_, my father by adoption, didn't tell her the truth. Remember that the only son of Constance and Richard Arden was raised at the boarding school in France after Constance's death in 1835. Richard was a government agent and served in the Ottoman Empire at that time. As he was afraid of the boy's destiny as he was involved in too risky secret deals. Therefore, Richard sent his son to France to join the boarding school in Nantes in _Bretagne _in the north-west of France. Therefore, nobody saw that small boy for many years. That young man had died in France 1844 just before I had to take a new name. His name was _Philippe Jonathan Arden_ and he was indeed the son of Pierre's sister _Constance de Robillard de Bréveaux Arden_ and her husband _Richard Russell Arden. _Philippe is a quite popular name among the Robillards. We used the fact of the boy's death to fabricate the story for the society. My real name was _Philippe Julien Louis Robillard_ in American variant and would be _Philippe Julien Louis de Robillard de Bréveaux_ in Europe. I was happy that at least I could keep my first name."

"I can imagine how happy you were."

Aylesbury smiled cryptically. "I remained Philippe."

Effingham smiled back. "And you took Justin as a middle name because the first two letters of the name Justin are the same as in your initial second name – Julien?"

"Precisely, Julian," Aylesbury replied dryly. "The story for the public sounded so plausible and so ideal. When a sixteen-year-old gentleman Philippe Arden arrived in London in 1845, nobody was astonished. Everybody thought that I had arrived from France from the boarding school. Later I married my dear Lady Georgette and paid the debt of the Arden family." The Duke of Aylesbury arched a brow and scoffed. "Isn't that perfect? The story was pre-agreed for Lady Georgette and for the ton of England."

"Good for you that Georgette doesn't know that you are not first cousins, Philippe. If she knew, she could harm you."

Aylesbury sighed heavily. "Oh, Julian, Julian…"

Effingham took his handkerchief and blew his nose. "Earlier your wife had only aristocrats and some commoners as her lovers. Now she is sleeping with your valet. What will be tomorrow?"

"Julian, I will stop this madness. I told you what I would do. I will restrict Lady Georgette in the usage of money. The money is mine. This measure will help, I know. She is a fool as she doesn't understand I don't care what she is doing unless it starts harming the interests of my children. But what she did with my valet is too disgusting. It is beyond my endurance."

"Even I am praying it will stop your wife's scandalous escapades," Lord Effingham said uneasily. "It is such a shame for a woman of her age, despite the fact that she looks much younger."

"Lady Georgette doesn't know what shame is," Aylesbury commented tartly.

Lord Effingham nodded. "I can only agree."

"_Les hommes doivent garder les yeux grands ouverts avant le mariage, et la demi-fermés par la suite. (Men should keep their eyes wide open before marriage and half shut afterwards)_," Aylesbury quoted _Madeleine de Scudery's_ words, which were so suitable to describe his marriage to Georgette. He couldn't help himself not to say so. Then he raised his voice. "But she has done enough. It has been enough to provoke even the patience of a saint."

"Your eyes no longer can be half shut," Effingham inferred.

Aylesbury almost laughed at the sad absurdity of his miserable marriage. "_Un mot plus juste n'a jamais parlé (A truer word was never spoken)._"

"By the way, was it adoption in your case? Or did you just take the place of the deceased _Philippe Jonathan Arden?_ I have always thought it had been legal confidential adoption._"_

"Yes, it was official adoption that was kept secret. All the registers and the documents certifying the death and the birth of _Philippe Jonathan Arden_ were destroyed by Richard Arden. I don't think Richard Arden liked that, but he had to act in that way. He did it because the Ardens desperately needed money to save themselves from the debt prison and the sheer wreckage of the family, so that Richard wanted to proceed to our deal. Besides, he was a good man and felt sympathy to me. The only problem was that he couldn't adopt deceased _Philippe Julien Louis de Robillard de Bréveaux _or_ Philippe Julien Louis Robillard _or_ Philippe Robillard _who died in New Orleans! I didn't exist!"

"And therefore Jean-Baptiste made new documents for you. You became Jean-Baptiste's second, younger son _Philippe Justin Louis de Robillard de Bréveaux. _For adoption you took only two names - Philippe and Justin, as in England we are probably less obsessed with the names than in France. You may not continue. I know the story."

"Lady Georgette's father Jordan and his brother Richard knew the truth about me. They knew who I was – Philippe Robillard from Savannah. Everything was very simple because Richard Arden, my father by adoption, had great connections in the Foreign Office, personally knew the Prime Minister, and was on good terms with _Queen Victoria_. By "everything" I mean my secret adoption using Jean-Baptiste's documents and the issuance of the Queen's decree covering legal transmission of the title of the Duke of Aylesbury, given my adoption. As everything went so smooth, I was obliged to join the Foreign Office."

"Oh, Philippe," Effingham breathed. "In your life everything is so complex."

Aylesbury smiled lamentably. "It is a paradoxical life. I daresay that my life is paradoxically dreadful, while others think that I am just a mysterious, dispassionate British nobleman."

"Philippe, enigma and mystery are the essential parts of your image in public."

Aylesbury smiled. "And nothing will ever change it."

Lord Effingham also smiled. "Nothing." He stared at Aylesbury. "It is so good Lady Georgette doesn't know many details." Then he took his black gloves from his lap and put them on. He looked at the pocket watch and looked up at Aylesbury. "Philippe, let's go to bed. You are departing early."

"It is a good idea. Let's talk in the morning."

"Goodnight, Philippe," Effingham said as he stood up from the settee.

"Goodnight, Julian."

As Effingham left, Aylesbury rose to his feet. He didn't use his German valet to help his undress today. He wanted to be alone. A man of paradoxes was tired and hoped that sleep and slumber would claim him soon. Unfortunately, the Duke of Aylesbury was incorrect as he had to live through another sleepless night. When fatigue finally overcame him, he was dreaming about his Ellen, his Elaine. Nothing could ever change that his sweetest and his most dreadful dreams were connected with his tragic love for his first cousin Ellen Robillard. Nothing would ever make him stop loving Ellen.

* * *

_We are more or less done with Philippe's memories so far. His life is indeed tragic. There will be more memories in Act IV when the mystery what happened with him in New Orleans will be revealed. I am sorry that it took three chapters to talk about Philippe. He was a usual hero for you in both Act I and Act II. Now it was high time to give you more insight about his life._

_Next chapter is about the mystery Philippe and Julian identified and Ellen and Philippe's love. It is rather interesting._

_Soon Philippe will disappear for several chapters._

_Finally the structure is that Scarlett, Rhett, and the children reappear in the chapter after next. Scarlett won't disappear again for several chapters, I promise. These chapters were necessary to give to you Philippe's background and reveal some mysteries from the past, like why Mathieu married Scarlett._

_The historical details about Brunei are correct._

_Reviews are appreciated. Thank you._


	65. Chapter 65

**Chapter 65**

**Morning in Vienna: Aylesbury's departure and Silvia Dawson's mystery**

The early hours of July morning were sharply brilliant with crispness that hurt the eye and seared the lungs. Although it was only early morning, _Herrengasse_ or "_Lords' Street_" was already overcrowded and many carriages were moving down the street. The sun wasn't high in the sky, but it was so warm that many windows in the mansions along the street were left ajar. There were very few clouds in the sky, and the day was going to be very warm.

The rays of the sun were lighting limestone exterior and five fanciful turrets of the Duke of Aylesbury's Gothic mansion on _Herrengasse_ – the Aylesbury House. Inside the house, somebody was hurrying to the small reception room in the north wing of the building, and the sound of the footsteps was rapidly dying away as the man was going farther and farther down the hallways and through many rooms.

The Gothic hallways in the Aylesbury House were rather narrow. The stained-glass windows were very large and sharply arched, and some of windows were elegantly multi-colored, some were the magnificent rose windows. The ceilings were fantastically peaked and vaulted. There was much volume in the height of the rooms, and any soft-spoken word or a small noise or footsteps resonated aloud with considerable magnitude, gradually fading away as a sound was flying higher and higher in the vacuum to the ceiling. Because of the Gothic interior in many rooms of the mansion, the general effect was a somber, highly romantic atmosphere inside the mansion. Although the exterior of the Aylesbury House was pure Gothic, a mixture of styles was used for interior decoration in various rooms – the Gothic Style and the Baroque Style. The Aylesbury House was a product of great taste, elegance, and extravagance, but grand, nearly oversubtle extravagance.

The gentleman entered the grand hall in the Gothic Style. In the grand hall the walls were painted in rich, dark colors to create an effect of stone walls; the massive oak furniture and the rich upholstery in charcoal, grey, or pewter colors complemented medieval decorating. There were several stone fireplaces and many paintings on the walls. The man quickly passed through the grand hall and turned right to the narrow corridor, now going through two large reception rooms with the interior in the Baroque Style. The man turned his head several times, his eyes flying to the walls with lavish floral paintings and carvings and looking at the beautiful ornate, gilded furniture around him. As he saw his reflection in one of many large-framed, artistic mirrors on the wall, he laughed ambiguously and kept going ahead. As he was leaving the large reception room, he was lucky not to break a beautiful porcelain vase at the table. He cursed, his gaze stopping for a moment at many other similar vases and at small, lavishly gilded sculptures. He sighed heavily and continued his way.

The gentleman passed the large, double-height art gallery, which provided a contrast of light and space, and entered the small reception room with the Gothic interior. This man was his Grace the Duke of Aylesbury. As his black eyes examined the room, he noticed his platinum blonde, blue-eyed friend - Lord Effingham, who was already having his breakfast.

Lord Effingham turned his head and looked at Aylesbury. "Good morning, Philippe." He was drinking his favorite green tea.

"Good morning, Julian."

"I am happy to see today a dandy from a ballroom, not a dandy in mourning," Effingham grinned.

Aylesbury examined himself. "It is true. I didn't pay attention which attire I chose."

Indeed, the Duke of Aylesbury didn't look even close to a dandy in mourning who was pouring his heart out to Lord Effingham yesterday. He was wearing the elegant three-piece lounge suit of pale azure color and the black top hat with the matching grosgrain ribbon. His shirt was white, with the flat-lace collar and with the wristbands trimmed with massive Venetian laces, which was more popular in the late 18th century and at the beginning of the century, but Aylesbury liked to wear such shirts from time to time. Dark blue puff tie with one diamond stud finished his day attire.

"You are already at the breakfast table," Aylesbury said as he settled himself on the sofa at the other side of the table in front of his companion.

"It is half past seven in the morning. You are late."

Aylesbury took an empty cup and poured coffee for himself. "I was busy. I awoke at six in the morning."

"When what were you doing for an hour and a half before going here?"

As the small reception room faced the garden, not _Herrengasse_, all the French windows were ajar. Even despite that, it was so warm in the room that Aylesbury extracted his handkerchief and shortly pressed it to his forehead to mop the drops of perspiration. Aylesbury turned away to look out onto the beautiful morning in the garden and again found himself wishing all his life to go to hell — the ancient lineage of the Dukes of Aylesbury and the Robillards, his job at the Foreign Office, Pierre Robillard's misdeeds that twisted his life, his miserable marriage, and every last man in Vienna and in the whole Europe. None of it meant a thing to him after he had just received a message from the British agent in Charleston - Richard.

"If I tell you, you will hardly recognize me anymore as the charming gentleman you saw me this morning," the Duke of Aylesbury murmured with a deferential sideways glance at his friend.

Effingham raised a brow. "Why is that so?"

"It is because I will look very anxious," Aylesbury declared as he sipped coffee.

"What happened?"

"Before I tell you, I will dismiss all the servants, Julian."

Aylesbury dismissed the housekeeper Ermelinda and the maid Elsa. As they left the room, he leapt to his feet and quickly went to the door. Then he locked the door. He also closed all the French windows, despite warmth in the room. What he was going to say was too confidential.

"I am sorry for closing the windows. You will have to endure warmth."

"I will survive, Philippe."

The Duke of Aylesbury shrank back onto the sofa. He gave to Effingham a long, long, ambiguous glance. "I had received two messages today, and one of them was from Richard." His lips twisted bitterly. "_Silvia Ferdinanda Albertson Dawson_ was a government agent. She had been working for Italy for several years."

Effingham was eating Semmel, Austrian breadroll. "How did Richard get this information? Is he sure?"

"He is absolutely sure. When I asked him through James to learn the background of the Albertson family and Silvia Dawson's biography in particular, Richard became very interested in the sources of Silvia's wealth. Although her old husband _John Jeremiah Dawson_, whom she killed, had been rather rich, Silvia couldn't inherit so much money. Richard had found it rather suspicious even before I asked him to check her. Recently Richard had tackled two cipher messages. One message was sent by somebody from Charleston, another was sent from France to Charleston. The message sent from Charleston was for the Italian Foreign Office and for somebody in particular. The message sent from France was from a French spy and it was apparently sent to Silvia Dawson's messenger."

Lord Effingham even paled. "Oh, Philippe! It means that Silvia Dawson was working simultaneously for the Italian government and for a French spy. Do we know a nickname of this French spy?"

Philippe looked around. As his eyes swept over the interior, beautiful black silk, silver embroidery and crystal white cushions imparted some comfort into his heart. "At present we don't know his nickname. Richard is working on it, trying to decode the entire message. So far we only understand that that message was for somebody from France and was highly secret."

"Was the encoding of the message so special?"

Aylesbury sipped coffee and glared at Effingham. He no longer looked as tranquil as he was when he entered the small reception room. "Yes."

"Any particular resemblances to the encoding we know in practice?"

Aylesbury stared hard at him. "Richard is working. I will have a look on the extract of the text of the message soon. But Richard messaged me that the encoding was very professional and highly specific."

"We have so many professional French spies that it will be hard to identify him."

Aylesbury furrowed his brow. "Yes, it is so. We know that Silvia Dawson sold to the French spy some Italian secrets and, probably, sold French secrets to the Italians."

"So her great fortune is coming from cross-selling the government secrets."

Aylesbury sipped coffee. "It looks like that."

"It means that somebody had probably killed Silvia," Effingham continued to speculate. "We know that the poison in Silvia's medallion was different from usual cooper sulphate on the day when Rhett Butler's wedding was stopped by Annabelle and when Silvia killed herself in the Church. This poison was aconite-based _invisibilis mors_. Philippe, somebody could change the poison in her medallion from cooper sulphate to _invisibilis mors_."

"This is a precisely good definition of what could have happened, Julian."

Effingham sipped green tea. "Does Richard know who sent the cipher message from Charleston?"

"Richard is trying to identify the villain who is apparently now in Charleston and who was Silvia's messenger. As Rhett Butler was Silvia Dawson's fiancé, he suspects that the villain can be someone from the Butlers."

"It doesn't mean that the Butlers were involved." Effingham finished his breadroll.

"I agree, but there is such a possibility, Julian."

"Rhett Butler is in Vienna. Eleanor Butler and Robert Butler are in London. None of them could be Silvia's Charleston-based messenger."

"But we have Rosemary Butler and Ross Butler in Charleston. It could be someone of them. I really don't know what to think about the possible involvement of the Butlers."

"I also don't know what to think," Effingham admitted. "What was the second message about? I mean a message which you received today."

"It was from Ian. I asked him to give me information about _Duke Vittorio Amedeo di Savoia_. Ian gave me an excellent record."

While Aylesbury and Effingham had been friends since they had met in New Orleans many years ago, Aylesbury and _Ian Colin Murray, 9th Duke of Lauderdale,_ became friends at Oxford. Lauderdale also worked with Aylesbury and Effingham for many years in British India, but in the past years he was controlling the secret deals of the Foreign Office in France, Italy, Switzerland, and Austro-Hungary. The Duke of Aylesbury sent a message to his friend Ian to check Vittorio's background.

Effingham poured another cup of green tea from the teapot. "What did Ian tell you?"

"Ian messaged that his Grace _Vittorio Amedeo Alberto di Savoia, the Duke of Naples,_ is also working at the Foreign office. He has been controlling the secret deals of Italy with the United States, Great Britain, and France at least for the past ten years."

"Interesting," Lord Effingham murmured as he sipped tea. Then he put into his mouth a small piece of cold cuts - smoked bacon called Schinkenspeck in Austria. "I guess Silvia Dawson and his Grace _Duke Vittorio Amedeo di Savoia_ knew each other pretty well."

"_Il va sans dire (It goes without saying)_." Aylesbury leaned back on the sofa. "Now we see the connection between Vittorio and Silvia. As for the case with the poison when you lost it, it is not necessary hat Silvia had taken it. Think better where you could lose it, Julian."

"I don't know." Effingham rubbed his cheek. "Philippe, you are still going to Milan?"

The Duke of Aylesbury sipped coffee. "I must go in order to become closer with the Duke of Naples. He doesn't know who I am and what I am doing, but I know what he is doing thanks to Ian's information. I am going to meet Ian's agent in Zurich and then go to Milan. Ian will be waiting for me in Milan."

"Are you taking James with you?"

Aylesbury poured himself another cup of coffee. "James will stay here with you," he stated in a matter-of-fact manner.

"It is not necessary, Philippe. I have several people here, including my right hand Aaron Fitzwarren. There are also Ian's people here."

"I don't need James, while you need him here. Moreover, I will be with Ian himself soon. You must watch each breath and movement of both Scarlett and Rhett Butler."

"We will, Philippe."

"Thank you, Julian." Aylesbury looked at the grey ceiling.

"Don't you want something to eat before you depart?"

Aylesbury lifted his eyes to his friend. "I don't have any appetite."

"Of course, after such terrible news."

"_Cela va de soi (Of course)_." Aylesbury shook his head. "Probably, I will have to meet _Benjamin Disraeli, the British Prime Minister and 1st Earl of Beaconsfield_."

"Why?"

"If my suspicion about that French agent who had been in contact with Silvia Dawson proves out, I will have to urgently meet Disraeli. It is highly confidential. I cannot say a word now even to you, Julian, and to Ian. It is so because Disraeli should let me do it. If my suspicions are correct, I will go to London soon to meet Disraeli. Then you, Ian, and I will be working together on the deal."

"I know you have been working with James on something highly confidential in the past years. Not without any reason the number of your trips to British India dropped conspicuously."

Aylesbury sipped some coffee. "You are right."

Effingham looked at the clock on the wall. It was nearly eight in the morning. "Philippe, let's go to the large reception room. James and Aaron must be waiting for us."

"Let's go," Aylesbury said crisply. Then he finished off his cup of coffee and put it at the table. "After the conversation with James and Aaron I will leave." He leapt to his feet and headed to the door.

"And we will relocate to _the Hotel Imperial_ where Scarlett is staying," Lord Effingham said as he finished his breakfast. Then he stood up and followed Aylesbury.

"I will send a note to Scarlett saying that she can use my house as long as she likes. I am sure she will like this idea, especially given that Jasper will appear here in two weeks at most. Scarlett likes Jasper very much."

"Their feelings to each other are reciprocal," Effingham added.

"Indeed."

"Philippe, I hope Scarlett will move to your house because it will ease the process of observation."

"Scarlett will agree. Believe me," Aylesbury said as they were passing the glass-walled vestibule in the direction of the large reception room in the east wing of the mansion.

"I see we have two villains – one in Charleston and one in Europe."

Aylesbury smiled uncertainly as approached the glass door of the large reception room. _"Peut-être oui peut-être pas (Maybe yes maybe no)."_ Then he opened the door and they came inside.

The Duke of Aylesbury left Vienna for Zurich and then for Milan, as he planned, at nine in the morning. At the same time Lord Effingham, his main agent and right hand Aaron Fitzwarren, and Aylesbury's main agent James Breckenridge began to relocate to _the Hotel Imperial_ on _Kaerntner Ring._ They were even lucky to check in the large suite in front of Scarlett's suite and near Rhett Butler's room number, everything on the same floor. It was perfect for their purpose - to track down Rhett and Scarlett's each movement.

As Aylesbury went outside his mansion, he was the open carriage waiting for him in front of the house. He didn't choose for his trip to Zurich his favorite sporty black perch-phaeton with four extravagantly large wheels and very lightly sprung. He had only one phaeton of such a kind in his house in Vienna. Therefore, he was going to travel in the usual open carriage. Aylesbury waved to the coachman that he had made a right choice for the journey. He climbed into the carriage and settled himself onto the plush squabs of the coach. As the carriage began to move, memories again attacked his mind.

Philippe was very angry at what happened in London. It appeared his wife Georgette had overstepped all the possible boundaries as she had begun to pay for the life of Philippe's valet. When he had married Georgette many years ago, he had been a faithful husband and respected her in the very beginning. However, after their second son Morgan was born, Georgette had begun to take lovers among aristocrats. Later she had also chosen lovers among commoners. Now she sank to the level of the Duke and the Duchess's servants – a valet Philippe kept at his house in Chelsea. It was enough. It was even more than enough. Philippe wasn't going to tolerate his wife's sybarite life any longer.

However, Philippe knew that he was partly responsible for Georgette's behavior. He contributed to her decisiveness to take her sweet revenge on him for his indifference and absence of love. When Philippe had proposed to her in 1845, Georgette had been astonished by his intention to marry her. She had thought that Philippe had fallen in love with her at a first sight as there had been no visible advantages for Philippe to marry a woman who had been carrying other man's child. Indeed, Georgette had been very beautiful at her fifteen, and she had known several men before Philippe married her. As time was passing, she had been watching Philippe's indifference and had begun to suspect that her father Jordan and his brother Richard, Philippe's father by adoption, had pressured Philippe to marry her and to pay the debt from the money he had inherited from the Robillards. The worst was that several times Philippe had called Georgette "Elaine" and "my Elaine" in the bed. It had happened when passion and primitive desire for a beautiful woman had overcome him and he had been near his physical release, not clearly understanding what he had murmured. Georgette had remembered it and begun to think that Elaine had been Philippe's true love.

As Philippe had always been treating Georgette with cold, polite indifference and French courtesy in everyday life, she had inferred that her husband had been in love with Elaine. Philippe was lucky that he had called Elaine and not Ellen. As a result, Georgette had always been dreaming of her revenge on Philippe and began to take lovers. Of course, her wanton nature had played significant role as she had loved wicked intimacy before she met Philippe. All the above had resulted in her highly scandalous sybarite life in the ton. And the more tolerant and indifferent Philippe had been becoming, the more scandalous things Georgette had been doing.

As Georgette had begun to take lovers, Philippe had responded with crazy drunken parties with his friends the Earl of Effingham, the Duke of Lauderdale, the Duke of Leeds, the Duke of Sutherland, the Marquess of Salisbury, the Earl of Shrewsbury, the Earl of Lanesborough, the Earl of Dudley, and Baron Montagu of Beaulieu. He will never forget their acts of folly and extravagance. Later young Philippe had taken two mistresses in London and had continued enjoying physical love. Philippe had quickly become the member of the community of _les sauvages nobles _of London. Despite all the scandals around the Ardens, the family had always been accepted everywhere in the ton because of their reestablished fortune thanks to Philippe, his connections, and their old nobility.

Despite having several mistresses, Philippe had never forgotten about his children whom he dearly loved. It was Philippe, not Georgette, who was nursing little Jasper and little Morgan, his young copies in appearance, and later other children when he hadn't been in British India. It was he who smoothed their nightmares and appeased them. His wife had always been interested only in the life of the ton of England, in spending money on various extravagances, in fashion, and, of course, in wicked intimacy with her lovers. The children had always loved Philippe much more than their mother. At times Philippe even thought that the children simply respected Georgette as their mother, but not loved her. Philippe's marriage had always been really miserable.

Throughout his life Philippe slept with many women. As Philippe was far from his Ellen – in England, in France, anywhere in Europe, or in Asia – it was easier for him to withstand loneliness when the alternative was to saddle himself with a mistress, either an expensive whore or a noblewoman leading a flamboyant, Corinthian life. These ladies didn't understand him and couldn't follow his thoughts. They loved his money and adored his handsomeness. As his wife Georgette was leading a flamboyant, dissolute and knock-me-down life of an extravagant, nearly world-weary English aristocrat and as she had many lovers, Philippe didn't dare to keep simultaneously several mistresses even in one city, either London or Paris or any other city. Georgette was an aristocratic whore, and she was indifferent whether he had one or ten women in a month in his bed, he mused.

Philippe's mistresses usually were impoverished noble widows and actresses who needed his money, and he paid for their extravagant lives. Sometimes, he was dealing with other ladies who, like Georgette, were leading a sybarite life in the high society and had their own money. There were several commoners, not actresses, among his mistresses, but it was rather an exception than a general rule. He took with him several of his mistresses even to British India. Philippe never took an innocence of any lady, apart from his beloved Ellen Robillard many years ago. At times, Philippe visited brothels, but it happened rather rarely as he usually had a mistress to satisfy his needs. When he was in Paris, he often visited a well-known _Cora Pearl's_ establishment on Montmartre, but it happened because once in London Philippe saved Cora's illegitimate daughter Mirabelle from disgrace: the girl wanted to become Philippe's mistress in order to have an access to his money, but as he learnt about her innocence, he didn't take her. Instead, Philippe gave some money to the girl and helped her open a small flower shop in the center of Paris.

Suddenly, Philippe remembered one of his French mistresses. She was _Marquis Mathieu de Bréval's_ first cousin _Anaïs Laure Victurnienne de Harlay_, _Baroness de La Chardonnière_. After the death of her husband _Baron de La Chardonnière_ in 1864_,_ Anaïs was left without any money as her husband's fortune had been shipwrecked by his uncontrollable spending on extravagances. Her brothers _Frédéric Philippe Auguste de Harlay, 15th Marquis de Bréval and 16th Count de Cesy,_ and _Barthélémy Christophe François de Harlay,_ _17th Baron de Maule,_ as well as her deceased cousin Mathieu didn't give much money to her on her eccentric, flamboyant life. Now Frédéric and Barthélémy gave little money to her, enough only to support herself. They also paid her children's expenses, including those of legitimate and illegitimate children. Also, _Roger Paul Alexandre Louis de La Rochefoucauld, 3rd Duke d'Estissac_, who had long-held relationship with Anaïs and was rumored to be the father of her two out of four out-of-wedlock children, contributed very much financially to the life of all her illegitimate children. In total she was known to have four illegitimate children and three children born in her marriage to _Baron de La Chardonnière._ All her children were born when she was between fifteen and twenty five years old. Her husband died when she was twenty three years old. She produced out-of-wedlock children even when she was married, while her three legitimate children were born at the early beginning at her marriage, from fifteen to nineteen, when she hadn't been as wanton as she became later. Despite having many children, Anaïs's figure was as slender and well-shaped as it had been in her early twenties. She was flourishing in her good health.

After her husband's death, Anaïs has always lived on gentlemen's money, including that of the Duke of Aylesbury. A beautiful thirty-four-year-old woman, Anaïs was known among the beau monde of Europe as "_the Dukes' widow"_ because she preferred to seduce the Dukes. The son of _Marguerite Marie Gabrielle de Robillard de Bréveaux_, _Duchess de Ventadour,_ in her first marriage, _Patrick Walter Campbell, 8th Earl of Marchmont,_ was Anaïs's only lover who had a rank lower than a Duke.

Anaïs had been Philippe's mistress for four years, but four years ago he broke their relations because he was annoyed with her excessive attention and because of boredom. As Philippe said to Ellen, he indeed didn't have children with his mistresses as he had always been very careful in these things. Anaïs hasn't produced any child since her relations with Philippe began eight years ago. Philippe knew that now Anaïs was in Paris and again was having her lover affair with his old friend _Duke Roger d'Estissac._

When Philippe recently was in Paris, _Duke Roger d'Estissac_ told him that he was thinking about taking a break in his long relationship with Anaïs. As a result, now Philippe considered making Anaïs his mistress again. He had only one mistress now – Denise, a young actress from in Paris. Three months ago Philippe broke his six-month relationship with an impoverished English noble widow Abigail as she annoyed him with constant demands to divorce Georgette and to marry her. Philippe was also bored with Denise as she had several other lovers in addition to him, so that he was thinking about leaving Denise too. He didn't like women who simultaneously had several lovers. Anaïs was another thing, but only relative to Philippe and her beloved _Duke Roger d'Estissac_. When she was with Philippe, she was only with him and even lived in the house he rented for her in London. He even took her in British India, which enraged _Marquis Mathieu de Bréval_. Anaïs didn't sleep even with her special lover _Duke Roger d'Estissac_ when she was with Philippe: she returned to Roger only as Philippe had left her, paying her good fortune upon termination of his relationship.

What was the most interesting and comic about that woman was the fact that she had been Rhett Butler's lover many years ago. Anaïs didn't like Americans in general, and once she told Philippe there had been only one American whom she had been unable to resist. She said that Rhett and she had got acquainted in the beginning of 1862 during one of the card-parties in Paris as Rhett had visited the city in the blockade running times. Being very young, Anaïs was smitten by that dashing American. She was married at that time, but it didn't distract her from her amorous escapades with aristocrats and with Rhett Butler. Each time Rhett came to Paris, he met Anaïs in the privacy of his bedchamber, and their amourette continued for several years.

Another paradoxical issue was that Anaïs had also been the one-time lover of Rhett's brother Ross Butler. Ross and she were intimate in the garden during the masked ball at one of the Parisian mansions. Anaïs said that she had known for sure that the man she had slept with had been Ross Butler. Being completely drunk, that man had introduced himself somewhere between his disjointed rumblings about his love for Europe which he had visited for the first time. Ross and Anaïs's encounter had happened later than Rhett and Anaïs had met each other. Now Philippe recalled this episode. Actually, he could understand what Rhett Butler had been doing in Europe in the blockade running times, but it was difficult for him to comprehend how a notorious alcoholic, whom Ross had become as Philippe had heard, could have been travelling in Europe. Philippe decided to carefully investigate Ross Butler's profile.

Another problem was connected with Anaïs's illegitimate children. Philippe knew that _Duke Roger d'Estissac_ had been the father of her two illegitimate brats. As he learnt about Anaïs and Rhett's affair several years ago, he questioned whether Rhett Butler had been the father of her two other illegitimate children. Anaïs smiled cryptically and answered that it didn't matter. She always tried to keep secret her children's parenthood, and Philippe was sure that _Duke Roger d'Estissac_ had two children with Anaïs only because the boys were the absolute copy of the Duke in their appearance.

Now when Rhett Butler walked back into Scarlett's life again, Philippe remembered this episode. He needed to talk to Anaïs in order to know whether she had any children with Rhett Butler or Ross Butler. Philippe hoped that it hadn't been so. Actually, he considered to return to Vienna after he is done in Milan. He was thinking about taking Anaïs with him to Vienna or, probably, Geneva, if _Duke Roger d'Estissac _had already broken their relations. In addition, he wanted to bring Rhett Butler and Anaïs together, using her as a method to distract Rhett Butler's attention from himself as he was secretly afraid Rhett had remembered young Philippe Robillard, although it was rather unlikely. Moreover, Philippe could always say that the matter was all about general dark attractiveness of the Robillards and, of course, blood relationships as a reason why they resembled each other. Taking Anaïs to Vienna was also a method to look at Rhett Butler from another angle and watch how he would behave in such a scabrous situation as he faces his former lover. Philippe wanted to test Rhett in either case, while Scarlett wasn't supposed to know about that. If he had to protect Scarlett from Rhett Butler again, he would do it, Philippe mused.

It was true that Philippe had many women, but he didn't have emotional bond with them. Nobody gave him such a sense of true comfort, devotion, and love as Ellen, his Elaine, did. She loved him in response, loved despite everything. Dear God, why was fate so cruel to them? Why did they have to suffer loneliness, unhappiness, and crush of their hopes for happy marriage and life together? He didn't know why it had happened with them that their life had been broken into many impalpable pieces so many years ago and then again when Ellen died. At least Ellen's husband Gerald O'Hara was a good, respectable man, and Philippe even sympathized to him, yet envied as he was Ellen's legal husband.

Philippe sat back as the carriage leaped forward. The roads in Austro-Hungary were indeed terrible and bumpy. Now Philippe's mind traveled back to the time of his childhood and early youth. His mother Genevieve had died when Philippe had been eight years old. Later, when he had been ten years old, his father Christophe had tragically died, presumably having committed a suicide. But it wasn't a suicide and later Philippe learnt about it. Being an orphan, Philippe had had to move to Pierre Robillard's grand house, which was all decorated in various variations of pink - light pink, hot pink, pale pink, or pink. The house of Philippe's father had been sold by Pierre who had become Philippe's legal guardian.

Life at Pierre's house had been hell for young Philippe. Pierre hadn't liked him and had always said that his deceased brother Christophe hadn't explained his only son what had been bad and what had been good. Both Pauline and Eulalie hadn't liked the fact that Philippe had lived in their house, and they had openly ignored the boy, even provoking oral conflicts between them. Only Ellen and the servants had been kind to a sad ten-year boy who had just lost his father. At Pierre's house Philippe had felt lonely, as though he had been alone in the world. His heart had been tearing apart as nobody, except for Ellen, had understood and had even tried to understand him.

Ellen had been very kind to and caring of Philippe. She had liked Philippe even before the tragedies that had happened with his mother and father. When Philippe had begun to live with them, their mutual affection had been growing with each day. They had spent much time together under Mammy's caring and patronizing look. They had been talking, playing, and dreaming together. The fact that Ellen's mother Solange had also died made the children's affection to each other closer as they had understood what pain they had endured after the death of their mother.

Young Ellen had adored Philippe's intelligence and love for literature, art, French etiquette, and everything French as she had been a true daughter of her mother Solange, a descendant of French aristocrats. Despite his love for French etiquette, self-indulgence and relaxed manners had become Philippe's hallmarks in the society of Savannah. But it had been so not because he had been wild, as Pierre, Eulalie, Pauline, and others, excluding Ellen, had thought and had said in public – it had been so because of his father and mother's passionate French blood in his veins. Young Philippe Robillard had been a true French nobleman in his mind, his reasoning, and his demeanor. Only Ellen had assumed that he had probably been more suitable for life in the high society of France and, probably, Europe where self-indulgence was a more usual phenomenon. But it had never been so in the Old South. Ellen had seen that Philippe had been a very unusual young man and had been bored with Savannah, and she had supported him emotionally.

Philippe smiled because he remembered everything in details, although many years had passed since that time. The more time Philippe and Ellen had spent together, the more their devotion to each other, appreciation of each other, and even dependence on each other had been growing. All these feelings were reciprocal and had fed each other. And then Philippe had realized that he had truly loved her. It had happened in a year after he had relocated to Pierre Robillard's house. At first he hadn't professed his love to her, but had he known that he would never have another love in his life. It was love forever, like there was love between his father Christophe and his mother Genevieve. Philippe had loved Ellen with a secret feeling of complete devotion for several years, and at thirteen years old he had said those three words to Ellen: "I love you, my dear Ellen, my Elaine." She had smiled at him and had said the same. Years they spent together at Pierre's house later turned into a consuming passion, and Philippe was one of the fortunate few whose love had been returned with equal fervor.

And the elder they were becoming, the more devoted they were to each other. As Philippe had reached sixteen and Ellen fifteen, their love and passion had exploded with the force of a volcanic eruption. Soon they had secretly began to spend nights with each other, and at first even Mammy hadn't known that. Even now, after so many years had passed and Ellen had died, Philippe didn't know whether the old woman had guessed what had been happening between Ellen and Philippe in either Ellen's or Philippe's bedroom. It had been Philippe's initiative to enjoy their love physically as he had been a man at his sixteen and his flesh had demanded physical release. Ellen had loved him in response, and it hadn't been difficult for him to seduce her in his bed. And, God help him, how Philippe loved his Ellen, his dear Elaine, as if those same years they had been apart had never been. Their love had always been too deep, too sincere, too passionate, and even too obsessive at times. They owned each others' bodies, hearts, and souls. Philippe and Ellen's love was a feeling of a lifetime, a love such as the celebrated troubadours of Languedoc had glorified through the ages. And it ended just as all those fabled legends had - in tragedy.

How awful and atrocious Philippe and Ellen's fate was! But although Ellen, his Elaine, wasn't with Philippe in the physical world, she was always in his heart and soul. Why did it happen with Ellen and Philippe? Why did they have to pay for Pierre's sins? Why did they have to be innocent victims of Pierre's evil-doings? And as always, every time Philippe dared to ask himself these particular questions, his mind went blank and unbearable pain smote him.

"My God," Philippe agonized as his gaze fixed on the horses. "Why did that happen in our life, my Ellen, my dear Elaine, my only love, and my kindred spirit?"

Pierre and Solange had also loved each other. Pierre had not only idolized her, but had also apotheosized her after her death. It had been expressed in everything: Solange's portraits had been everywhere in the house, the house had been pink, which had been Solange's favorite color, and her favorite things had been left on their places even after her death. In Pierre's master bedroom there had been a huge portrait of his wife Solange. In addition, there had often been often burning candles at the marble table under the portrait. Only one room in the house hadn't been decorated in pink - the room Philippe had chosen for himself as he had started living at Pierre's house. Actually, he had chosen that room because it wasn't pink, but blue.

And nothing had changed: the house was still pink and Solange's portraits were everywhere as Philippe remembered he had seen that during the commemoration at the house after Pierre's funeral. Nothing changed in the house, except for the furniture being covered from the dust. However, now Pierre was dead, while Philippe was alive – this was the difference. Philippe often questioned how Pierre Robillard, who had loved his wife Solange so much, had been able to ruin his lovely favorite daughter's Ellen life. But the answer was simple – he had needed to hide his terrible misdeeds from the outside world. Thus, he had had to eliminate Philippe. There had been a battle for life and death between Pierre Robillard and Philippe Robillard, and young Philippe had lost.

Philippe stared ahead, a deep trembling spreading through him until he thought he would bellow his pain to the whole world. His mind flashed on the haunting memory of him and Ellen as the children, vowing their deep, all-enveloping, eternal love, swearing to each other that they would always be together and would always love each other. They had sworn to each other that they would never be apart, no matter what could come between them - not even death itself. But Pierre Robillard, a scoundrel of the deepest dye, had made them estranged and had ruined their lives. And then death had parted them in the material world.

As the carriage passed through another bump on the road, Philippe was forced to face reality that was a prison of impossibilities for him as there was no Ellen, while his blatant wife Georgette was near him. There was Silvia Dawson with her secret work for the government of Italy. There was an unidentified French spy. But there also was Scarlett in his life, and he thanked God numerous times that cruel fate had given him an opportunity to have a precious child with Ellen. But he couldn't tell the truth to Scarlett, at least not now. Everything was so complicated in Philippe's life.

The rude voice of Philippe's Austrian coachman again returned him to reality. "_Euer Erlaucht, ich denke, wir werden in Zürich fünf kommen in den Abend (Your Grace, I think we will arrive in Zurich at five in the evening)_," the coachman announced.

"_Danke, Abelard (Thank you, Abelard)_," Philippe answered and was again distracted in his thoughts.

* * *

_The chapters about Philippe are finished. I hope you liked the chapters about him._

_Scarlett and Rhett reappear in the next chapter where he will meet the children and talk to Scarlett. Philippe disappears for several chapters._

_Now I am going to ask the question. Was everything finished in Charleston in the Grace Episcopal Church? Probably, you will see some more mysteries now. I promise that the plot is going to twist soon. It will be interesting. Try to guess who is the villain, but I doubt you will be able to do that._

_I don't even understand why you still haven't asked me about the last dialogue in Chapter 20. If you aren't lazy, look through it._

_Also, take into account that the children's names are now Blanche and Isabelle. I was stupid to choose name Camille that was most often used by men and only in the 20th became so popular for females. Now we have the long names consisting of three Queen's names for each girl (I guess combining three Queen's names could be a rather predictable thing for Scarlett; take into account that I presume that she won't combine two names like it was Bonnie's case, but three is not two). The details about the choice of the names are in Chapter 9. You will see everything in the next chapter. I also made necessary changes through the story. Thank God, so far we didn't have many chapters about the children, but we will have many more chapters now. I am sorry for the changes. I assume as an author I have a right to edit the story and warn you in advance. Again, I am sorry._

_I will try to update soon, although I am not sure that I will be able to update till the end of the next week._

_Thank you. Reviews are appreciated._


	66. Chapter 66

**Chapter 66**

**Scarlett and Rhett: breakfast and meeting with the children**

While the Duke of Aylesbury's carriage was moving further and further from the center of Vienna, Scarlett awoke in her large lonely bed at _the Hotel Imperial_. She awoke with a pounding head, a churning stomach and a strange sense of peace. It was the first time since she left London for Paris and then for London that she didn't feel an aura of doom hanging over her head. Perhaps it was because Rhett had arrived in Vienna and they had talked frankly with each other. She smiled to herself. Yes, that was the reason for her emotional easiness.

Stretching her arms high over her head, Scarlett was laying there thinking of Rhett and how he had looked last night. She smiled as she pictured today's breakfast and his meeting with their children. God, she missed Rhett very much despite everything. It was so difficult not to be able to acknowledge his smiles, not to be able to walk by his side. It was painful not to be able to walk into his arms and know she was home. However, there was also another pain — the pain of all the tragedies that had happened with them when they were together and after the divorce. It seemed these tragedies forever caused an ache in her heart. Having Rhett and not having Rhett was both tormenting for her. What would she do now? Was Rhett's arrival in Vienna the foretelling of God's intention to correct their mistakes of the past? Time would tell, Scarlett mused.

Scarlett's gaze stopped at the clock on the wall. She realized that it was around eight in the morning. She was sleeping even more than she planned yesterday. It was time for her to get up. Taking a deep breath, Scarlett swallowed her sad thoughts and stretched her body across fine pale blue satin sheets. Then she threw back the covers and climbed out of the bed. She rang the bell for Leontine and headed to the dressing room to choose the attire for the day that was very important for her. She wanted something special and at the same time nontraditional, which would not please, but rather amuse Rhett. She favored her new pale yellow dress, especially because of the color because yellow underscored her general paleness. She wanted to underscore especially for Rhett that she was sick and to make him feel guilty for what happened with her in London.

"Madame Scarlett, the breakfast will be served at ten in the morning in the living room," Leontine promised as she came around the bed with Scarlett's dressing gown in her hands.

At the mention of food, Scarlett's stomach churned with a queasy vengeance. "Thank you, Leontine."

"How many people do you expect to have at the breakfast table?"

"Two, Leontine – the gentleman and I," Scarlett replied. "The gentleman will come soon. He is staying in our hotel."

Leontine began helping Scarlett to lace her corset. "I will make necessary arrangements to serve the table for two persons."

"Thank you, Leontine."

"There are two letters on the tray for you, Madame Scarlett."

Scarlett looked over and saw the Duke of Aylesbury's coat of arms on one of the notes – a golden shield with a golden silver lined sail ship on a sea of six wavy stripes gold and silver and at both ends of the ship two ravens. The coat of arms was a ship because _Jacob Richard Arden, 1st Marquess of Aylesbury_, the founder of the noble dynasty who secured the title in the middle of 16th century, was not only a highly-skilled diplomat and a courtier, but also a well-known seaman.

Scarlett asked Leontine to interrupt lacing and went to the table. The notes were folded and sealed. Then Scarlett asked her maid to resume lacing her corset, and Leontine approached her. As Leontine continued her work, Scarlett opened Aylesbury's letter and began to read.

_Dear Scarlett,_

_I managed to know that you are travelling to Vienna from London. Your lawyer in Paris told me about it as he seemed worried about you on account of the poisoning in London._

_I am also very worried about your health. You left London very early, while all you needed was to completely recover from the poisoning._

_The Aylesbury House at Herrengasse 48 is at your disposal, and you can use it as you wish. The servants were notified of your possible arrival. My house will be more convenient than any hotel, even the Hotel Imperial._

_I recommend meeting your grandfather's elder brother and my Uncle Bernard Claude Jacques de Robillard de Bréveaux, 19th Baron de La Fresnaye. His address in Vienna is Leopold-Figl-Gasse 18. These streets are in the same area, and Bernard's house is not far from my one._

_Send a note to Bernard several days in advance as he is a man of great accuracy, order, and punctuality. Bernard will be happy to meet you._

_My son Jasper will be in Vienna in around two weeks. I may also come soon._

_Jasper knows Vienna very well. He will entertain you in the city._

_Please, take excellent care of yourself._

_My best regards, Philippe._

Scarlett smiled as she wrote the note. It was always so that the Duke of Aylesbury had always been helping Scarlett. She liked his offer to spend some time in his house, especially given Jasper's upcoming arrival in Vienna. She knew that Jasper loved Vienna and usually spent at least a month a year here. She smiled as she imagined how Jasper would help her acquaintance with the city and its high society.

As Scarlett read Aylesbury's letter, Leontine was done with her corset. Then she put on her chemise, other undergarments, and a day dress. Finally, she slipped her feet into fine French slippers. As she looked into the mirror, she knew that she got what she wanted – she looked unhealthy and deathly pale as her dress only stressed her sickness. She would let Rhett see what he had indirectly caused. Soon Scarlett finished her dressing and was ready to dismiss Leontine.

Scarlett glanced sideways at Leontine. "Thank you, Leontine. You may go now."

"Alright, Madame Scarlett," the girl said humbly. "I will take the girls to the park now, if you want."

"It is great idea. Take the children and go," Scarlett instructed.

"Madame, the breakfast will be served by Amelie."

"This is fine with me, Leontine. Thank you."

As Leontine left, Scarlett looked through the second letter which was from her Aunts Eulalie and Pauline from Charleston. Scarlett's lawyer _Pierre Jean François Blanick_ re-sent it for Scarlett from France to Vienna. In the letter again Eulalie and Pauline were complaining about the consequence of the Scandal in Charleston. Eulalie was still sick and unexpectedly began to feel even worse after she had fainted in the Church during the wedding that was stopped so scandalously by Annabelle. Scarlett inferred from the note that her sister Carreen had temporarily left the convent in Savannah in order to nurse her sick Aunt Eulalie. Knowing how her Aunts hated the very idea of Carreen's confinement in the convent, Scarlett silently prayed that her sister had left the convent now temporary, but permanently. Scarlett also didn't like that Carreen had joined the convent. Maybe, Eulalie and Pauline would persuade Carreen to leave the convent forever.

Among her correspondence, Scarlett also found the telegram from Henry Hamilton, notifying her that Beau and India were on their way to Europe. Scarlett and India agreed that Scarlett would take Beau to Europe next summer when she was in Atlanta in the autumn of 1875.

Rhett awoke at seven in the morning. He was waiting impatiently to meet his daughters, being anxious how Scarlett would act towards him today. It was ten in the morning when Rhett knocked at the door of Scarlett's room number. Amelie opened the door and invited Rhett inside the suite. The breakfast was suggested to happen in the living room of the suite. As Rhett came inside, Amelie left the room.

As Rhett entered the living room, he saw that the breakfast had already been served and was waiting for him and Scarlett on the table. Rhett's eyes fixed on Scarlett who was wearing a French artistic tight dress of pale yellow color, with a trailing overskirt in Arabesque design and trimmed with a profusion of dark-yellow ruffles and amber ribbons. The dress had a very high neckline, which was so uncharacteristic for her. Rhett noticed that she was wearing short amber lace gloves that weren't suggested to accompany artistic dress. Rhett was also stricken by the so-called _Montespan _sleeve of the dress, which was the upper half full, fastened in a tight band at the elbow and then falling in a Vandyked ruffle over the upper forearm. Scarlett's hair was hanging over the forehead in a fringe, with a large chignon behind and heavy dark-amber bows, so-called "_a la Recamier_" head-dress. Rhett was thunderstruck how deathly pale she looked in this entire dressing ensemble, only her raven hair and slight facial make-up fetching out her overall appearance from looking almost cadaverous.

Scarlett's green eyes swept over Rhett. She remarked that he was dressed in a dashingly elegant three-piece black suit, classic white shirt. A black bowler hat finished his day attire. In general he was looking quite refreshed. As always, she marveled at his undeniable handsomeness, which had only deepened with the years. He was so large in his complexion, in his presence, and, probably, in his spirit.

"Good morning, Rhett."

"Good morning, Scarlett."

A vague smile stirred her lips, and she made a sign to him to sit at the small table with a tray with breakfast for two people. "You look well rested."

Rhett bowed and smiled intriguingly. "I hope you had a good night."

"Yes, I did, Rhett. Thank you," she answered and settled in the chair, being at the opposite side of the table relative to Rhett. "I suggest having breakfast now. Later I will introduce you to our children."

"As you wish," Rhett smiled. He sipped some coffee with evident pleasure on his mocking face.

"Yes, as I wish," she said, underscoring her authority.

"I am startled by your dressing ensemble, darling.

"Why is it so?" Scarlett was also drinking coffee.

"I have never seen you in a dress of so high a neckline, unless it was a mourning dress. Why did you choose this color and design, if I may ask?"

Scarlett smiled sardonically at Rhett, her eyes dancing with fury, flaming in her at the mention of her appearance and poisoning. "I should thank your precious fiancée Silvia Dawson and her blue cooper sulphate for my leanness, partly blemished skin, and ghost-like bleach of my face."

"I am sorry, Scarlett."

"I am glad you are sorry because it was your dear fiancée who did this to me."

Rhett's black eyes expressed genuine concern. "When will you recover completely? What do the doctors say?" Leaning forward across the table, he gently kissed Scarlett's forehead.

The green eyes locked with the black eyes. "Who knows, Rhett? We have passed the stage of death premonition, and I am happy with this. I was intending to visit the doctor here, in Vienna."

"Yes, you must visit a doctor. Your health is very important."

She sipped some more coffee lazily and spread butter on an Austrian breadroll. "As for the design of my dress, it is exclusively fashionable and very new in Paris. Besides, why not the color yellow?"

"You look a little bit uncustomary, but it still has deep charm, my pet." Rhett smiled approvingly at her and sipped more coffee.

Scarlett moved her skirts closer to her. "I know that you are a great expert in female clothing, especially in undressing," she teased.

"Your tongue is very sharp, Madame."

She ignored his comment. "Leontine will come with the children from the park in an hour. We got up at eight in the morning, and I sent Leontine to the park for a morning promenade."

"I am delighted to hear this, my dear." Rhett stared at her warmly. "Thank you."

Scarlett's eyes were half closed, her face bathing in glorious sunshine. "I will leave you tonight as I have a private meeting with an infamous French diplomat."

"Who is this diplomat, Madame de Bréval?" Of course, Rhett realized whom Scarlett had meant.

"It is a private meeting."

"You seem to have a wide range of connections in the European high society, don't you?"

"Yes."

A wide ironic smile animated his swarthy face. "Can you introduce a poor American gentleman to them?"

"Rhett, don't be a clown because it doesn't suit you. You, a poor American? I guess you are one of the richest people in the whole South and in the United States."

A faintly jeering note in Scarlett's voice passed through Rhett's head. He flinched internally. "Maybe, my pet, maybe," Rhett said and smiled mysteriously. "I missed your greediness, darling."

Scarlett looked across the table at Rhett. "Money doesn't bring us happiness, you know."

"I know, darling."

"Over the years I have realized it."

Rhett's face blazed with gratitude and satisfaction. "I am happy I see the old Scarlett in you and without this mask."

Scarlett raised her chin. "Where is your son whom you claimed? Is he in Charleston?"

Rhett's eyes were kind, and he smiled in melancholy. "No, Robert is not in Charleston. He is with my mother in London. I took both of them on our trip, but you escaped from London."

"I had to leave London. I have deals here in Vienna."

"I understand."

"Rhett, bring your son here, to Vienna, together with your mother. Or at least take him to my chateau in Toulouse. He will love the place."

"I didn't take Robert with me in Vienna because I wasn't sure how you would react to his presence."

She looked attentively at Rhett. "You must be with your son now and support him. Poor boy! He has suffered so much! I promise I won't bite him and curse you for hiding the fact of his existence from me."

"Thank you, Scarlett. My mother and Robert decided to stay in London and come directly to Toulouse at the end of the summer. Such long journeys may be wearisome for my mother." Rhett rose to his feet, approached Scarlett, and hugged her.

She winked at Rhett, disentangling from his embrace. "Where are they staying in London?"

Rhett returned to his place. "They are staying at Marguerite's house, my dear. Annabelle and Marguerite proposed this and my mother accepted with gratitude."

"It is very good. Marguerite is an amazing woman. When I was sick, she was nursing me all the time."

Rhett smiled, looking at her with adoration in his black eyes. "I know. I also liked her."

Scarlett's green eyes flashed as she glared right into Rhett's eyes. "Beau and India Wilkes are on their way to Europe. When I was in Atlanta last autumn, we agreed that I would take Beau to Europe in the summer. I received a telegram from them today."

"It is good news, Scarlett. I am glad Beau is coming."

Scarlett remembered Rhett's dislike of Ashley in the past. She wasn't going to tolerate the same from Rhett relative to Beau. "Rhett, I hope that you don't mind that Beau will be here in Vienna because he is Ashley's son."

"I don't mind because I know that Beau is a very good boy, smart and intelligent," he replied sincerely. "My feelings towards Ashley remain in the past, my dear. Besides, Ashley is dead, God rest his soul."

Scarlett signed heavily and closed her eyes in order to compose herself. "I am still blaming myself for Ashley's death because I brought him to Tara to Mammy's funeral."

"It is not your fault, Scarlett."

"It was that damned gang of criminals who shot him."

"It is just fate, darling." Rhett sipped more coffee.

"Nevertheless, I feel that I could probably have done more for him and for Beau," she protested and lowered her head to the plate with scrambled eggs, then added deplorably,

"And you still can."

"I have to take good care of Beau in order to keep my word for Melanie. I plighted faith to look after both Ashley and Beau, but Ashley is dead. I feel like I broke my promise."

"Darling, it is not your fault. Ashley is with Melanie in Heaven now."

"Only that Ashley is now with Melly appeases me."

"Maybe, he has finally found his laidback peace and tranquility, similar to the antebellum time in the South," Rhett admitted, maneuvering her away from the subject of guilt.

A pain slashed in her heart as savagely as a wild animal's fangs as she recalled that Ashley defended Tara and her and died. "I hope so, but nevertheless he is dead and I am alive."

Rhett wanted to stop cultivating sharp self-guilt in her heart. "Haven't you done so much for them? As far as I know from what India Wilkes said on Ashley's funeral to defend you and me in front of the Old Guard, all the Wilkes family has lived off your money in the past two years."

"You are right, Rhett. Despite my absence in the States, I regularly deposited money into Beau's bank account at the National Bank of Atlanta. Moreover, I also spent a lot to cover the liquidity shortfalls on Ashley's mills," Scarlett spoke slowly as if extracting her words from a store of rarely used thought.

Rhett hardly refrained from deeply sardonic smile as he knew the truth about the purchase of the mills by Ashley. "You continued monetary support of the mills after you sold them to Ashley, didn't you?"

"Yes, Rhett, I did it."

_"The Panic of 1873_ in New York caused a great economic slowdown in the States. I suppose that the mills were severely affected?"

"You are correct as Ashley's book of orders contracted at least twice," words of explanation tumbled from her tongue as she poured another cup of coffee from the coffee-pot.

"I see."

"Anyway, I had to put enough money to uphold Ashley's business afloat. However, I would have lost even more if I hadn't sold them, given that I was unable to run the business by myself due to my absence in the States."

"If you know, Scarlett, the depression set off a domino effect of bank failures, numerous layoffs of factory workers, and railroads bankruptcies," Rhett elucidated on the business topic of their discussion, being done with his scrambled eggs. "Even now business continues to experience side effects of what happened three years ago. What is with the mills now, Scarlett? I hope you don't pour money in these sawmills now when investments contracted more than twofold."

She let out a cherishing laugh. "Luckily, I am not doing it now. Henry Hamilton sold the mills to one Yankee."

"It was a wise decision to sell the mills."

"Rhett, I still don't understand why a fool would pay a relatively tidy sum of money for the fragile loss-making business deeply affected by both financial panic and Ashley's everlasting mismanagement."

Rhett stared at her. "The proceeds from the sale of the mills went to Beau's account, didn't they?"

Scarlett raised her chin. "Yes, it is so. I deposited them on behalf of Beau. I also transferred my store on the name of India Wilkes."

"It is good that my money finally went to Beau as the only heir of the Wilkes family," Rhett chuckled.

The green eyes were shooting a sharp glance at Rhett. "What? Your money?"

"My money," he repeated.

"Pray enlighten me."

"My pet, everything is very simple. Ashley bought the mills on my money." Rhett smiled broadly, his white teeth flashing, and his brows went up in a mock. "Miss Melly and I were in collusion."

"What? What?" Scarlett was numb and voiceless, and her pale face contrasted even more sharply with her yellow outdoor dress. She was twitching her left lace wristband nervously.

"Ashley didn't receive the money from someone whom he nursed through a case of smallpox at Rock Island."

"You gave money to him, didn't you?"

Rhett's bottom lip twisted sardonically as he revealed the truth. "I gave the money to Miss Melanie, my pet." He sipped some green tea nonchalantly.

She was furious at him, her eyes looking daggers at him. "How dare you deceive me so unscrupulously? How could Melanie agree for this spectacle you played for me?"

A faintest gleam of triumph glimpsed in Rhett's black eyes. "My darling, I told Miss Melly that I wanted to lend her money to buy the mills. We were talking about Beau and Miss Melly's desire to send him to Harvard and to Europe on a Grand Tour. We also discussed how much you worked on the mills and at that time you were sick after the miscarriage. I am sorry to remind you about that, my pet."

She sipped coffee. "So, you played a role of a heedful attentive family friend and persuaded Melanie that Ashley would make a lot of money out of those mills one day for Beau?"

"That is precisely the accurate conclusion, my dear," he laughed light-heartedly, pouring more green tea.

Scarlett sprang to her feet quickly and stared at him with a furious gaze. "And you called me an actress in your farewell letter! Among us you, not me, are a professional actor!"

"Scarlett, please brace your energy," he warned.

She ignored him, her green eyes flashing in danger. "How dare you lie to me and plot something behind my back?"

"Scarlett, I did it for us," he answered simply and smiled softly.

"You did this to separate me from Ashley! You are… You are… a wretched liar!" Her voice broke off.

"My darling, calm down and finish your coffee. Try also green tea. It is really good," Rhett suggested to defuse tension and poured some green tea to her.

"Rhett, seriously, how can I trust you? I don't like what you have done behind my back." Scarlett inhaled deeply and sank back into the chair. "I spent a lot of money to support those mills."

"You are right as I did this in hope that your infatuation with Ashley Wilkes would fade away more quickly," he announced firmly. "Moreover, in sober fact I even helped you because you couldn't run the mills living in Europe anyway. And you put the money in them for Beau's sake. My pet, you see that I indirectly contributed to the accomplishment of your promise to Melanie."

"Rhett, don't try to justify your actions. Now it doesn't matter. But the fact remains that you deceived me," she snapped carelessly.

"Scarlett, I tried to make us happy. I am sorry if it hurts you," Rhett said genuinely.

Scarlett forced a vague smile on her rosy lips. "I am growing annoyed with this topic."

"Then let's change the theme."

At this time, the door opened and Leontine and Amelie with children entered the room number. When Rhett saw two well-dressed small girls in their nanny's hands, he smiled softly and joyfully. Scarlett approached the door and took Isabelle's right hand and Blanche's left hand. Then she and the girls came closer to Rhett. Leontine and Amelie left as Scarlett waved in order to dismiss them.

Scarlett's green eyes flashed. "Rhett, please meet your daughters Blanche and Isabelle." Her voice was loud and sonorous. She looked down and smiled at her precious daughters softly. Then she kissed them in their cheeks in turn. "Darlings, your daddy Rhett has just returned from a long, long trip. It was a dangerous adventure. I had told you before that he couldn't have joined us earlier. But now he is here with us."

"Hello, daddy! I missed you very much," Blanche cried out cheerfully. "I was dreaming of seeing you."

Isabelle stared at Rhett. "Good day, sir," she said tremulously.

"My darlings, you are so precious to me." Rhett stepped toward them, his eyes shining brightly. "Thank you, Scarlett. I love you, Scarlett. And I love you, my precious Blanche and Isabelle."

"You will love them absolutely, Rhett," Scarlett nearly sung. The girls were smiling, Blanche openly and Isabelle cautiously. "Girls, come to your daddy."

"Come to me, my darlings," Rhett purred. "My trip was long and dangerous. But I will never leave you again. I promise."

"Blanche, go to Rhett. Hug your daddy," Scarlett asked. Isabelle stood rooted at her mother's side.

As Scarlett said it, Blanche rushed to Rhett who took her in his large hands and hugged her tightly. He held her against his fast-beating heart for a few moments. Then he bent his head down and kissed Blanche on her both of cheeks and then on her forehead. As Rhett looked in her bright blue eyes, his daughter giggled. Rhett heart nearly stopped as he watched her. Then Rhett's heartbeat accelerated.

Scarlett observed the sweet family reunion with Isabelle at her side who was keeping silent. At times, the girl's pale green eyes flew to her mother's face in perplexity. Isabelle was a careful, thoughtful child. She wasn't an active hoyden, like Scarlett and, probably, Rhett were in their childhood.

Scarlett's heart was thumping so hard that she was having a hard time to breathe. "I know what you feel, Rhett. Blanche is exactly like our Bonnie. She is like her twin, especially her beautiful blue eyes."

"It is fantastic, Scarlett! She is so much like she…" Rhett whispered tenderly.

Rhett avoided calling the name of their deceased daughter Bonnie. He lifted Blanche in his hands making her on the level of his large swarthy face, which caused the child to start giggle uncontrollably. "Blanche, you are an adorable beautiful girl. I love you, my dear," he said to the child. Then he put Blanche on the floor and looked at his second daughter. He said to her: "Isabelle, don't be afraid of me, please. I love you very much. I love you and Blanche."

Isabelle even didn't blink, her pale green eyes fixed on Rhett's head. The girl's smile faded away. It was evident she was watching Rhett. "I hope your journey was pleasant, sir," Isabelle said. This child was very incredulous.

The next several hours Scarlett and Rhett spent with the children in the living room of the suite. Rhett was fascinated by both girls, watching even twiggy, stealthy changes in their behavior and mimics. He absolutely agreed with how Scarlett characterized to him his daughters. Looking at vivacious, nonchalant, stubborn Blanche, he remembered Bonnie, and his heart collapsed in pain for the loss. He also noticed that Isabelle was observing him with interest and was evidently a much more careful child than trustful Blanche. Rhett's face was shining with absolute happiness and delight as he was talking to his daughters, kissing them, and playing with them. His black eyes were shining brightly, radiating with the peaceful, serene light, pride for his offsprings, and unconditional love. Rhett absolutely adored them.

Scarlett saw that Rhett had considered his daughters to be marvelous, unique, and not to be compared with other brats. The same was with Bonnie whom Rhett considered a unique child. Despite meeting his children for the first time, it was evident Rhett loved the girls wholeheartedly, unconditionally, and immaculately. Scarlett felt relieved as all her concerns and fears about Rhett's acceptance of his parenthood had faded away. At first she was afraid that Rhett wouldn't be bonded with any new child as much as he was with Bonnie. Now when she saw Rhett's sincere joy and happiness, she comprehended that her former husband had been overmastered by love for his daughters.

Scarlett hardly had a chance to draw a breath of relief before Isabelle crawled onto her lap and, latching her arms tightly around her neck. Isabelle was a little afraid that a new man had come to them, so that she was clinging to her mother.

"Isabelle, I love you so much," Scarlett purred to her daughter's ear.

"Mother, I love you," the green-eyed Isabelle said.

"Darling, don't be suspicious of your daddy. He loves you very much. Please try to talk to him," Scarlett persuaded the child on her lap.

Isabelle's green eyes turned more pensive. "I will talk to him, mother."

A smile of relief seemed to ease Scarlett's features upon Isabelle's answer. "Thank you, my love."

"Blanche and Isabelle, I have missed you so much," Rhett announced with a broad smile on his swarthy face as he kissed Blanche who smiled in response. "I love you, my precious."

"You are very nice, daddy. I like your smile," Blanche supplied. Isabelle was keeping silent.

"Blanche apparently likes you, Rhett," Scarlett remarked.

"She is also like Bonnie." Sadness was creeping into Rhett's voice, but it quickly faded away as he looked at his daughters.

Scarlett nodded. "I know."

What Rhett said was true. Blanche who had been born before Isabelle was so much like Bonnie that Rhett's breath had been taken away the moment she had seen her. The color of her skin was like his worn. Her eyes were blue without any pigmentation either in the iris or in the ocular fluid. Blanche had the same eyes as Bonnie, his mother Eleanor, and Gerald O'Hara had. His sister Rosemary had blue eyes of a lighter color, nearly pale azure. Blanche had Rhett and Scarlett's jet-black hair. And she also had vivacity and energy, which were so typical for them. Blanche was talking to Rhett as though she had known him for many days and not had just met him this morning.

Isabelle was very different from her sister, both in her appearance and in her character. Her eyes were green, but the hue was very different from Scarlett's green eyes. If Scarlett's eyes were pale green without any hazel, at times temporary changing color if she had very seriously enraged or if she had been in the violent passion, Isabelle's eyes were much darker. Her eyes weren't emerald or jade green or spring green, they were midnight green. Another interesting moment was that the girl's hair was naturally ash blonde, and it was very dark ash blonde. Her skin wasn't swarthy like Rhett's – the girl had Scarlett's magnolia-white skin. It seemed there had been no vivacity in the child: Isabelle was thoughtful and meditative as she was watching Rhett beneath her lowered eyelids. And she was not simply watching, she was memorizing and studying. There was something sublime, nearly ambrosial in Isabelle: the child was very exquisite and nearly subtle.

"The girls are so different," Rhett commented. "Both in their appearance and in their character."

"But they love each other every much," Scarlett added in a rush. "They cannot be parted for a long time because they will start missing each other and will feel distressed."

"I understand, Scarlett. They are twins."

"In contrast to Blanche, Isabelle is a calm, contemplative child, but you will see her endless stubbornness later," Scarlett commented. "She will watch you attentively and study you thoughtfully."

"I see this," Rhett drawled. "What I don't understand is how she could have such dark ash blonde hair and such midnight green eyes."

"What do you mean, Rhett?" She raised her voice.

"I am just stating the fact."

"You…" Scarlett's voice failed her. Her green eyes challenged him. "Do you want to say that the children are not yours?"

"Scarlett, I didn't want to say that," Rhett objected. "Please calm down. I didn't mean that. I simply said that Isabelle hadn't taken much form both you and me in appearance, apart from some details, like your skin."

"Never say something like that! Everybody is unique, and if Isabelle has ash blonde hair and such dark green eyes, then God wanted her to have it," Scarlett said strictly.

"Isabelle is very beautiful," Rhett tried to appease her. He forced a smile. "I love both her hair and her unusual eyes."Scarlett was about to move away, telling herself wretchedly that there was nothing more to be said between them. Then she turned to him, pulled closer to him, and said in his ear: "If you remember the twins Geoffroy and Armand, my third cousins, whom I introduced to you during that art damned event at the National Gallery of London, you must know how different they looked: Armand with his very light ash blonde hair and very pale green, nearly transparent, eyes, and Geoffrey with his very dark brown hair and very dark brown eyes. They are… were twins and… were… so different in their appearance. It is such a pity Geoffroy died so young." The last words were not said in a soft half whisper, but were hissed in a hoarse, low buzz.

"I remember those twins," Rhett answered gravely. Talking about these twins meant that they would remember Silvia Dawson because it was she who had killed Geoffroy. Rhett didn't want that.

Scarlett bent her head down to him. "Then never make any strange hints. I will never tolerate this," she whispered in his ear. Then she turned her head and glared at the children. She immediately smiled.

Rhett's eyes followed Scarlett's. He fixed his eyes at Isabelle. "Isabelle, come to me, my darling," he asked softly. She turned her head and stared at Rhett. The child didn't answer, but her eyes were still focused on his face.

"She will not come to you, daddy," Blanche said joyfully. "She needs much time to get accustomed to you."

As Blanche ran back to Scarlett and Isabelle, Scarlett bent down and kissed Blanche. "My love, I am happy that you greeted your father."

Blanche nodded. "I am happy too."

Isabelle was no longer on Scarlett's lap. She was sitting on the sofa near her. Isabelle smiled with the same wistful smile as she was searching for her mother's hand. As she found it and Scarlett squeezed it and looked at her daughter with longing in her also green eyes, Isabelle's smile turned from wistful to happy.

"Mother, you are so beautiful," Isabelle purred. Then Isabelle looked at Rhett and smiled mysteriously.

"Isabelle is so thoughtful. She gave to me such an enigmatic smile," Rhett said shortly.

Scarlett shook her head. "I warned you."

Rhett rubbed his cheek. "I cannot understand whom Isabelle is taking after. Apparently, she behaves like neither you nor me in childhood."

He approached the sofa where Scarlett and the children were sitting. The he swept Isabelle up into her arms. "Oh, Isabelle, how wonderful it is to have you in my hands."

"Sir," Isabelle murmured in the end in a very low voice. Then she narrowed her green eyes to slits and glared at Rhett, again suspiciously. Then she smiled meditatively.

Scarlett reached up and pulled Blanche's thumb from her small mouth. "Blanche is absolutely stubborn and has unladylike manners despite all my efforts to do otherwise."

"No, I am a lady," Blanche giggled and nested on Scarlett's lap. "I am not stubborn."

"No, you are stubborn, darling, like me," Scarlett objected with a playful smile.

"What does it mean?" Blanche inquired.

"When you grow a little, I will explain you, dear," Scarlett replied.

At the same time, Isabelle pulled back from Rhett and slowly, her chin high, made her way back to Scarlett. She took her place on the sofa and began to watch her sister who ran from Scarlett to Rhett. The girls changed their places.

"Look what Blanche is doing!" Rhett exclaimed as Blanche put her small palm on his cheek and cuffed him slightly.

Scarlett's eyes flew to Rhett's face. "Rhett, Blanche is just trying you as you are a new face for her," she admitted, looking at the giggling child. "In contrast to Blanche, Isabelle will never do it." she paused and looked down at Isabelle. "She will become a great-great lady with will power of iron."

"I see that they are very different," Rhett agreed.

"Rhhh… Rhet… Rhett…" Isabelle tried to say and finally succeeded. Rhett raised his head and smiled at Isabelle, his eyes were kind.

Rhett began to imitate Isabelle's unsuccessful attempts to pronounce his name. Blanche giggled, Isabelle's face paled.

"Rhett, stop it. She doesn't like it," Scarlett warned.

Rhett stopped. "I see."

Scarlett's green eyes were piercing Rhett's face. "Love at a first sight, Rhett?" she mocked him.

"Yes, my dear. I am over head and ears in love with Blanche and Isabelle," Rhett said with genuine gratitude and adoration, leaning over Isabelle. "They are amazing! Thank you for them, Scarlett."

"I am glad that you like them. They apparently like you too, Rhett."

* * *

_Please take into account that the children's names are now Blanche and Isabelle. I was stupid to choose name Camille that was most often used by men and only in the 20th century became so popular for females. Now we have the long names consisting of three names of the Queens for each girl – Isabelle Marguerite Caroline and Blanche Charlotte Henriette._

_I guess combining three names of the Queens could be a rather predictable thing for Scarlett; take into account that I presume that she won't combine two names like it was Bonnie's case, but three is not two). The details about the choice of the names are in Chapter 9. I also made necessary changes throughout the story._

_The choice of names will also be explained by Scarlett to Rhett later._

_I hope you have enjoyed this chapter._

_I want to thank HelenSES for editing this chapter and the next chapter. She is a great person! Thank you very much, Helen!_

_If not Helen's help, I don't know when I will be able to finally edit and update the chapter because I am trapped in my everyday life now._

_As usual, reviews are appreciated._


	67. Chapter 67

**Chapter 67**

**Indian surprise for Scarlett in the corridor**

When the children were settled for their afternoon nap, Scarlett and Rhett remained alone in the living room. They were sitting on the sofa, close to each other. Being quite estranged from Rhett at that moment and absorbed in her thoughts, Scarlett kept silent, while Rhett watched her.

As Scarlett was watching Rhett and the children's interaction, Scarlett felt as though the strongest fire was burning her inside. However, as Rhett was there in Vienna, and suddenly she didn't feel afraid. Scarlett felt that fire burning her inside. She was even fascinated by that great fire, and she didn't know why it had been so. It was as though she had felt the heat of it even where she had been now – in Vienna close to Rhett. And it was not only the heart radiating from Rhett's relative proximity to her. She imagined she had seen how greedy tongues of flame were shooting up triumphantly, capturing and burning everything around her. She wasn't afraid, she said to herself. As the loud voice of the fire pushed everything out and filed her heart, she even felt some calmer. She inhaled deeply. Her right hand was pressed to the area of her heart, as if her blazing heart might give the answer to her searing how to pulls away her heartache and her ever-shattering fear for the future.

The Scarlett remembered Annabelle's favorite line from Shakespeare: "_One fire burns out another's burning_." And it was so right in her case. It was so right in the case with her love for Ashley Wilkes: her love for Rhett, so suddenly made clear to her on the day of Melanie's death, had quenched her foolish, childish infatuation with Ashley, leaving only kindness and friendship in her heart. Her love for Ashley was like glowing gems amid the dying ashes, while her love for Rhett was like the strongest fire, captivating and burning everything on its way. But now when despair and confusion was suddenly bringing her to the verge of madness again, her emotional distress could also be compared to the strongest fire of nagging pain and profound sorrow in her heart and soul. And what fresh fire would come to extinguish all her pain and misery and agony? She couldn't let that despair and fear destroy her, as lightning destroys the tree it strikes. Scarlett needed another fire. Now she had Rhett in Vienna, and there were many different tasks for her. Scarlett was now agonizing how to quench the fire of agony and despair and to blow up the new fire, the fire that will save her from misery. Suddenly, she shivered as she realized what could save her - her love for her children could become such a fire for her for the moment. She couldn't completely open her heart to Rhett, but the love for her precious daughters Blanche and Isabelle would quicken the new fire in her heart – the fire of motherhood's love and happiness.

Now Scarlett was thinking how good she can spend time in Vienna with Rhett. Now, when Rhett was here and they had achieved their certain transitional truce, they would probably go to some historical places of the city, to the Grand Opera of Vienna, have dinners together with Rhett and their children, and be involved in many other unforgettable activities. Scarlett had a great feeling of relief because now all the cards were open and all the masks were removed. She also felt very happy with Rhett's reaction to their daughters because it was the moment she had always dreaded wholeheartedly due to Rhett's unwillingness to have more children, but everything turned out to be better when she had initially expected, at least for now.

Rhett was the first to break the tense silence. His well-modulated Charlestonian drawling voice returned her to reality.

Rhett stared at her. "Scarlett, I want to underscore that I didn't mean something bad and ugly when I remarked that Isabelle hadn't took much after you and me."

She smiled neutrally. "Thank you for clarification, Rhett." Then her face turned thoughtful.

"What are you thinking about?"

"I was thinking about the children. Blanche has exotic, unconventional beauty. In contrast to her, Isabelle has a classical beauty, like Annabelle does," Scarlett enlightened. "Isabelle will be a very beautiful lady when she grows up. She will be a true French noblewoman."

"I agree," Rhett supplied. Then his gaze turned pensive. "Annabelle is indeed classically beautiful, but it is a fatal, cold beauty. Unlike Annabelle's, Isabelle's beauty is and will be natural and warm," he added.

Scarlett gave a reproachful glance to him. "Annabelle is one of the most beautiful women I have ever met. Among my coevals, Annabelle and Cécile de Robillard have always been considered to be the most beautiful among the Robillards and in the high society of Paris, if not France. In the South of France, Noëlle de Robillard has always been an epitome of beauty and aristocracy. You will get acquainted with Noëlle if you come to Toulouse."

"Scarlett, I don't know those names that you have mentioned now."

"Rhett, do you mean Noëlle and Cécile?"

"Yes."

Scarlett laughed. "Later I will explain to you everything in details. There are very many Robillards, and the genealogy is very sophisticated." She glanced at him, the green eyes hard and unfathomable. "But you are right that although Annabelle's beauty has always been head-turning, it is a cold beauty, which, I think, is a result of her Scottish blood."

Rhett looked astonished. "Annabelle has Scottish roots, doesn't she? I thought she is the pure French."

"Not the pure French. She is half French, half Scottish. Her mother Gwendolyn was a daughter of the Scottish Earl."

Rhett's face brightened up. He smiled. "Now I understand why at times Annabelle looks like a statue of a Greek Goodness, but a cold, mysterious, beautiful Goodness. I used to think that it is the result of all the tragedies in her life."

"I assume that it is the result of the mixture of Scottish and French blood, as well as the influence of those dreadful tragedies," Scarlett itemized. "The grey eyes and dark blonde hair aren't the part of the Robillards' dark attractiveness. Another fine example of half Scottish and half French blood is Marguerite's son _Patrick Walter Campbell, 8th Earl of Marchmont_, whom you met in London."

"Assuredly." Rhett nodded and glanced at Scarlett with longing. "Scarlett, I think Isabelle's beauty will be a classical warm beauty, while Blanche will be more exotically beautiful," he summed up.

"Rhett, we can see these traits in them even now when they are so small."

Rhett smiled broadly, yet a little sadly, his teeth luminescent under his small black mustache. "Yes," he said. His tone became softer. "Scarlett, our children are wonderful. Thank you very much for this marvelous morning."

"I am delighted to hear this, Rhett."

"A long time has passed since I was so happy and in peace. Even if it sounds strange after having so many losses, I feel happy today."

Scarlett glanced away. "I promise I will do everything to help you make leeway in your relations with our daughters. I won't fight with you when we are with them," she committed wholeheartedly.

Scarlett knew what their daughters had meant for Rhett. It was very terrible to lose so many children, both living and unborn, as she and Rhett lost. Now when she saw how Rhett's face had lightened up each time he hugged the girls, she felt a caressing balsam filling the wounds of her and Rhett's hearts.

"Thank you, my pet," he said heartily.

"You are welcome, Rhett," she said with a smile. "By the way, I am going to move to the Duke of Aylesbury's house on _Herrengasse_ in the next two days."

"Again the Duke of Aylesbury…" he muttered in an unpleasant tone.

Scarlett flinched. Her smile was gone. "Rhett, if you are intending to have good relations with the Robillards, including myself, then never talk about Aylesbury in this tone. He is one of the Robillards, and he is very loyal to the Robillards as his family. He is esteemed and loved by many Robillards, especially after he, Jean-Baptiste de Robillard, and Jules de Robillard had saved many Robillards from guillotine in 1871, in the time of the bloody _Paris Commune_."

A bite to his voice, Rhett remarked: "You don't have to remind me of Aylesbury's high status - I am well aware of it, as well as of his coldness, his dispassionateness, and his arrogance! Each time I came to London in the past ten-fifteen years, I have heard about him."

Scarlett swallowed uncomfortably, damning Rhett's unfortunate choice of words about Aylesbury. "Such a mocking, even scornful tone is even more unacceptable," she remarked.

"Scarlett, you are talking about him as if he means something to you," Rhett admitted.

Scarlett was delighted - Rhett was obviously jealous of the handsome, rich, infamous Duke of Aylesbury. Her lips curved in an ironic smile. "Is it jealousy?"

"No," he replied without a shadow of hesitation. But he lied.

A twinkle suddenly leaped to Scarlett's eyes and a mocking smile was on her lips. "If I didn't have a feeling for the most infuriating man in the world, I would look at exactly such a man as Philippe is. I think he is a fine example of the best qualities among the aristocrats, although he is not ideal. When Mathieu introduced me to Philippe, I didn't notice how I found myself responding to Philippe's considerable charms. I always feel unusual calmness, even peace, when close to him."

Rhett's eyes rounded. "Philippe?"

Scarlett gave a nod. "Yes."

"Are you are addressing to him as Philippe?" he inquired.

She smiled victoriously. "Yes, both in private and in public."

Rhett shook his head in disbelief. "This Duke is very formal and cold, and this fact is very well-known."

"It is not so with me. But you are right that Philippe is a very selective, reserved gentleman." She paused, thinking whether she should say what she wanted to say. Then boldness won and she went on. "In addition, Philippe is a true gentleman. I bet he would never divorce his wife, despite her scandalous life."

Rhett ignored her acid-tongued comment. Instead, he put on his usual nonchalance and asked: "Hasn't the Duke of Aylesbury fallen in love with you?"

Her heart blossoming, Scarlett shook her head in negative response. "No," she said. "At least, not as a man loves a woman. Philippe simply likes me, as he likes other Robillards, perhaps, a little more."

Rhett sighed. "I hope so," he admitted.

"I am leaving soon. As I said, I have a scheduled meeting with a French diplomat," she said. There were confidence and determination in her eyes. "You may stay here, Rhett."

"Thank you, Scarlett."

Scarlett took her purse and headed to the door. She opened the door of her suite and went out to the corridor. Her breath shortened and a bone-chilling fear slithered through her mind, at first not paralyzing her. She stood rooted in horror. Her eyes grew wider and wider, her lips parted, her mouth turned dry. Right in front of her on the floor there was a snake - the world's venomous snake. The skin of the snake was bluish-black in color with white narrow crossbands. The snake's head was narrow and flat, neck hardly evident. The body was cylindrical, tapering towards the tail. The tail was short and rounded. She snake's wasn't more than one meter in its length, and it didn't seem active. A white preocular spot was also present: upper lips and the belly were white. But Scarlett didn't notice these details – she was in profound numbness as bloodcurdling terror stole upon her. All her essence had been petrified horror, and she was wholly beyond fear and gasps and groans. She had gone astray.

It was a dreadful picture with a poisonous snake impassively lying on the floor. Scarlett only saw that the snake was not long and that it had dark skin. She was in cold sweat, fear seized her body, and her heart skipped several beats. She thought that she was going to die on the spot. Paralyzing pain shot to every part of her, almost taking her down, and in a flash she saw the ending of her life. She stood frozen and simply stared at the snake in abject horror while a snake was going to attack her. Her mouth went dry with fear and her larynx grew numb, she couldn't even scream. The air around Scarlett was thin and stale. Her lungs struggled for her next breath.

But Scarlett was not a woman to take unprovoked abuse and then meekly offer up the other cheek. As her initial wave of surprised vulnerability and utter horror left in a heated rush, the cold-blooded necessity of survival took over. Scarlett bounced as far as she could, away from the krait that didn't change her location for those few instances. The snake continued to be impassive. It even seemed that it was simply sleeping in front of Scarlett's door. However, as she moved, the snake also began moving. Scarlett's heart collapsed.

Suddenly, an unknown man appeared from the corner of the corridor. He had something in his hands. He sharply threw a large rug on the krait and began to roll it down in there. As he was done with his task, he cast a compassionate look at rooted Scarlett with her vitreous dark green eyes. His gaze raked her from the toes of her boots to the tip of her bonnet.

"Madame, please don't be so shocked," a man said. "This is my snake. It is not poisonous, I assure you. I am sorry for some misunderstanding and for the accident, but it wasn't going to attack you. Please believe me."

"I… I… I…" Scarlett stifled a hysterical giggle, and her eyes widened more in fear, her mouth open.

"Madame, I am sorry…" the main said again. He didn't come closer to her.

"I am fine… I must go…" Scarlett muttered under her breath. "I must… go…"

"It is a wise decision, Madame," a man declared and smiled nonchalantly. "Just go. My snake needs to rest. I am sorry if it frightened you."

"I am fine, Monsieur," Scarlett replied in a low, breathy, far away voice. "Please watch your snake because I don't want to see her in front of my door again."

"Of course, Madame." A man laughed merrily. "Have a good day."

Scarlett didn't look at him anymore. Avoiding his eyes, she backed up toward the door. She rushed downstairs to the lobby of the hotel. Frightened to the tips of her toes, she just wanted to hurry out of his sight and away from the awful krait.

Scarlett didn't see how that man with the krait wrapped in a rug went inside another suite in front of Scarlett's room number. He called for his friend Aaron and Aaron's patron the Earl of Effingham who appeared from the living room of the suite. The man who saved Scarlett was James Breckenridge, the Duke of Aylesbury's friend and confident and his best agent. James was pressing tightly the rug with his two large hands.

"Julian, Aaron, I have an Indian krait in my rug. Please give me aconite to spray the krait with it. We must kill it," James roared. "It is urgent!"

"An Indian krait wrapped in the rug?" Effingham's eyes grew wide. He had been accustomed to poisonous snakes since the time he and Philippe had arrived in Calcutta for the first time. In Asia they had learned many things how to avoid and, if not possible to avoid, meet and challenge dangers from the poisonous snakes. But to have an Indian krait in Vienna was very exotic.

James screwed up his face. "Damn this snake! I am lucky it is the daytime and it is impassive."

Effingham looked at him in disbelief. "Are you sure that it is an Indian krait, James?"

"Julian, damn you, I am absolutely sure!" James cried out in irritation. "Please prepare aconite. More quickly!"

"James, please give me three minutes," the Earl of Effingham replied in a rush.

"Aconite will help if the snake is sprayed by the poison and swallows some aconite inside. I agree that we must use the poison for the snake," Aaron stated confidently, his white teeth luminescent. "We will kill her now."

"If we behead the krait by an axe or a sword, some poison would sluice on the floor," Effingham commented. "Using poison is more rational."

Aaron nodded. "You are right, Julian."

"Poison is a more elegant method of murder," James remarked.

"How positively diabolical," Effingham murmured. It sounded like a stray bullet that could be linked back to no one.

Lord Effingham cast a quick glance at two men in the corridor of the suite and rapidly approached the table in the corner of the living room. He took rubber gloves and put them on. Then he fetched a fresh white linen handkerchief from the pocket of his elegant white jacket. A handkerchief was necessary to defend him from the toxicological agent in the poisons he was going to use. He strode up to another table near the window and took two large non-transparent flacons. He also prepared a large empty glass. One of the flacons contained the infamous murderous aconite and another one was with another toxic poison - hydrogen cyanide.

The Earl pressed his handkerchief to his nose by his left hand and continued working by his right hand. Effingham leaned forward and poured fresh water from the jug, which he took from the same table, to a glass. As a result, half of a glass was filled with fresh water. Then he gripped the flacon with aconite, opened it, and poured slimy white liquid into the glass with water, so that around eighty percent of the glass was now filled. Then he tackled another flacon with hydrogen cyanide and poured a little into the glass. Now the glass was nearly full. Then he took a spoon and began to mingle water with aconite. As the mixture was done, aconite and cyanide dissolved in water.

"Please, Julian, more quickly," James half pleaded. "This creature is impassive in the rug, but we must kill it right now. It is very poisonous."

"I know," Julian said. "Wait."

"Indian krait is very poisonous. This snake is of special concern to human beings as it is several times more deadly than any common cobra," Aaron commented.

"Aaron, I know this," James cried out. "Julian! Julian!"

Effingham didn't look at him, continuing his work with the poison. "I am almost done. Please be patient. Wait another minute."

Lord Effingham closed the glass by the two napkins at the top to prevent possible evaporation. He accelerated his steps as he was going to his bedroom. At the doorway he glanced around and saw his bag with private things on the bed. As he made his way to the bed, he extracted a sprinkler and some fishing gear from his bag. Then the Earl of Effingham returned to the living room of the suite and walked back to the table. He poured the water with dissolved poisons into the sprinkler and shut it. Then he shook it several times.

"James, Aaron, I am done," Effingham announced.

Aaron sighed in relief. "Thank God."

There were drops of sweat on James's forehead. "Julian, please give me that damned poison."

The Earl of Effingham appeared at the doorway. "I am here," she said. Then he threw the fishing gear to Aaron. "Aaron, James, do you remember how we did that in India?"

"Yes," they said in unison.

"You must unwrap the krait and put it into this fishing gear. Otherwise this creature may begin moving," Effingham commanded. "I will spray the poisonous water over the krait's body as soon as you unfold the rug and put it into the fishing gear. When the krait swallows the poison, it will convulse and die." Then he approached them and gave them two fresh handkerchiefs.

James raised his brows. "Why do we need handkerchiefs?"

"I added hydrogen cyanide into the mixture. I am not a chemist, but I know for sure that this murderous mixture will kill the krait quicker than usual aconite," Lord Effingham said.

"Thank you, Julian," Aaron's voice resonated.

"Great idea to add hydrogen cyanide," James commented. "This is a brilliant idea. Philippe has always done the same."

Effingham gave them a reassuring smile. "Certainly. Philippe and I had worked in India so many years together. Trust me, guys, it will work perfectly well and kill the krait."

James and Aaron began to unfold the krait from the rug. Then they threw a fishing gear on the snake to prevent it from creeping somewhere. As they were done and the snake was trapped in the fishing gear, the Earl of Effingham stepped forward and began to spray the krait through the spots in the fishing gear. His left hand pressed a handkerchief to his nose and his lips. Aaron and James did the same. An instance ago the krait was moving and in another instance it began to squirm and to twine in dreadful convulsions. The creature was no longer moving and was no longer preparing to attack its struggling prey.

They were lucky that it had been during the day when India krait was known to be passive, in contrast to night. During the day Indian krait is usually sluggish and rolls its body into a loose coiled ball, keeping its head well-concealed. However, it was known that an Indian krait, when confronted, usually coils up with head concealed, its body flattened, and will make jerky movements. If attacked aggressively, it was possible that the krait will try to escape and avoid any sort of confrontation. If provoked, an Indian krait can be aggressive and attack even during the day. This was the reason Lord Effingham ordered to put the snake into the fishing gear. He acted in the same way that they had been taught at the Foreign office and how he and Aylesbury had acted many times. It was a habit to have a fishing gear with him even in Europe. "Call it a spy's passion," Effingham usually answered when his agents asked him why he had always had some fishing gears with him in Europe. Now Effingham's foresight helped him very much.

After being sprayed by the mixture of lethal poisons, the krait was no longer ready to attack – it convulsed for several minutes and eventually died.

Effingham stared at the krait in the gear. "It is dead."

"Yes, it is," James said as he bent down and checked.

"Bloody hell! This was a worthwhile spectacle!" Aaron let out an engaging laugh.

James hesitated and shook his head, not knowing quite what to say.

The Earl of Effingham raised his brows in question as he watched his companions closely. "Glad or disappointed?"

"Of course, glad," Aaron snapped and smiled. His eyes flew to the krait on the floor.

James shrugged, and, leaning forward, cast a loathsome glance at the krait on the floor. "In all fairness, I am happy it is dead. But we saw a lot of Indian kraits in Southeast Asia. It is nothing new."

Effingham's blue eyes flickered. "Yes."

"We have seen many such reptiles in India and Burma," Aaron agreed.

"We are lucky that there is no other krait here," James commented.

Aaron glanced at him with silent question. "Why?"

"The Indian krait is believed to possess an exceptional memory. According to a myth, the picture of the killer of Indian krait stays in the eyes of the snake, which is later picked up by the partner and is used to hunt down the killer for revenge," James replied calmly. "Philippe told me about that."

Effingham shook his head. "It is truth. I have heard about it."

Aaron stared at him in terror. "God! I will take that poisonous creature from here."

"Wait, Aaron. The krait is dead. You will do it later. Let's go to the living room," Effingham offered.

They made their way back to the living room and then to the bathroom near Effingham's bedroom. As they washed their hands, they returned into the living room. Effingham poured out three glasses of whiskey for everybody. Then he settled himself on the sofa.

"Well then," Effingham began. "James, did you find the krait near Scarlett's bedroom?"

James shook his head. "Exactly. Madame Scarlett was shocked when she saw the krait. I quickly put the rug on the snake and told her that it was my snake. I made a bad joke from the situation. I didn't know what else to say in order not to make her panic and go to the police. We don't need it. I hope I didn't overstep the boundaries, Julian."

"James, you acted perfectly right," Effingham asked softly. "Scarlett was very frightened, wasn't she?"

James smiled broadly. "Julian, she was as pale as a ghost. She was paralyzed."

"Poor Madame Scarlett! This is such a dreadful experience," Aaron condoled.

Aaron sipped whiskey. "I hope she won't go to the police."

"Rest assured she will not. She will just complain in the lobby," James assumed.

"If Scarlett goes to the police or does something we cannot admit, I will have to meet her," Effingham said. "But before we are doing something, we have to contact Philippe."

James sipped whiskey. He swept his eyes across the room. "I have received new information from our messenger."

Effingham raised his brow. "What is it?"

"Richard had confirmed that Silvia Dawson had been an Italian government agent," James reported. "Moreover, in the last years she used to work for a very dangerous French agent who had tremendously harmed the British Crown. Silvia sold to him some secret information. Now we know the spy's nickname."

"Holy Mackerel!" Effingham cursed. "In my heart I hoped that Philippe's suspicions wouldn't prove out."

"Holy Hell!" Aaron hissed though clenched teeth.

Lord Effingham slashed half of the glass. "It means that the situation is rather hazardous as we have Silvia's messenger in Charleston and one dangerous villain in Europe."

Julian felt very worried because now the case was very acute: he didn't know for sure how he lost the secret murderous poison "_invisibilis mors_" in Latin or "_invisible death_" in Charleston. If Silvia Dawson was working as an Italian spy, then where was his poison? Did Silvia take it? Julian felt confused. He desperately wanted Philippe to be here, but it wasn't possible at the moment.

James winced. "Obviously." He finished off his drink.

"At first we must find Silvia Dawson's messenger in Charleston," Effingham said.

"Richard is doing that now," Aaron assured.

"Alright." Effingham finished his glass of whiskey. "James, did you send a codified message to Philippe? He has to know the new details."

James looked out the window. "Hell yes," he corroborated. "I sent it immediately after I had received information from Richard's messenger. Philippe will get the message in Zurich when he stops there."

Effingham smiled gingerly. "Thank you, James."

James smiled back. "You're welcome, Julian."

Lord Effingham's smile faded. "James, who is that French agent?"

James stared at him with an all-pervading, intensive gaze. "Julian, sorry, but it is over-confidential. I cannot say it neither to you not to anybody else before _Benjamin Disraeli, the British Prime Minister_, permits it. Disraeli is in Geneva on the congress now. I suppose Philippe will spend several days in Milan and will then leave for Geneva to have a private audience with Disraeli."

"They must meet soon," Julian homologated. "I have my own suspicions about the case," he paused and stared at James. "I know Philippe has been working on something rather secret here, on the continent."

"Maybe." James smiled mystically.

"James, I know that Philippe worked only with you. And if I am true in my suspicions, then it is pretty bad," he paused. "May God help us!"

"May God help us!" James echoed.

Julian almost laughed out loud in bitterness. "Oh, Lord! We will never have peace."

"It is our job," Aaron grinned. "We live outside the mainstream of the population. However, everybody, even the most usual person, can play a role of a spy somewhere somehow in his or her life."

"How poetic," Lord Effingham scoffed. "It is something like the fact that you could say that all novels are spy novels and that all novelists are natural spy masters."

"Exactly!" James snapped light-heartedly. "I am almost incapable of lying. I am a terrible spy," he mocked.

The response was everybody's loud laugh.

Taking a deep breath, Julian stared at Aaron and James. His blue eyes were alight with laughter. "For us doing what we are doing is a kind of routine. For us today's case with the krait may seem to be entertaining because we have got accustomed to such incidents, especially because of our strained life with numerous surprises in Southeast Asia. However, for Scarlett, today's accident was indeed a dreadful experience. She didn't come back to her suite and went directly to the lobby, didn't she?"

"Quite so," James acknowledged. "Mervin is following Madame Scarlett in the street. Now she is going to the Embassy of France on _Mariahilfer Straße_."

Effingham gazed speculatively at Aaron and James, who nodded in affirmance. "We must watch Scarlett everywhere, especially now when we have another proof of the mortal danger. The case is very complicated. The mortal cases in Charleston with all the murders, the murders in London at the art event, and today's attempt to kill Scarlett are related to each other."

"Beyond all doubt," James acceded.

"Beyond question," Aaron countenanced.

"By the way, as far as I know, _Vittorio Amedeo Alberto di Savoia, the Duke of Naples,_ left Vienna at six in the morning, one earlier later than Philippe did. He is likely to be responsible for today's event," James said.

"Who knows, James." Lord Effingham touched his forehead in thoughtfulness. "I am not so sure of it."

"We have just killed the most venomous snake of India, Ceylon, Burma, and Pakistan," Aaron said.

"An India krait's venom consists mostly of powerful toxins that induce muscle paralysis and cause respiratory failure. If a victim dies, the death occurs from suffocation, approximately four to six hours after the krait bite," Effingham supplied calmly.

James smiled at him. "We know about that. Stop your lecture, Julian."

Aaron shrugged. "We are done and the krait is dead."

Effingham only blinked. He was very anxious. "We are lucky that that damned villain didn't put the king cobra here. In that case Scarlett would be dead now. At least the krait is always passive in the daytime."

"But how can an Indian krait be here in Vienna?" James asked thoughtfully.

Lord Effingham shook his head in confusion. "I don't know."

Aaron shrugged. "And neither do I."

"Indian krait doesn't like Europe. It lives only in India, Ceylon, and Burma. It inhabits a wide variety of places in its range: fields, low scrub jungle, and even inhabited areas. In addition, this snake likes water and thus is often found somewhere in the proximity to a water source," Effingham mused. "I would say I am astonished to find this snake here, in Vienna."

"I didn't expect it either," James admitted anxiously and rubbed his temples.

Lord Effingham looked at them gravely. "It means that we must be very careful. Any mistake can be fatal," Effingham declared. James and Aaron gave a nod of understanding. "We must also track all of Rhett Butler and Scarlett's locations and movements."

"Gilbert, Philippe's agent, is watching Madame Scarlett's movements. Gilbert followed her in the lobby and on her way to the Embassy of France. Percival, the Duke of Lauderdale's agent, is observing Mr Rhett Butler. It was Percy who told me that there was the krait near Madame Scarlett's front door. While I rushed out into the corridor to the door to take the poisonous snake away and neutralize the threat, Percy continued watching the door because Mr Butler was inside the room," James enlightened.

"Noteworthily," Julian said with a smile. "Thank you, my dear gentlemen. Well done."

Aaron rose to his feet. "I am going to take the krait away before a member of the hotel's personnel finds it and has a heart attack."

"Thanks, Aaron," Effingham murmured. "And James and I will clean up the room from the sprayed aconite and hydrogen cyanide."

While Julian, James, and Aaron were killing the krait and talking, Scarlett made her way downstairs to the lobby and dashed outside the building right onto the street - _Kaerntner Ring_. She didn't see that she had given a poke in the ribs of the amused porter by chance. She didn't apologize and continued going ahead. When she was in the street, she began walking down the street. For several minutes she didn't change direction and then she paused at a cross roads at_ Schwarzenbergplatz_, waiting with obvious impatience for a clearing in the traffic as the carriages were passing her.

Suddenly, her green eyes flew to an unknown man who was looking at her and smiling. She had a strange feeling that she had been watched right from the moment she had left _the Hotel Imperial_. Avidly, the unknown man studied her profile as he looked to either side of her. In an instance Scarlett abruptly turned on her heel and began to run. She had just turned onto _Schwarzenbergstraße_ and continued to run. Fighting for breath, she realized that she had to take a carriage in order to get to the Embassy of the _Third Republic of France_ on _Mariahilfer Straße._

Scarlett stopped herself and looked around. The carriageway was on the left side from her. The brisk July morning was sharply brilliant. As she inhaled deeply and exhaled, she felt better and more composed. Her eyes were searching for a passing carriage. After several minutes Scarlett managed to stop a carriage and climbed inside. Relief washed over her as soon as she was inside the carriage and going to her main destination for today. With a heavy sigh, she persuaded herself that there would be no fiasco today and she would meet _Marquis François de Saint-Hérem _in accordance with her initial plans. She tried not to think about the case with the krait and assured herself that the krait had indeed belonged to that strange man she had met in the corridor.

As Scarlett felt better, her thoughts were now occupied by Annabelle and her long-estranged love François. Dozens of questions were whirling in her mind. Did _Marquis François de Saint-Hérem_ still genuinely love Annabelle? Could François forgive Annabelle for pushing him away and staying with her late husband, instead of running away with him from France? Would François be happy to know that he had a five-year-old son René? Scarlett shuddered with horror at the idea that François could possibly be married to somebody else because that fact would make her trip useless.

Mentally Scarlett contemplated how to proceed with her meeting today with _Marquis_ _François de Saint-Hérem_. In accordance with the letter of Mathieu's cousin Frederic, François has been living in Vienna since the end of the Franco-Prussian War in 1871 and was the ambassador of France in Austria-Hungary. François wasn't a frequent guest in France and spent almost all the time in Austro-Hungary, travelling between Vienna and Budapest. His respectable diplomatic status made it relatively difficult to apply for the audience to this man, but she eventually succeeded and now she would meet him.

Scarlett made up a story that she was a French noblewoman who had moved permanently to Vienna and intended to invest her fortune in the economy of Austro-Hungary. When Scarlett applied for the audience with François four days ago, she said to the clerk at the Embassy that she had desperately needed qualified advice from an international representative of France, who knew the situation in Austro-Hungary very well and at the same time remained loyal to the interests of France. At least, this history looked more or less feasible. Scarlett wasn't convinced that if she had been introduced in her full name with reference to the Robillards, François would have wanted to meet. As a result, she introduced herself simply as _Marquise Scarlett de Bréval_ because, as a French nobleman, François should surely have recognized this name. She was correct because on the same day she was notified that her meeting with the ambassador would take place in four days.

As Scarlett's carriage was moving close and closer to her destination, she definitely felt better. She began to look outside the window of the carriage. Now they were driving from _Maria-Theresien Platz _down _Mariahilfer Straße_, passing numerous illuminant shop windows of luxurious shops, several grand hotels, and many historical monuments, including the Imperial Palace. Scarlett recalled that the reception manager at her hotel told her that this street was nicknamed the Champs-Elysees or the Fifth Avenue of Vienna. Looking outside, she concluded that Vienna was a very beautiful city and she wanted to explore the city before her final departure to her chateau in Toulouse. She planned to spend around two months in Vienna.

But everything could wait. Now she was going to meet mysterious François, Annabelle's only true love. And it was much more important than something else.

* * *

_Thanks to our great HelenSES, you have this chapter now. Thank you, Helen!_

_I uploaded this chapter because I am leaving for the place where I won't have access to WiFi for a week at least. Enjoy!_

_If you are interested in snakes, then google an Indian krait - it is disgusting. I am sorry, but I needed exactly that snake because it had to be impassive during the day in order not to kill Scarlett._

_I am beginning to accept the versions of who is the villain or the villains, because one of them can be in Charleston as Philippe and Julian discovered. So far you had one hint on one of the villains in chapter 20 (last paragraph). There is one more in the end of Chapter 34, if you also missed it. But that person is not a main villain!_

_I recommend you reading the story from the beginning, if you have time. There are too many details, and the story was edited. It became more beautiful._


	68. Chapter 68

**Chapter 68**

**The life story of**_** Marquis François de Saint-Hérem**_

The carriage stopped in front of the two-storied brown Gothic building of the Embassy of the _Third Republic of France _on _Mariahilfer Straße_. The coachman opened the door of the carriage, and she stepped out of the carriage onto the street. She noticed that several men standing in front of the building, stopped talking, craned their necks and stared at her in adoration. Appreciating male attention, the green eyes revealed a bright glimpse of superiority and self-pleasure. Scarlett slowed down her footsteps in the parlor as the clerk of the diplomatic service hailed her to stop.

"Good afternoon, Madame. How can I help you?" the clerk asked Scarlett in French.

"Good day, sir. I am here to meet with _Marquis François de Saint-Hérem_," Scarlett announced.

"Do you have a scheduled meeting, Madame? Monsieur de Saint-Hérem is a very busy man."

"Monsieur de Saint-Hérem should be waiting for me. Tell him that _Marquise Scarlett de Bréval _is here," she replied confidently, her tone making sure that she was a very important visitor.

"Madame, please wait in that room. I will let Monsieur de Saint-Hérem know that you have arrived." The clerk was apparently astonished by the vigor Scarlett was talking to him.

"Thank you," she said haphazardly.

Scarlett turned on her heels and made her way to the room a young clerk showed her. At the doorstep she turned around to look over the building and beheld the same three men who now came inside the building and continued to throw the side glances on her slim figure in a fashionable yellow dress. Scarlett smiled to them eagerly and turned around, finally entering the waiting room. She was pleased that her arrival to the service arose so much attention. The clerk returned in ten minutes and invited her to the grand parlor for special visitors on the second floor.

The closer they got to the meeting room, the stronger her heart was beating, jumping out of her chest. Finally they arrived in a large room, bathing in the warm summer sunlight. Scarlett saw a very tall, rather handsome man with blue-black hair. He was a little taller than all the men she was accustomed to have around, taller than Rhett Butler and the Duke of Aylesbury who she thought to be very tall. Only the Duke of Naples was taller than that man. This gentleman was _Marquis François de Saint-Hérem_, Annabelle's mysterious lover and her only true love. He was quite handsome, but his handsomeness was unusual and even exotic as François didn't have the classic profile of a Roman or a Greek God like, for example, _Armand Louis Charles d'Aubusson de La Feuillade's_ classic profile, who was the most beautiful young Robillard, called _ash blonde Adonis _among the beau monde of Europe.

Scarlett noticed that François's hair appeared to shine a little silver-blue in rays of the sun. It was rather unusual and rare. Scarlett strained herself not to smile as she recalled who had the same rare color of hair – François's son René and _Morgan George Robillard-Arden_, the Duke of Aylesbury's second son. Scarlett even recalled Morgan's beautiful jade green-eyes without any hazel pigmentation, which were so similar to her pale green eyes when at times her eyes temporary changed color to jade green.

Scarlett eyes fixed on the pale white face of the French ambassador. François was dressed in an elegant dashing three-piece suit of dark blue color and a black cravat. She also noticed a couple of war-related orders and medals, which were fastened on his chest. The French ambassador looked like an unpredictable, dangerous man. His handsomeness was stern, exotic, courageous, and fearless. His stern, hard features had nothing in common with soft, tender and gentle, pure aristocratic handsomeness of her late husband's Mathieu. He looked like the statue of a magistrate instead of irresolute flesh and blood.

François scanned the room with sharp, mobile eyes, which seemed to take in everything all at once. He stared attentively at Scarlett. As the green eyes locked with François's eyes, Scarlett saw that he had amber eyes with a strong golden tint. His eyes were also exotic as there were small amounts of very light goldish grey in them. Now Scarlett realized whose eyes of his parents Annabelle's son René had. René's amber eyes were as though in front of Scarlett's eyes now.

Scarlett distinguished arrogance and superiority in his handsome face, as well as something from a blackguard and a renegade. He wasn't similar to a typical gentlemanly aristocrat through and through. He was not like her deceased husband _Marquis Mathieu de Bréval_ as there was something dark and caddish in his whole posture, his demeanor, and his voice. He was so much like the man Annabelle had talked about in the nights and days in their unblessed solitude.

Scarlett stared at him. "Good afternoon, Monsieur," she said in English, not in French.

His gaze scanned her from the crown to tiptoes. "Good afternoon, Madame de Bréval," François replied in English, in an official voice. François bowed very low in a typical aristocratic manner, immediately recognized by Scarlett. "It is very nice to meet you, Madame de Bréval. My name is _François Maximilien Xavier de Montmorin, 9th Marquis de Saint-Hérem and 14th Baron de Villeneuve._"

François was apparently going to talk in English. Scarlett didn't object. It was even better. Between themselves she and Annabelle spoke both English and French. They spoke French much of the time as Scarlett had been studying the language. However, during the last time, they had begun to speak more in English. As Annabelle's mother Gwendolyn was the daughter of the Scottish Earl and mostly talked to Annabelle in English, Annabelle's English was perfect. Strong French accent appeared in her speech only when she was very nervous and strained or in critical situations, like that in the Grace Episcopal Church in Charleston when Silvia confessed her murders and later killed herself, which Scarlett didn't observe. If Scarlett saw Annabelle at that moment, she would be astonished as never could Scarlett have heard such a strong French accent in Annabelle's English speech.

"Monsieur de Saint-Hérem, it is wonderful to meet you. Thank you very much for your time and consideration and accepting my visit today," Scarlett answered gratefully.

"It is my pleasure, Madame. How may I help you today?"

"I need your help very much, Monsieur." It was a cold, frigid flow of words.

"As I realized from what you mentioned in your petition to meet me urgently, you have recently moved to Austro-Hungary and are considering making investments here," François said in a cold, businesslike tone, his amber eyes studying Scarlett's pale face.

Scarlett looked away. "A kind of that."

Scarlett noticed that François's English was perfect, almost without any accent. Of course, he was a very intelligent, well-educated man, she mused, and all the more the ambassador of _the Third Republic of France_ in Austro-Hungary.

"Congratulations on moving to Vienna. It is a great city, and you will like it."

"Indeed, I like Vienna very much. I have a lot of plans what I will do here," she declared boldly. Then she paused and continued in a steady sonorous voice, being astonished at how confident she sounded, "However, the real reason of my visit is very specific and staunchly private, sir."

A gleam of undeniable bewilderment came across François's face. "I am sorry, but I don't understand. Could you please explain in details?"

"Sir, I won't circumambulate around the authentic reason for my conversation," Scarlett supplied the truth, smiling in anticipation of his reaction to news. "I haven't relocated to Vienna and I arrived here with one single purpose to talk to you."

"Indeed, Madame? May I ask you why I am so honored to be visited by one of the most beautiful ladies from the French aristocratic society," François asked coldly and in a ceremonious tone.

"My full name is _Catherine Scarlett Athénaïs de Robillard de Bréveaux, Marquise de Bréval_. My late deceased husband was _Mathieu Paul Louis de Harlay de Champvallon, 13th Marquis de Bréval_," she said in a steady voice, as though in one breathe.

François sighed heavily. "Thank you for a proper introduction," he drawled as though he forced the words to come out.

"I apologize for misleading you regarding the real reason for my visit." Scarlett raised her voice a little and gazed at François poignantly.

The prolonged silence followed Scarlett's declaration, and the tension in the room was rising. François rose to his feet, turned around from Scarlett, approaching the window, and stared outside. The air was tense, and the warmth of the day was suffocating both Scarlett and François.

François didn't look at Scarlett for some time and needed time to compose himself. Scarlett saw that the man was evidently deeply touched by the _de Robillard_ part of her long name and desperately hoped that such a direct reaction of unfeigned abashment was caused by his memories about Annabelle. She was watching and patiently waiting.

François removed a fine linen handkerchief from the pocket of his trousers and majestically flicked dust from his sleeve. He was rooted to the floor, half turned to her. He didn't speak, and the ominous silence began to press Scarlett. What should she do to make this arrogant man talk to her?

Scarlett's palms prickled with an edgy energy. She smoothed her hands against the fine fabric of her gown and counted breaths until the tension inside her faded to a passive lump of nerves. Finally she began to speak. "I am deeply touched by your reaction to my real surname, Monsieur de Saint-Hérem."

"Thank you, Madame de Bréval," he said arrogantly and nonchalantly. He didn't change his pose.

"I have been looking for you for the past several months, and my late husband's cousin helped me because he had served in the Command Headquarters of the French army during _the Franco-Prussian War of 1870-1871_. I am glad to finally meet you," she explained.

François turned to her and stared at her interrogatively. "You mean that _Frédéric Philippe Auguste de Harlay, 16th Count de Cesy, _helped you to find me?"

Wild determination in her voice, intensive gaze of the icy queen, and the look of a Roman triumphator in the halo of glory framed her appearance in front of _Marquis François de Saint-Hérem_. "Yes," she said and raised her chin. "Now Frédéric is also _15th Marquis de Bréval_."

A sarcastic smile stirred his lips. "How can I serve you, Madame de Bréval?"

She noticed that his face had been screwed up with deep internal perturbation before he put on an impassive indifference. He wasn't very successful at masquerading of his emotions, she concluded.

"You can help me very much, sir," she said reassuringly and smiled.

"How, Madame de Bréval?" he asked more arrogantly, with greater aloofness.

Scarlett was going to assault his arrogance and aloofness. She wouldn't tolerate it from him. "Monsieur de Saint-Hérem, I see that you didn't anticipate my visit. You don't need to hide your excitement and flurry of thoughts, apparently whirling in your mind. I can distinguish this masquerade very well."

"You are a very sharp-eyed lady, Madame, like many Robillard ladies."

"I am Annabelle's third cousin and very close friend," Scarlett promulgated with pride. "I hope you remember _Annabelle Françoise Julienne de Robillard de Bréveaux, Countess de Morville."_

"Madame Annabelle's confident?" There was a hint of mockery in his question.

"I am her close friend and relative." Scarlett was nervous, but managed to compose herself as she decided that François's soul was deeply touched by Annabelle. She raised her head and snapped idly: "I hope you still remember Annabelle."

"_Countess Annabelle de Morville_ is unparalleled and unforgettable," François said aversely, with dark irony, his amber eyes shooting danger.

"Why are you using the name of her last husband?"

"I am doing that in accordance with the etiquette."

"She doesn't like this," Scarlett retorted.

"Does she call herself Annabelle de Robillard?"

"Yes," a monosyllabic answer followed.

François gave a condescending glance to Scarlett. "It is fine. Let her be Annabelle de Robillard."

"I agree with you. She is a very special lady. Annabelle is in London now. She will depart to Paris soon," Scarlett admitted and let out a chilling laugh.

His lips quirked with a wry twitch. "Madame, I am not interested in Madame Annabelle de Robillard's whereabouts."

"Indeed? It is a great pity."

"Indeed," he parried.

It was a battle of arrogance, and Scarlett accepted the challenge. She was happy that this exotic Marquis was not as indifferent and dispassionate as several other people in her life – _Philippe Justin Robillard-Arden, 8th Duke of Aylesbury_, his son _Jasper Alastair Robillard-Arden_,_ the heir apparent to 8th Duke of Aylesbury and_ _10th Marquess of Wycombe, _and her former husband _Rhett Kenneth Butler, _as well as Aylesbury's friends _Julian St John Lessard, 13th Earl of Effingham_, and _Ian Colin Murray, 9th Duke of Lauderdale_. At least only these examples came to her mind.

Scarlett narrowed her eyes. "Annabelle doesn't know that I am here, sir."

François's eyes were shooting fire at Scarlett. "Why are you here, Madame de Bréval?"

"Why do you think, Monsieur de Saint-Hérem?" Scarlett retorted dispassionately.

"I haven't seen Madame Annabelle de Robillard for ages," he said cavalierly.

"I know, sir."

François smiled. His smile was pompous and at the same time hyped-up. "I don't have any intention of meeting with Madame Annabelle de Robillard," he threw out with negligence, irritating Scarlett up to the roots of her hair. His voice was sodden with stressed, but casual disdain and mockery. "Madame Annabelle seemed to enjoy her meretricious life at _Napoleon III's_ court. She may continue enjoying her gracious, flamboyant life in gorgeous Paris with her numerous lovers and worshipers from the high society of Paris. I think she should start collecting the figures of her numerous admirers and lovers."

"You don't plan to find Annabelle, do you?"

François raised his chin and laughed. For the second time during the meeting, he loungingly flicked dust from his wristband. "Certainly not," he snapped nonchalantly. There was a ring of finality in his arrogant, sarcastic voice.

_Marquis François de Saint-Hérem's_ arrogance and top-loftiness made Scarlett very angry. Feeling decidedly outraged and even humiliated by his pomposity at that moment, Scarlett let her gaze roam over François for some time. After a moment her green eyes fixed at his face.

"Sir, can I ask you to stop this masquerade of arrogance? But if you want, we can continue," she said as coldly and indifferently as she could.

François drew his fingers though his hair. "Madame de Bréval, you are a redoubtable, courageous woman."

"I am here because Annabelle is my very close friend and relative." Her green eyes challenged him. "It is not good that you don't have any intention to meet Annabelle. Honestly, and neither does she."

"It is good for Madame Annabelle and for her husband," François snapped waspishly.

The green eyes met the amber eyes. "Why do you think so?"

He laughed out. "In this case she doesn't need to deceive him like she did in the past. I commiserate with poor husbands of such wanton women."

Scarlett sneered at him. "Sir, could you please stop this charade? Besides, I don't see a wedding ring on one of your white aristocratic fingers, Monsieur de Saint-Hérem_. _I guess that you seduced a lot of women in your life in your role of a haughty dandy, and so that you are no better than Annabelle is."

"Madame de Bréval…" He nearly jumped from her candidness and observance, courage and arrogance. He saw the challenge in her eyes and voice. He nearly screamed at her: "You are behaving like she…"

"There is no use in denying the truth, sir." Scarlett laughed sincerely.

"Probably." François threw his head up with a scornful toss as he remembered that Annabelle was still married. "As I remember, she is a married woman. She is _Countess Annabelle de Morville_."

"Her title didn't change."

"I know, Madame de Bréval."

"Good for you, Monsieur de Saint-Hérem."

François stared at Scarlett with challenge. "Madame de Bréval, please do me a favor and give my warmest wishes of happiness and blessings for successful childbirth to Madame de Robillard or Madame de Morville and to her husband Monsieur Emmanuel de Morville."

"I cannot do that because I don't know how to contact the dead people," she grimaced playfully and shrugged in perplexity. "I am not good at talking to ghosts at the cemetery."

He looked bewildered. He nervously rubbed his temples. "Dead… Who is dead?"

"Annabelle has been a widow for the last five years," Scarlett answered crisply. "_Count Emmanuel de Morville_ committed a suicide in approximately a year after you had left for the war."

Numbness overcame François, his body was immobilized. "What? What?"

"Monsieur, don't be so shocked. Annabelle hasn't got married again as she was fed up with three loveless marriages. She was waiting for your return from the war, but somebody from the gang of these hypocritical aristocrats told her that you had been killed in the one of the battles." Scarlett paused, her eyes focused on François's bewildered face.

His amber eyes grew wide. More goldish grey pigments appeared in his eyes. "What? What?"

"Poor dear Annabelle spent around six months in the _Abbaye de Saint-Denis_ and later returned from her unblessed, compulsory confinement to the everyday life and straight into the horror of the bloody _Paris Commune_ and its aftermath. She had had to survive very boring, difficult six months in the convent, but what she had to face in Paris upon arrival from the convent was much more frightful than she had ever imagined."

"You are very cognizant, Madame," François stumbled with words. His voice was steady now. Scarlett saw that he was ready for civil conversation. "What do you mean? What happened?"

"Annabelle joined the convent in several months after you had left her. When she got back from the convent, she and some other Robillards were arrested by the leaders of _the Paris Commune_."

"Why was she arrested, Madame de Bréval?"

"Annabelle was arrested because of her husband's actions. _Count Emmanuel de Morville_ criticized in very harsh words _the Paris Commune_ and its leaders. He did that aloud in front of a large crowd near _Opéra Garnier_. The leaders of the Commune learnt about the case and ordered to arrest _Count and Countess de Morville_."

"_Count Emmanuel de Morville_ is a fool! Damned fool! Damn him!" he cursed.

"Don't curse him. He is dead."

"I am sorry," he replied. "Didn't Monsieur Emmanuel help Annabelle avoid an arrest? He was her husband. It was his responsibility to take care of her safety, even if they had so strained relations."

"_Count Emmanuel de Morville_ fled Paris and spent several months at his chateau in _Provence_."

"What a bastard! What a dirty scoundrel!" François roared in anger. "Damn him!"

He roared in such a loud voice that his secretary rushed into the room, apparently to save the Ambassador from Scarlett. François quickly dismissed him and ordered to postpone all meetings he had in the next three hours. He also instructed that nobody should disturb him while he was talking to Scarlett.

Scarlett nodded. "Emmanuel behaved as a coward."

François looked right into Scarlett's eyes. "Whether you believe me or not, I knew nothing about that."

"Oh, Marquis," Scarlett said. "I believe you."

"The truth is that I even didn't try to learn."

"I can well believe you."

"In February 1871, I had been fighting in the battles in cold Prussia. In March 1871, I had been captivated by the Prussian soldiers and had to spend several months in Prussia. Later, in September 1871, I was finally released and went directly to Austro-Hungary in order to accept a position of the French ambassador."

"Monsieur de Saint-Hérem, why did you come to Vienna after the war?"

"Madame de Bréval, it is a long story. My decision to live in Vienna has its roots in the results of _the Franco-Prussian War_. I came here because I didn't want to come back to Paris." He paused.

"I understand."

François smiled plaintively. "_The Franco–Prussian War of 1870-1871_ was a significant conflict pitting _the Second French Empire_ against the Kingdom of Prussia, aided by _the North German Confederation_, and _the South German states of Baden, Württemberg, Bavaria and Hesse-Darmstadt_. _Napoleon III_ failed to cultivate alliances with _the Russian Empire_ and the British Crown, partially due to the diplomatic efforts of the Prussian chancellor _Otto von Bismarck_. Austro-Hungary, which France strived to help, in the end decided not to interfere. As a result, France faced the war alone. The German won the war, and that victory was an important event for the whole Europe. The unification of Germany was finally brought about after years of conflict. And for me the question was where I could go after the war. As the French soldier and a nobleman, I didn't want to go to Germany. I didn't want to go to England because I didn't want to meet the Robillards who were constantly travelling between London and Paris. So I chose Vienna and through my connections with _Marshal Patrice de Mac-Mahon, 1st Duke de Magenta, _I secured a post as a special ambassador of France in Austro-Hungary. I even didn't need to go back to France to receive an appointment because Mac-Mahon did everything for me. I have known Mac-Mahon really well because he was my father's friend and we also met many times at _Napoleon III's_ court."

Scarlett swallowed. "I see."

Now François seemed to be interested in the conversation. He looked anxious and concerned. "Madame de Bréval, please tell me what else happened."

"Annabelle had to spend in the Conciergerie several months."

"The Conciergerie?" François looked shocked. "They locked up Annabelle and the Robillards in the Conciergerie?"

Scarlett raised her brows. "Why are you so astonished? It used to be a royal prison."

"The Conciergerie is the worst among the prisons in terms of conditions and treatment! Even the Temple is not so bad."

Scarlett ignored his comment. She was glad that this man knew the truth now. She sighed and said: "Finally, Annabelle and all the imprisoned Robillards were sentenced to the execution by beheading through guillotine."

"Oh, God!" François almost moaned. "Damn Emmanuel! How could he desert his own wife?"

"Please calm down, Monsieur de Saint-Hérem," Scarlett said icily.

"I am sorry," he said sincerely.

Scarlett continued to goof on François. She thought that he deserved a good emotional shock after all his arrogance and nonchalance in the beginning. She fixed her eyes at him and declared: "Why are you so shocked? Guillotine is such a standard method of killing innocent people just because they are noble. _The Third Republic of France_ came with blood terror, as usual in France."

"My Lord! Why didn't Annabelle leave France for England?" His face paled. He was in horror. "The Duke of Aylesbury, an English aristocrat and the Robillard by blood, would always help her."

"She couldn't do it for many reasons. Finally, Annabelle was saved by _Philippe Justin Robillard-Arden, 8th Duke of Aylesbury_; _Jules Augustin Victor de Robillard-Bréveaux de Cahideuc, 8th Marquis du Bois de La Motte_; and _Jean-Baptiste Edmond Alexandre de Robillard,_ _13th Count de Bréveaux,_ if you remember them."

"I know the Duke of Aylesbury very well because he is a special ambassador of the British Crown in British India. I met him on some conferences and diplomatic events across the continent. I also know _Marquis Jules du Bois de La Motte_ very well because he used to be one of_ Napoleon III's_ ministers, and, of course, I remember that he is _Count Jean-Baptiste de Bréveaux's_ younger brother."

Scarlett gave a half shrug to him. "I understand why you know Jules, but I have never suspected that you know Aylesbury."

"I had known him even before Annabelle introduced him to me in Paris in 1870. Aylesbury and I had got acquainted in 1855 in London when he had just become the Duke of Aylesbury."

Scarlett glanced away, abstractedly, in the emptiness of the room. "I don't know how they managed to saved Annabelle and the other Robillards, but I suppose their connections and money worked well. Not all Robillards were so successful – Jean-Baptiste's son Adrien - _Adrien Jacques Alexandre de Robillard de Bréveaux, 15th Viscount de Saint-Ouen_, and _Felix Jean Olivier de Robillard de Bréveaux_, another distant relative, were executed."

"The time of _the Paris Commune _was very bloody," François said thoughtfully. "It is a pity _Viscount Adrien de Saint-Ouen_ and Monsieur Felix de Robillard had died. I knew them. They were good men."

"Yes, they were. Annabelle was crushed by their death, especially by the death of Adrien de Robillard."

François rubbed his cheek. "I can imagine. It is very tragic."

"_Count Emmanuel de Morville_ died several months after she had been discharged from prison."

"It was a hard time. I am happy that _Count Jean-Baptiste de_ _Bréveaux_ was her salvation. I remember how much he loved Annabelle." François sighed heavily, his fingers slightly trembling.

"This story is only for your ears, sir."

"Yes, of course," he replied, his face turned bloodless. "I won't say a word to anybody."

"I know everything, Monsieur de Saint-Hérem. As I said, we are very close friends with Annabelle. You were right that we are very similar to each other," Scarlett declared boldly and added determinedly, "Don't be afraid of my visit. You won't open to me something new about a love story between you and Annabelle."

"Probably, I won't tell you something new." François smiled cryptically. His voice lost arrogance and coldness, substituted for anxiety.

"I know your story, perhaps, even by heart. I want to say that everybody has a right for mistake, and I truly hope that you don't harbor malice at her for her rejection to flee Paris and France with you. Annabelle thought that you had died and you were sure that she was still married, as I see."

"Madame, you can call me François. I believe that in our case formalities are not necessary." François forced a smile on his face and emptied a glass of water.

"I believe so, François. You can call me Scarlett," she smiled softly.

"Do you want coffee or something else, Madame de Bréval?"

"Scarlett," she corrected. "Yes, a glass of water would be nice, François. Thank you." A faint smile stirred her lips, and she sighed heavily.

"Scarlett…" François echoed.

"François, do you love her? I see that you are not married."

He signed heavily at her courageous question and handed to her a glass of water. "It is a very complicated matter. I was sure that she is still married to Emmanuel."

"Have you been in France since 1871?"

"I traveled to France three times, but those visits were short and exclusively businesslike. Apart from some meetings with _Duke Patrice de Magenta, the President of the Third Republic_, I didn't see any necessity to do it after Annabelle's rejection. Finally I ended up here, in Austro-Hungary. I didn't contact even my old friends. I just didn't want that."

"I see, François," Scarlett's voice became nearly silky as she saw his candidness.

"Honestly, it is an unexpected situation for me, Scarlett."

"I can imagine. Even a thought of an event, even a possibility of this event can shatter and transform us. That is what happened in your and Annabelle's case." Scarlett lowered her voice, some of the soberness lifted from her face.

"It is a wise statement."

"Annabelle has never got married again, but she has a son," she continued.

François paled. "She has a son with Emmanuel?"

"She has a son," Scarlett reiterated.

He sighed, not with relief. "It should be a sort of consolation for her."

François's heart sank in hard-hitting disappointment, and his body stiffened as his mind replayed the grey eyes he loved so much. All his emotions were now on his face, and Scarlett saw his abashment. It was so clear.

"Indeed, it appeals to her that she has a son with the man whom she had accepted to be dead, François."

Scarlett was biting her bottom lip, and her eyes were looking through him and beyond him, at something else, as she was distracted from the subject of their chat for a while. She shuddered and half closed her eyes, fatigue overcoming her body. Scarlett was still quite weak and desperately wanted to have some rest today. She was so tired.

A disconcerting, thoughtful silence enveloped the room as they kept silent. The noise outside of the building also dropped quickly to stillness. Silence was interrupted only by the breaths of the participants of this drama. Each sigh was like a faint, hardly noticeable twang as of a silver string that dispatched the tensed air to a moment's vibration. Was it a sigh of relief or a sigh of disbelief for François?

François took a silver cigar case from the pocket of his elegant black jacket, extracted a cigar and lit it. In this silence, he was smoking for some time. Apparently feeling his nerves pressing tighter, François finally threw a half smoked cigar in the bin. He extracted another cigar and rolled it between his fingers, and calmly contemplated it in silence. Finally, the pause was broken by François.

"What do you mean?" François questioned. His voice changed subtly.

"Our greatest misfortunes come to us from ourselves. If you hadn't left Paris for Prussia so abruptly in the summer of 1870, Annabelle wouldn't have to hide in the convent to give birth to your son. The boy wasn't in the prison with her as Jean-Baptiste de Robillard took him under his protection," she explained.

François raised his eyebrows in astonishment. "What? What did you say? My son…"

Scarlett's face brightened. "François, you have a son. His name is René. René is a charming boy, and he is now with Annabelle in London."

He was taken aback. "I didn't know."

"Don't be so astonished," Scarlett spelled out slowly.

The man was caught off guard. "But how… how is it possible?"

"She couldn't tell you because deceased people and ghosts cannot talk. But we have found you, and I came here. Annabelle knows that you are alive, but she is too much damn coward to come to you on her own. She is afraid of rejection. Besides, we grasped the truth only recently. So I took it in my own hands. I do apologize if I shocked you today."

"Scarlett, believe me, it is the greatest shock of my whole life."

"I understand." Scarlett was amazed how distant and unfamiliar her own voice resonated in the room.

"Scarlett, what is my son's full name?"

"_René Louis Charles de Robillard de Bréveaux."_

He grimaced. "Excellent."

Scarlett sent to him a solicitous glance. "What happened?"

"Nothing terrible, Scarlett," he said in a flat tone. "It is just that she used all the traditional Robillards' names, except for René. Well, the Robillards have always been using typical names, like Louis, Jean, Jacques, Antoine, Arnaud, Armand, Alexandre, and some others. It has started since one of the first known Robillard, the founder of the Robillard noble house in France – _Jean-Jacques Antoine Alexandre de Robillard, 1st Baron de La Mancellière_, who settled down in the picturesque _Manche_ region of _Lower_ _Normandie_ at the beginning of the 14th century. It is strange that the Robillards don't use the name Robert because Jean's only son was infamous _Robert Arnaud Antoine de Robillard, 2nd Baron de La Mancellière and 1st Baron du Boismancellet_, who participated in_ the Hundred Years' War_ and was a hero of many battles."

Scarlett was startled. François knew the history of the Robillards so well. Despite the fact that Jean-Baptiste and other Robillards told her a lot about the history of the family, Scarlett didn't know such details.

"I see that you know the story of the Robillards very well."

François smiled. "Yes, I do. I learnt it when I was going to marry Annabelle after her presumable divorce with _Count Emmanuel de Morville_." His face turned thoughtful. "Moreover, Annabelle named my son on the basis of combining there names of the kings in one: there are many kings with the names Charles and Louis, but only one king with the name René. I remember that he was _René I of Naples_ and was known as _Good King René_. _René I of Naples_ lived in the 15th century." He trailed off.

"François, don't you like the name?"

"I like the name, but I think it is a pompous principle to combine three names of the kings. The Saint-Hérems would give another name to a boy – they would give the first name of the king, like my own name - François, and then two rather rare names, like Maximilien or Xavier or Scipion or Cesar."

Scarlett flinched at those words. She didn't say that she had done the same for her daughters. Now she felt very anxious. "Do you want to change the name?"

"Oh, no, Scarlett," François contradicted. "Please don't look so alarmed. But the surname must be changed. The boy should be _René Louis Charles de Montmorin, 15th Baron de Villeneuve._ Using the courtesy title of the baron, it should be my son's name._"_

"I like how _René_'s surname may sound."

"I hope so."

"François," she called him and added, "Please swear that you won't take René from Annabelle. I came to Vienna to help Annabelle and not to destroy her life. She loves the boy wholeheartedly. She will die if you take him from her." She didn't mention that Annabelle had just managed to officially adopt René and that the boy wasn't always living at her house.

"I swear," he pledged aloud.

"Thank you, François."

"I would never take a boy from his mother, especially given that Annabelle lost her son Lancelot with _Count Etienne de Brienne_."

"Thank you, François," she echoed her last words.

François continued to speculate. "There was nothing really valuable behind the facade of grand _Napoleon III's_ court. I joined the court in 1853, in the beginning of _Napoleon III's_ reign. I was young at that time – I was twenty one years old. At first, I was the same pleasure-seeker like others. Oh, no, I wasn't making intrigues or poisoning people. I was an idle careless nobleman who had just inherited the title and good fortune after his father's death. I was leaving a life of pleasure in its true sense. I was spending nights with ladies-in-waiting and other female courtiers. I was a well-known debauchee. However, in several years I became bored."

Scarlett tried to imagine such a life. Now, she wouldn't want to be a lady-in-waiting. Poor Annabelle, she mused. How could her friend stay at the court for so many years? Where did she find strengths? For a long moment she was staring at François, listening to the frantic drumming of her heart return to normal.

"And what did you do then, François?"

"I fled France in 1860. The decision was made up in one day. I was traveling around the world. I began from Europe where I lived for two years in various countries. I didn't come to Russia because it was too cold there in the winter and I hate cold. In 1862, I visited the North of the States when there was the war with the Confederacy. The whole year of 1863 I spent in Jamaica. In 1864, 1865, and in the first half of 1866, I also visited British India and China, as well as some exotic places in Asia. However, I spent too much and in the middle of 1866 I went back to France."

"Did you join _Napoleon III's_ court again?"

"Yes, I did, but later," François clarified. He sighed and went on. "I had to think how to restore my fortune. So I made considerable investments in five silk mills in Lyon. I modernized them and in 1868 sold them at a triple price. I was fortunate and became wealthy again. As I had money and no longer needed to work, I joined _Napoleon III's_ court in late 1868. However, Annabelle wasn't at the court at that time because she was in mourning for the death of her second husband _Count Etienne de Brienne_ and her soon Lancelot. And in August 1869, I met Annabelle at the court." He stopped himself.

"Indeed, you were lucky in business, but not so lucky in love. Have you ever been married, François?"

He smiled grievously. "Yes, I was married twice. In 1850, I married Victoire, a charming daughter of one local baron near our family estate in _Crèches-sur-Saône_. At that time I was only eighteen years old. I don't know why, but we didn't have children for many years. Finally, in 1855 I was happy that she was carrying my child. However, in 1856, Victoire died in childbirth, leaving me with my daughter Christine."

"Please, accept my condolences, François."

"It is fine, Scarlett. It was a long time ago."

The pale green eyes flashed. "Yes." She inhaled deeply. "By the way, Annabelle has never told me you have a daughter."

"Annabelle knew that I had a daughter. I don't know why she didn't mention that fact." François smiled in a melancholic way. "When in 1860 I left France, I fled with Christine and she was travelling with me all the time together with her governess."

"It is good that you took a girl with you." Scarlett's voice sounded like sonorous soprano. Then she took a lower octave. "And where is this girl?"

"Christine lives with me in Vienna. She is twenty years old now, but she hasn't got married yet. She is a variant of a bluestocking who is extremely independent. She loves music, her voice is excellent. Actually, she loves Vienna because of music." François smiled mysteriously. "My private life was rather sad. In the middle of 1857, I married again. Nathalie was a lady-in-waiting at the Imperial court. I was a fool and was never faithful to her. Nathalie loved me, but I continued to be a pleasure-seeker. I was an adulterer in both marriages. By the way, both Victoire and Nathalie were much more proper than Annabelle had ever been. They could never be called _femme fatale_."

"You are not married now, are you?" she asked to clarify.

"No, Scarlett."

"And what happened with your wife?"

"Nathalie died from pneumonia in 1859. We didn't have surviving children together as in 1858 we had had a stillborn child."

"Oh, Lord!" Scarlett breathed. She glanced at him sorrowfully. "I am so sorry. I know what you feel because my five-year-old daughter died three eyes ago."

François lifted his amber eyes at Scarlett. The expression on his face was lamentable. "I am also sorry for your loss. The death of my child and my wife became another reason I fled France."

"Now you have such a good chance for happiness. You even have a child," Scarlett said crisply.

A warm smiled animated his face. "You are right, Scarlett."

Scarlett felt confused. She didn't know all the provinces of France. "You mentioned _Crèches-sur-Saône_. I am sorry, but where is this place?"

François raised his brows in amazement. "_Crèches-sur-Saône_ is one of the communes in _Bourgogne_, which is a province of France. In the northern part it is bounded by the regions of _Île-de-France_ and _Champagne-Ardenne_, in the eastern – by _Franche-Comté_, in the southern - by _Rhône-Alpes_, and in the end in the southwest by _Auvergne_, and in the west by the _Centre_."

"Oh, God!" Scarlett exclaimed. "Annabelle and I once visited the capital of _Bourgogne_ – _Dijon_. When we were travelling, I liked the views around – they were breathtaking."

"_Bourgogne _is very beautiful place. My ancestors have been living there since the 10th century," he said.

"The 10th century?" she asked as she thought that she had missed the point.

François smiled vaguely. "The first _seigneurs de Montmorin_ appeared in _Bourgogne _in the 10th century. The place became the family's residence."

Scarlett gasped at the realization that François had been the representative of the oldest nobility in France. "Oh, I see," she breathed.

He continued smiling. "Scarlett, did I astonish you?"

"Yes," she confessed.

"Well, the Robillards are also very old nobles. _The_ _Robillard Family de Torce, _who lived in the 8th-10th centuries and were the ancestors of the Robillards who settled in _Normandie_, is known to be the grandparents to _the Plantagenets _and many other noble families."

"I know. My relatives told me the whole story about the origins of the Robillards," she explained.

* * *

_François is shown to be different from Rhett and Philippe. I tried to fill his image with individuality. I hope I achieved my objective._

_The part about seigneurs de Montmorin, who later secured the title of count de Saint-Hérem and then Marquis de Saint-Hérem, is historically correct. The title of Marquis de Saint-Hérem turned extinct at the beginning of the 19th century, which gave me an opportunity to use the extinct title in my story. The information about settlement of the Robillards in Normandie is also correct._

_The names of the provinces are given in French._

_The next three chapters will be heavily embraced by historical background. The history of Napoleon III's court will be told: what it was like, who Napoleon III and his wife Empress Eugenie were, and how the Imperial court lived. A lot of dark sides of aristocracy will come to the surface. Amid this sybarite life, love story of François and Annabelle will be shown. Another mystery in Annabelle's life will be revealed._

_It will also be demonstrated how aristocracy can twist people's lives. For this purpose, a short story about Armand's life will be given. Recall that Armand is Scarlett's third cousin and Annabelle second cousin. His brother Geoffroy was killed by Silvia._

_Classically beautiful Armand was called "ash blonde Adonis." The practice of calling some courtiers by the names of Greek/Roman Gods existed in reality and was especially popular at King Louis VI and Queen Marie Antoinette's court. It was also partly revived at Napoleon III's court because Empress Eugenie felt nostalgia for Marie Antoinette's time._

_Simply remember that all the mysteries in this story are connected with each other. It would be like with Scarlett's marriage to Mathieu and her inheritance of Pierre's money – one chapter explained how Scarlett got married to Mathieu and inherited Pierre's fortune. I mean that later several chapters will clarify everything._

_Thank you very much._


	69. Chapter 69

**Chapter 69**

**Aristocracy and**_** Napoleon III's **_**court, part 1: twisting people's lives**

François stared at her. "I see you are not pure French."

Under his persistent gaze, Scarlett was conscious of a sudden feeling of embarrassment. She needed to answer something, and suddenly a thought struck her mind.

"_François, nous pouvons parler en français, si vous voulez. Il est à vous. Et vous avez raison. Je ne suis pas Français de naissance que je n'étais pas né et n'a pas été soulevée en France. Je suis à moitié français par le sang. Ma mère était descendant des Robillards français. Mon père était originaire de l'Irlande, une magnifique île d'Emeraude. Je suis né dans le sud des États, en Géorgie (François, we can talk in French, if you want. It is up to you. And you are right. I am not French by birth because I wasn't born and wasn't raised in France. I am half French by blood. My mother was descending from the French Robillards. My father was from Ireland. I was born in the South of the United States, in Georgia)_," she said in French.

François looked at her, his amber eyes shining with golden embers of joy. This gaze was good-natured. "I am sure you know French, although it is with English accent, but it is not very strong," he continued in English. "You don't need to demonstrate your knowledge to me."

She raised her chin. "Well, let's talk in English." She thought that he had said those words as scanty consolation to her.

"Now you are behaving like Annabelle."

"What do you mean, François?"

He smiled good-humoredly. "I mean that I see more and more how similar in many aspects to Annabelle you are. She could be such a child at times. And you and she have much in common. It is not only about this mask of polite indifference in public, but about your stubbornness, fearlessness, and pride. However, I guess that Annabelle and you are not similar in one very important way - self-indulgence in one special aspect."

Scarlett smiled. She liked this friendly conversation. "I also like luxurious life. I also like indulgence of manners in the European high society. Although I was born in the Old South of the United States, I have always hated unjustified care for respectability and for ceremoniousness."

"I comprehend you as I do hate Victorian conventionalities from the bottom of my heart. Annabelle had always said that I had been a scoundrel, and I am a cad in many aspects, probably a little more honorable than others. However, I will never be able to continue such an idle life as I was leading at _Napoleon III's _court. I was fed up in 1860 and I joined the court again in 1868 just because of boredom. But now everything is very different."

Scarlett's green eyes and her lips smiled. "I am glad to hear this."

The amber eyes met the pale green. "However, I mean self-indulgence of another kind."

"It seems I got the point. You mean love affairs?"

"Yes," he nodded. "I cannot imagine that a girl, who was born and raised in the Old South, can lead a Corinthian lifestyle with numerous love escapades, like, for example, the life of _Georgette Anne Robillard-Arden, the Duchess of Aylesbury_. Even in Vienna people are talking about the scandals around her name."

"As to Philippe's wife Georgette, I can only say I am commiserating with him. As to me, you are right. I didn't have such a flamboyant life, although I was married to different men four times. And I widowed thrice." She paused momentarily. She coughed and then went on. "In addition, my third husband divorced me in the United States three years ago. Later I got married to _Monsieur Mathieu de Bréval_, but he died in roughly a year after our marriage."

"As I see, I was completely right. We have two close friends - Scarlett and Annabelle. These friends are two _femmes fatales_," he mocked.

Scarlett let out a sincere laugh. "Oh, yes, we are." She was happy that François didn't make any remarks about the divorce.

"I think I am correct." François stared at Scarlett, his amber eyes taking in her image. "I can confess that I neither loved my wives Victoire and Nathalie nor was faithful to them. I can avouch that I was an adulterer in my two marriages because and only because I joined _Napoleon III's_ court. The court was the place where all sins had materialized." He paused. Then he leapt to his feet and came to the table with the jug of fresh water. "Scarlett, do you want coffee or tea or water?"

"No, thank you, I am fine."

François poured a glass of water for himself. "You are welcome to order what you want. The servants will bring everything."

"No, thank you," she repeated.

François sat back in his chair. He sipped some water. François rubbed his eyes and stared at Scarlett with directedness. "Among other things, I have recently seen your relative _Armand d'Aubusson de La Feuillade_ here in Vienna," he announced.

She raised her eyebrows and favored François with a wonder-struck glare. "Really?"

"I saw Monsieur Armand de Roannais at one of the restaurants last week. He was with his mother, her Grace _Duchess Henriette de Roannais_, and his three brothers. They all are in mourning. Monsieur Armand looked very unhealthy, definitely not that flourishing _ash blonde Adonis _of Paris whom I had always remembered him to be at _Napoleon III's _court."

Scarlett didn't pay attention to how François referred to Armand - Monsieur Armand de Roannais instead of Monsieur Armand de Maulevrier or _Count Armand de Maulevrier._

Scarlett shut her eyes, her heart in her throat. She again felt guilty for Geoffroy and Charles's deaths. "Armand must survive through Geoffroy's death. He hasn't recovered yet."

"Monsieur Armand de Roannais told me that his brother had died in London. I don't know the details. I found it improper to ask."

"Of course, François."

"I was shocked because I hadn't known about that tragic event."

"François, Geoffroy had been killed by one lady," she said, confused in her thoughts, and her mind unfocused, her heart swelling with pain. "Geoffroy was poisoned, together with several other people, including Annabelle and myself."

François even sprang to his feet in horror. "I have heard about the dreadful scandal in London, but honestly I didn't know any details. I haven't even imagined that the Robillards had been involved. What happened? What poison was used?"

"We were poisoned during the art event at the National Gallery of London. The poison was the Medici's blue cooper sulphate, probably mixed with some other ingredients," she said.

A sigh of relief escaped François. "In this case Annabelle should be fine if the dose wasn't lethal. She is immune to blue cooper sulphate. Moreover, she is immune even to black cooper sulphate, which is blue cooper sulfate mixed with _sulphurous acid."_

"This is what had happened. Annabelle is fine now. I am also recovering."

"I am happy to hear that," he stated with sincere concern.

Scarlett shut her eyes before she began to speak. "However, Geoffroy and my stepson Charles were poisoned."

"I heard that your husband, _Marquis Mathieu de Bréval_ died, and now his son also died. Please accept my condolences." His voice was sodden with sympathy.

"Thank you, François." She stared at him with translucent eyes. "It is very tragic."

"Was a murderer or a murderess found and arrested?"

As François was watching her in silence, she gave a shrug and a sigh to him. "The murderess is dead," she replied with detachment. "I do apologize, but I prefer not to talk about this tragedy."

A short pause fell between them. Then François said compassionately: "I comprehend."

"What else did Armand say to you?"

"Monsieur Armand de Roannais told me that his father his Grace _Duke Antoine de Roannais_ had died in Paris last month. Monsieur Armand has all the reasons to grieve and not to look as the magnificent _ash blonde Adonis_ with his perfect handsomeness of a Greek God."

"I didn't know that his father died!" Scarlett cried out. She felt a new sharp flash of pain and guilt in the region of her heart. She was sure that Armand's father died because his heart didn't withstand pain caused by his son Geoffroy's death. "I had arrived in Paris from London and had spent in the city only for one day before I departed to Vienna."

"Monsieur Armand de Roannais is the Duke now. He is no longer _Count Armand de Maulevrier_ – he is his Grace _Duke Armand de Roannais_, although he asked me never call him by his hew title of the Duke – he hates this. We had some time to talk, and Monsieur Armand told me that he had arrived in Vienna to marry in accordance with the last wish of his father."

"François, did he tell you whom he would marry?"

"Surely, Scarlett. He is marrying your relative."

She looked totally bewildered. "What? What?"

"You should know that one of the Robillards lives in Vienna. He is _Bernard Claude Jacques de Robillard de Bréveaux, 19th Baron de La Fresnaye._ Monsieur Armand said that on his deathbed his father had asked him to marry Bernard de Robillard's granddaughter Clémentine from Vienna. Thus, Monsieur Armand and his family arrived to fulfill their duty."

Scarlett knew that Pierre Robillard's elder brother Bernard – _Bernard Claude Jacques de Robillard de Bréveaux_, _19th_ _Baron de La Fresnaye –_ didn't live in France. She couldn't meet him in Paris. Bernard and his several children had been living in Vienna in Austro-Hungary for many years. Scarlett intended to notify Bernard that Pierre's granddaughter had arrived in Vienna. She planned to send him a note after the meeting with François. It appeared she would attend the wedding in Vienna.

"Excuse me," she murmured with distracted deference while her brain was working. "But Armand doesn't love Clémentine. He loves another lady, but cannot marry her."

François's amber eyes were dancing with mockery. He laughed, bitterly and in an all-a-mort manner. "It doesn't matter in the high society. My father forced me to marry my first wife Victoire when I was eighteen years old. He simply told me that I was his only son and he wanted to be sure that the bloodline wouldn't disappear. My father threatened to blot out my name from the family bible if I didn't agree to marry Victoire. My father also menaced to join the convent if I didn't marry her. All the relatives pressured me so hard that I finally gave in and married Victoire. However, in several years Victoire died in childbirth. As a result, I still don't have a legitimate male heir, except for Annabelle's son, but my parenthood should be legalized. Thanks God, I also have a daughter. I love my dear Christine very much."

"God's nightgown! This is disastrous!" Scarlett exclaimed. "How can a father, a mother or other relatives pressure so much and so hard as to marry or got married to somebody whom he or she doesn't love? It is wrong!"

Leaning back in his chair, François continued to glare at her. "Scarlett, you are like from another world in the aristocratic society of Europe."

Scarlett liked that François had dropped the mask of arrogance and top-loftiness. Now he was a pleasant interlocutor, interested and sympathetic.

"Perhaps, I am talking strangely, but I don't want Armand to live in a loveless marriage, even if Clémentine is a good, beautiful girl. I know Armand's life story, so that he cannot marry Clémentine!"

"Scarlett, Monsieur Armand de Roannais, who is now his Grace _Duke Armand de Roannais_, is a very honorable man. There was time when at _Napoleon III's_ court and, probably, later, after the defeat of the Empire, Monsieur de Roannais had been with many women, but I know that he had loved wholeheartedly a lady from the Robillards – _Noëlle Marie Rosalie de Robillard de Bréveaux, Marquise d'Entrecasteaux_."

"Oh God! You know!" Scarlett exclaimed. She was afraid that Armand and Noëlle's secret would be revealed.

"Scarlett, I was close enough with Annabelle to know that. Madame Noëlle has always been her close friend. Besides, Monsieur Armand confessed to me during one of the drunken parties at the Imperial court that he had secretly loved Madame Noëlle de Robillard for many years. I remember they had rather tragic story and cannot be together."

"Noëlle and Annabelle haven't been on good terms in the past years."

"Why, Scarlett?"

"Annabelle tried to persuade Armand and Noëlle to flee France and be together. She encouraged Noëlle to divorce her old husband _Marquis Raymond d'Entrecasteaux_. Noëlle said that she couldn't divorce and disgrace her father Marc and her grandfather Luc, Jean-Baptiste's younger brother."

François shook his head. "I don't understand why _Luc Edmond Jean-Jacques de Robillard de Bréveaux_, _18th_ _Baron_ _de La Mancellière, and his son Marc Antoine Louis de Robillard de Bréveaux_, have always been so opposed to Armand's marriage to Noëlle."

"Everything is very simple – Armand was the second son of _Duke de Roannais, _and he was only _Count Armand de Maulevrier_. Luc de Robillard didn't want his granddaughter to get married only to a Count, and they forced her to marry old _Marquis Raymond d'Entrecasteaux_."

"Scarlett, look how terribly aristocracy distorts people's lives. Monsieur Armand and Madame Noëlle had continued to be lovers for years, even when she had got married. And they secretly have two illegitimate children together. I wouldn't be astonished if now they have more children. Annabelle told me that she had always helped them to have secret meetings at the Imperial Court before Noëlle had left the court in 1866 and returned to Toulouse to her husband. And even after that Armand continued to come to Toulouse and even bought the house there to meet with Madame Noëlle. There was such a bloodthirsty war between the Robillards – Luc de Robillard and his son Marc de Robillard, Noëlle's father, against her Grace _Henriette Juliette Celestine de Robillard de Bréveaux, Duchess de Roannais_, Monsieur Armand's mother and Gaspard de Robillard's daughter."

Scarlett was surprised that François knew that whole story. "Oh, I see that you know everything."

He smiled. "Exactly."

Scarlett smiled back. "Annabelle told me that Armand's mother Henriette asked Luc and Marc de Robillard many years ago to permit this marriage, but they rejected that idea."

The amber eyes were scintillating in pensiveness. "And they distorted and broke the lives of two people – Monsieur Armand and Madame Noëlle, both of them the Robillards. And now his Grace_ Duke Antoine de Roannais_ on his deathbed forced his own son Armand, his heir, to promise that he would marry a lady whom he would never love. At times, I hate all these bloodlines, aristocratic pomposity and grandiosity, and those archaic ideas that marriage is only a method to secure bloodline, status, and fortune."

"I agree with you, François." Then Scarlett gave a look of entreaty to François. "François, I implore you not to tell anybody about Noëlle and Armand."

"Scarlett, I might be a womanizer and a scoundrel in some aspects, but I am not a fool and not a betrayer. I would never do something like this."

She felt as a relief swept though her. "Thank you very much."

"You are welcome."

"Armand cannot marry Clémentine!" Scarlett continued. "Nothing changed. Armand loves Noëlle, not Clémentine. This is the reason why Armand is still not married."

With a slight nod of his head, he contradicted her. "Well, Monsieur Armand de Roannais will be married soon."

"François, I must talk to Clémentine's grandfather Bernard! They are the Robillards, they will understand. I must talk to Armand. Armand cannot marry! He mustn't marry."

"_Duke Armand de Roannais_ must marry because he had pledged to marry on his father's deathbed. Recall that he told me about that," François said softly. "Scarlett, if you think that Monsieur Armand can breach his word, then you don't understand the Robillards of France. There were probably some scoundrels among the Robillards, but in an overwhelming majority they tend to be quite honorable, especially relative to somebody's wishes on the deathbed. I don't like some of the Robillards." He paused to clear his throat. "But if the Robillard gives a word, he or she will keep it."

She exhaled. "Oh God!"

"It is a man's world even in Europe, Scarlett, although it is much more relaxed in terms of manners and general possibilities for women as compared to the South of the United States. I guess that a few things have changed in the South since the civil war with the Yankees finished."

Scarlett smiled. "You are right, François."

"Well, it is quite natural," he said in a pensive voice. "However, even in France many girls are socialized to be obedient to their parents and are made cognizant early that their families' respectability and happiness are founded on their marriage to a suitable man. By "a suitable man" I mean fiancé's status, fortune, lineage, and connections. There are cases when parents are threatening to commit a suicide, if they want to subdue uncooperative children. Even here, in Europe, it is possible and not uncommon, especially in England, much more conservative than France. I am sorry, Scarlett, but such _femme fatales,_ like you and Annabelle, may be accepted in the conservative ton of England if and only if you or your relatives have numerous, very powerful connections and high status and old nobility. I daresay that in the case of the Robillards it is the Duke of Aylesbury's influence."

"I agree." She gave a nod. "Philippe is accepted everywhere, despite his wife's scandalous, simply disgusting behavior. Neither Annabelle nor any other lady from the Robillards has been so obsessed… erm… with men."

"It is true. If I were in Aylesbury's shoes, I would divorce such a woman." François shrugged in confusion. "I don't understand why he hasn't done that yet. Her Grace Duchess of Aylesbury is a notorious woman."

"I think Philippe is too honorable to divorce her," she admitted.

"The Duke of Aylesbury is a very good person. I admire him. Another thing is that in general I find Aylesbury quite mysterious."

Scarlett smiled. "I like him very much."

"Scarlett, you didn't need _Frédéric Philippe Auguste de Harlay, 16th Count de Cesy and 15th Marquis de Breval,_ to find me. You could only ask about me the Duke of Aylesbury."

"François, Annabelle and you had always been secretive about your relations. As a result, Philippe has never known that everything had been so serious between you and Annabelle. I am sure that if he had known about that, he would have dragged you to Paris."

François nodded. "Aylesbury would have done that if he had known." He smiled. "As to our topic about _Duke Armand de Roannais's_ marriage, I see no alternative for Monsieur Armand but to submit and marry young, beautiful Clémentine. She is a good girl, Scarlett. I have seen her on many balls and many routs here in Vienna."

She sighed. "It appears that I am going to attend Armand's wedding."

"I will also attend. Monsieur Armand invited me." He cast at Scarlett with an inquisitive glance. "Are you referring to the Duke of Aylesbury as Philippe?"

Scarlett fluttered her black eyelashes in bewilderment. "Yes. He asked me to address to him as Philippe. Why are you asking?"

"I am just astonished," he acknowledged. "For Aylesbury, who is so restrained, so formal, and so selective, it is a very bold step."

"I know. We are just on very good terms."

François rubbed his cheek. "Well, congratulations. You succeeded in the area where others, including his numerous mistresses, failed. I know him quite well because he is also a diplomat. Our community is rather narrow, and Aylesbury is very well-known."

"I see."

"Scarlett, I am looking at you now and I would say your appearance has some resemblance to Aylesbury. I met you today for the first time, but I remember Aylesbury's face very well because we met several months ago in Geneva on the conference of European Countries. I can see some resemblance."

"I think it is the general resemblance between the Robillards," Scarlett admitted.

"Naturally," he said, although he found the resemblance even striking in some features.

"I am sure, François."

François smiled wistfully. "Aristocracy has twisted so many lives, including Annabelle's life and my life. So many people were married against their will, just to fulfill their duty, because they had to marry a lady or a man whom they didn't love."

Scarlett shivered as she realized how true and real his words were. "Oh, I understand."

François's mind drifted to the time when he was a courtier and met Annabelle. "_Napoleon III's_ court…" he whispered thoughtfully. "And how many people's lives were twisted by the Imperial court! All possible and impossible sins floated to the surface at the court. If you were not a sinner, you would become a sinner, if you join the Imperial court. In the 19th century it was especially true about _Napoleon III's_ court among other European courts. Maybe, it is fair to say that _Napoleon III_ was a worse womanizer than his Uncle _Napoleon I_. Many people say that _Napoleon III's_ court could be compared in its dissoluteness, extravagance, and self-indulgence only to _King_ _Louis XVI _and_ Queen Marie Antoinette's _court and, certainly, with _King Louis XIV's _court. Probably, they are right. I share this point of view."

"Why?"

"Actually, _Napoleon III's_ court was very much similar to _King Louis XVI _and_ Queen Marie Antoinette's_ court. And it was so not only because _Empress Eugénie_ had tried to imitate _Queen Marie Antoinette_, but also because _Napoleon III_ took a Napoleonic style with his own uniforms and military postures. Together with _Empress Eugénie_, they somehow tried to link their imperial reign with the late 18th century – _King Louis XVI_ and _Queen Marie Antoinette's_ reign - and the early 19th century – _Napoleon I's_ reign," François explained.

"Was it a pure imitation?" she asked.

"It wasn't a pure imitation. I would say, it was an imitation with some modifications. An example could be the fact that _Empress Eugénie's_ dresses were similar to _Queen Marie Antoinette's_ style, but anyway, much more classical."

François told Scarlett that _Empress Eugénie_ had such an obsessive desire to be more like _Queen Marie Antoinette_, _King Louis XVI's_ wife, that the majority of the rooms at _the Élysée Palace_ and _Château de Compiègne_, her favorite residences, were decorated in the late Rococo style, which started to fall out of fashion by the end of the 18th century and was largely supplanted by the Neoclassic style. At the same time, _Queen_ _Marie Antoinette_ was sometimes credited for refining the Rococo style in the late 18th century after the Rococo style had been popular in the time of _Madame de Pompadour_, _King Louis XV's_ most brilliant, most influential, and most beloved mistress. What was developed at Napoleon III's court was named _Napoleon III style_, expressing the features of the Baroque style, the Rococo style, and the Renaissance style, supplemented by certain Napoleonic elements.

_Empress Eugénie_ had collected memorabilia and portraits of _Queen Marie Antoinette_ and had her apartments in _the Tuileries_. In her bedroom there was a single picture of _Marie Antoinette_. Eugénie even insisted on visiting the cell where _Queen Marie Antoinette_ had been imprisoned. The same influence was in fashion: Eugénie adapted and modified _Marie Antoinette's_ extravagant style to a more classical style of _the Second French Empire_. It looked very nice, very elegant, and fashionable, but Annabelle and François had always thought that _Empress Eugénie_ had lacked her own individuality as she had copied _Marie Antoinette_ in many things.

"So _Empress Eugénie_ wanted to be associated with the beheaded queen," Scarlett summed up.

"I think it was a sort of political astuteness for_ Empress Eugénie_. However, she was indeed fascinated with _Queen Marie Antoinette, _like _Napoleon III _had his own idol – his Uncle _Napoleon Bonaparte _or_ Napoleon I_. Personally, I deeply sympathized to the Empress because she loved _Napoleon III_, and everybody saw that. Annabelle and I discussed the Empress and the Emperor marriage many times." François gave a lonesome smile to her. "The only truth is that _Napoleon III's_ court was a place where person's latently sinful evolved into sinful and Corinthian. The life at the Imperial court was disastrously sybarite and scandalous."

"I can try to imagine."

"No, Scarlett, you cannot."

"Why?"

"You cannot do this because you were born in the South of the United States."

"Oh, I comprehend."

"_Il est généralement l'homme qui attaque. Quant à moi, je me défends, et je vais souvent capituler._ _(It is usually the man who attacks. As for me, I defend myself, and I often capitulate),_" he quoted.

"Who said this?"

"It is how _Napoleon III_ referred to his behavior relative to women and his numerous mistresses. He justified his voluptuousness by these words," François explained.

Scarlett laughed. "Well then," she said as her laugh died in the stillness of the room. "_Napoleon III_ seems to be an out-and-out womanizer."

François finished the glass of water. As he stood from the chair, he continued talking. "Yes, Scarlett, it is so. _Napoleon III's_ amorous affairs were not trivial and short. The worst was that they distracted him from governing, brutally affected his relationship with _Empress Eugénie_, and diminished him in the views of other European courts. It was a great problem. My estimate is that the Emperor had at least eight mistresses, with whom he had relations of more than five years," he stopped. He put the glass back on the table and came back to the chair, then stood frozen.

"I have also heard that _Napoleon III_ had been an enlightened statesman. Besides, his reign was an era of prosperity and industrialization in France. The only renovation of Paris under _Haussmann_ was tremendous! Annabelle told me what Paris had looked like before that renovation. The city was rebuilt entirely."

"However, after the defeat in _the Franco-Prussian War of 1870-1871_, the country sank into the deepest economic depression. I hope you don't have money in French banks, Scarlett."

She smiled. "No."

"It is good for you." He pulled the chair closer to the sofa where Scarlett was sitting. "Inter alia, Annabelle was rumored to be _Napoleon III_'s mistress."

She waggled her head in disagreement. "No, Annabelle wasn't _Napoleon III's_ lover. She told me that it had been only rumors. It was _Napoleon III_ who wanted Annabelle to become his mistress."

François's shoulders slumped under the weight of his fatigue as he collapsed into the chair across from him. He stared at Scarlett. "I know that she wasn't. She said the same to me. Almost always I could define whether she lied or not, despite her brilliant mask of polite indifference. The only exception was our last meeting in June 1870."

"I am happy that you know that, François."

"Scarlett, tell me one thing," he began and stopped himself, as though afraid to ask.

"Please ask."

"Does Annabelle still have as many lovers as she used to have when she had just joined the Imperial court in 1861? I know that she was faithful to her second husband _Count Etienne de Brienne_ and then to me, because she entirely ignored her late husband _Count Emmanuel de Morville_."

Scarlett laughed at him. "François, if you ask me such questions, then you don't know Annabelle very well."

"Scarlett, I don't know what I have to think. Annabelle was pregnant by me and pushed me away. It sounds strange for me."

Scarlett smiled moodily. Now she needed to be careful in what she was going to say. "François, Annabelle didn't know that she was carrying your child when she had broken your relations. She learnt about the fact only later. Probably, I don't know something, but what I know is that Annabelle no longer has as flamboyant and sybarite life as she used to have at the Imperial court. You should ask her about the details." She decided not to tell François that Annabelle had never been with another man after their romance had ended in June 1870. She couldn't allow raising François's male self-conceit and self-confidence.

"Beyond controversy, I would be interested to ask Annabelle," François said and smiled veiledly. "Annabelle was even a lover of _Jasper Alastair Robillard-Arden, the heir apparent to 8th Duke of Aylesbury and 10th Marquess of Wycombe_. I know that Lord Wycombe even proposed to Annabelle in 1865. I suppose that if he proposed, then he was strongly in love with Annabelle, but she pushed him away and soon got married to _Count Etienne de Brienne_. I have seen Jasper Robillard-Arden many times in the past years in Vienna, and he has been rumored to have a love affair with a daughter of a local baron. Perhaps, he will finally marry and settle down."

"It is true. Philippe has been very displeased with the love affair between Annabelle and Jasper."

François chuckled. "Of course, especially after Lord Wycombe married and was divorced in nine months."

For Scarlett it was unusual to refer to Jasper as Lord Wycombe because she had always called him simply by his first name - Jasper, but François was too polite to drop the titles.

Scarlett's eyes widened. "What? What? Jasper is divorced?"

"Yes." François laughed. "You don't know, do you?"

Scarlett was at loss. "I don't know."

"The Robillard-Ardens hate to remember that fact because the scandal was dreadful. Annabelle and Lord Wycombe were very young, and Annabelle had just widowed in 1865. I guess you all are approximately of the same age – around thirty years old. In several months Annabelle said that she had never loved Lord Wycombe and they had broken their relations. The young man was suffering and found his solace in the warm embrace of an English widow. That widow said that she had got pregnant by him, and, being an honorable man, Lord Wycombe married her. In nine months his wife gave birth to a brown-colored boy. You should understand what it means, especially if you remember Lord Wycombe's only a little swarthy skin. Since then the Robillard-Ardens have been trying to forget about that scandal."

Scarlett was in horror. "God's nightgown! It is awful!"

"I know that Annabelle doesn't like talking about this precedent because she was indirectly guilty in Jasper' disgrace. At least she felt so. I assume that cold, dispassionate Jasper had been suffering very much. Aylesbury had been shocked with that story. Everybody was shocked."

"This is disgusting!" she admitted. "But Jasper is such a dashing, handsome man. And he even proposed to Annabelle." She tossed her head in disbelief. "I don't understand. Positively, I don't understand. So many women are dreaming of such a husband as Jasper."

François laughed. "Of course, many ladies would love to get married to Lord Wycombe, especially given the fact that Aylesbury would receive the second dukedom soon and Lord Wycombe no longer would be Lord Wycombe - he would become the Duke. The Duke of Aylesbury deserves this reward because he had done so much for the British Crown in British India." He smiled artistically. "Scarlett, I think that at times women don't understand what they are doing and why they are acting in a particular way. The same is true for men. When we are very young, emotions often rule our behavior. The same happened with Annabelle. She was very young, and I don't blame her for her relations with Aylesbury's son. His lordship Jasper Robillard-Arden was very young, while _Count Etienne de Brienne_ was twelve years older than Annabelle was, and in 1866 she got married to him. I can understand her choice because Monsieur Etienne de Brienne was more mature that Lord Wycombe was."

"Perhaps, I can also understand her," Scarlett admitted. "She was very young."

"Obviously young." François nodded. "I know that Annabelle had also been suffering when Lord Wycombe had had to marry that widow and then later he had been divorced. The Duke of Aylesbury undertook all the necessary steps to have the divorce decree issued as soon as it was possible. There was the scandal in the House of Lords, but Aylesbury made a petition to her Imperial Majesty _Queen Victoria_ and to _John Russell, 1st Earl Russell and the Prime Minister_ at that time. As the fact of an adultery was apparent, Lord Wycombe finally became a free man in around two months after the birth of that child."

"Philippe has too many connections to get the divorce soon," Scarlett assumed.

"Assuredly," François said. He crossed hands on his broad chest. "Scarlett, you see that your divorce is not the only case among the Robillards. Well, divorces are possible in conservative England and even in more conservative, archaic South of the States."

She smiled wistfully at him. "Yes."

Now Scarlett realized why Jasper and Annabelle had ignored each other between 1866 and 1870, but finally forgave each other in 1871. Scarlett was happy that now Jasper and Annabelle always were like old, good friends.

François let out an ambiguous laugh. "Annabelle is a real _femme fatale_."

"Like I am," Scarlett smiled wistfully. She didn't know what else to say.

"Believe me, there is much more fatality in Annabelle than in you, Scarlett," François stated.

The green eyes sparkled. "Maybe yes maybe no."

François's thoughts came back to Annabelle. "_Napoleon III's_ court…" François drawled. "It was a crowd of pleasure-seekers, harlequins, intriguers, and poisoners. At times, I think that _Napoleon I's_ court was more natural than _Napoleon III's_ court, probably, because _Napoleon I_ was the first Emperor of France and _Napoleon III_ was indenting to impersonify and even emulate his great Uncle. A romantic glow over the shimmering spacious ballrooms was just a facade. Everything was just an unnatural exterior: a buzzing of aristocratic voices in the shining salons; a great multitude of vivacious nights after nights spent at masked balls and simple balls at the Emperor's Palace – _the Élysée Palace;_ the Marie-Antoinette-like style in the dressing of the Imperial court, which was modified by _Empress Eugénie_; sounds of sentimental, romantic music - _Ludwig van Beethoven_, _Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart_, _Georg Christoph Wagenseil_, _Franz Schubert_, and other Austrian composers**. **_Empress Eugénie_ had special preference for them, and their pieces of art quickly became the music of the Imperial court. Neither Annabelle nor I had ever loved such a strong preference for Austrian music as Italian and French composers were mostly ignored. Everything was a facade which defended the utter misery of the court: _Empress Eugénie's_ deep unhappiness in her marriage, _Napoleon III's_ continuous amorous escapades, and numerous love affairs between the courtiers. _Napoleon III's_ court was a perfect example of the Corinthian lifestyle."

Scarlett was happy that she had many conversations with the Robillards about the Kings and the Emperors. She was happy that Annabelle had told her so much about the life at the Imperial court. She knew many things from those ones François was talking about, but she wanted to talk to this man and to listen to him. Scarlett restrained her smile as François pronounced the word "Corinthian." If not for her long, usually night chats with Annabelle about social life in France, Scarlett would never understand what "Corinthian" had meant in reality – the same as rotten-hearted and debauched. Once Annabelle used the term "Corinthian lifestyle" and explained that Corinth had been the most morally permissive, self-indulgent, and degenerate city of the ancient world, the city where the inhabitants had accumulated great wealth, but had led morally decadent lifestyle. Oh, God, how naive and under-educated Scarlett was when she lived in the South. She remembered her mother Ellen and Mammy's lessons with bitterness as she always tried to avoid everything connected with books and studying. Now she felt that she had probably been wrong, and it was so because she had met her French relatives. The Robillards and her new life in France gave so much to her.

She glared at him in amazement. "Why did _Empress Eugénie_ have such a strong preference for Austrian composers? She wasn't born in Austria."

"You are right, Scarlett. _Empress Eugénie_ was born in Spain. However, there was a strong preference to many Austrian things at the Imperial Court. Among the friendships formed by _Empress Eugénie_, her friendship with _Princess Metternich_, who was the young wife of Austrian Ambassador in Paris, was very special. I would say that no lady of the Imperial Court was so much talked of, except for _Princess Metternich_ and, of course, _Napoleon III_'s numerous mistresses and unique _femmes fatales_, like Annabelle. Being favorites at the Austrian court, the Metternichs had come to Paris at the beginning of 1860s. It happened shortly after the conclusion of the peace between Italy, France, and Austria, and soon after _Napoleon III's_ marriage. At their very first meeting, both _Empress Eugénie_ and _Princess Metternich_ had developed the greatest admiration for each other. Soon they became close friends. _Empress Eugénie's_ life wasn't very bright because _Napoleon III_ had had many lovers, and she was left alone in her misery. The passion which Eugénie had inspired _Napoleon III_ cooled rather quickly, and, submitting to his true nature – polygamy relations with many women, the Emperor began to search for love beyond his matrimony, although he had always continued to treat his wife with the same respect and even admiration. I cannot tell that _Napoleon III_ ignored her completely as I saw the opposite: he was polite and even sweet, but the passion evaporated. In those doleful minutes, _Princess Metternich_ had been Eugénie's confidante and had helped her to survive through many bitter hours. As they were so close, the result was that everything Austrian, including music, was very popular at the court," François explained.

"How unlucky _Empress Eugénie_ was!" Scarlett explained as she truly felt sorry for that woman. She was interested to know about the life of _Empress Eugénie_ in whose honor she had named her first child – Bonnie or Eugenia Victoria.

"I daresay _Empress Eugénie_ was one of the most unhappy women at _Napoleon III's_ court." François paused to clear his throat. He looked thoughtful. "_Napoleon III's_ numerous amorous escapades twisted her life into misery. But it is always usual the either the King's or the Emperor's courts."

"I see."

"Annabelle…" François whispered into silence. "Annabelle was a unique lady at _Napoleon III's_ court. She was breathtakingly beautiful, one of the most beautiful women I have ever met. I have always been impressed by her nearly classical, perfect, yet cold beauty. Her face was like a statue of a Roman or Greek Goodness, and it took my break away at the first sight. I met her at _Jardin du Luxembourg (Luxembourg Gardens) _during _Napoleon III _and _Duchess Albine de Persigny's _stroll. Relationship with _Duchess Albine de Persigny_ was the most long-handed for the Emperor. That stroll happened in August 1869. As I was walking in the crowd of the courtiers, I suddenly noticed a tall blonde man with the most beautiful woman I have ever met. He was holding her right hand and was smiling at _Napoleon III_, while she was fabricating her smiles. The Emperor, his mistress, the man and the woman were talking to each other. Then her grey eyes locked with my eyes for a second, and my heart nearly stopped. It seemed nobody noticed deep sadness and despair in her grey eyes, but I noticed that. I knew from the first instance that she had been a master of polite indifference and French courtesy, but, oddly enough, I could unmask her rather quickly, in contrast to other courtiers. I didn't know that woman. I asked my friend who that woman was, and he said that it was a star of the Imperial court, inimitable and unforgettable Annabelle de Robillard. My friend also told me that she had got married to _Count Emmanuel de Morville_ several days ago, before the stroll in the park. When I saw them, _Napoleon III_ and his mistress were congratulating Annabelle and Emmanuel with their wedding. Annabelle and, I think, your friends, the brothers d'Aubusson - Monsieur Geoffroy and Monsieur Armand - were in the crowd of the courtiers at that moment. So I had been late only for several days before _grey-eyed Despoina _got married_."_

Scarlett narrowed her eyes. "_Grey-eyed Despoina?_"

"Annabelle was nicknamed _grey-eyed Despoina_ by the courtiers. Despoina was the daughter of Demeter and Poseidon and a beautiful goddess of mysteries in Greek mythology. The courtiers called Annabelle so because she had always attracted attention to herself, but there was always enigma in her image and in her life. Nobody understood her. She was a mystery for the court, and it gravitated to her. At _Napoleon III's_ court those idlers and clowns were obsessed with Greek mythology and nicknames."

Scarlett laughed. "Oh, I remembered! Annabelle told me about that once, but this nickname is no longer valid. After _Count Emmanuel de Morville's_ suicide in 1871, Annabelle became known only as a tragic _femme fatale_ whose husbands always die."

"Oh God!" François sighed heavily. "But anyway _femme fatale_ sounds much better. And it suits Annabelle more than her first nickname. I have always considered the phenomenon of nicknaming the courtiers in honor of Greek or Roman Gods to be entertaining. As I know, your friend Monsieur Armand is still called _ash blonde_ _Adonis_."

"It is so, due to Armand's classical, perfect handsomeness of a Greek or a Roman God."

"_Duke Armand de Roannais_ is too handsome for his own bad and good," François said.

She sighed. "I agree."

* * *

_The new chapter has finally been uploaded. I am not sure about this chapter, but I decided to post it. I tried to make history alive in the context of Annabelle and François's love story. In the next chapter there will be Napoleon III, his mistress Duchess Albine de Persigny, Annabelle, her husband, and François, as well as Annabelle's tragic mystery. It will be quite romantic and tragic, or at least I think so._

_I am sorry for many formalities in the chapters with François. But I cannot imagine polite, aristocratic François referring to Jasper using his first name when they are not friends. So he is calling him Lord Wycombe or Jasper Robillard-Arden. The same is fair relative to Armand and Noëlle (she was already mentioned in the story in the beginning). Perhaps, now you like François more as he warmed up to Scarlett._

_The story about Armand was just an example what could happen in wicked aristocratic world. Besides, Armand was mentioned as Scarlett and Annabelle's friend. He will also play an important role in the poisoning component (it doesn't mean that he is the poisoner, he can be the victim or be threatened to be poisoned, for example). _

_Well, I know that there are many details, and I am sorry if you don't like them. It is just that I wanted to create a story also about the Robillards as they were never characterized in the original novel. I also wanted to reflect some differences between the South of the States and Europe. Besides, I have always loved to read about the life of various courts of Europe._

_I would be grateful if you will let me know your true opinion. I am not against constructive criticism – I welcome it. Many reviews and private messages helped me improve the story._

_If you see any mismatches or maladjustments in the story, please let me know. For example, it can be so in the era-related details as I can miss something. I can also state that someone's eyes were blue and later discover that I made a mistake and in twenty chapters made them green – it is possible for heroes who don't appear in the story regularly as I might simply forget something._

_Again, I am very sorry for my old nasty comment when I was attacked by a gang of spammers. Please don't accept it on your account. Those people were indeed not normal, and if you had seen those comments in reality, you would have understood me. I would wish to have this topic is closed. Again, I am sorry._

_In Chapters 76-77 the plot twists again. In Chapter 76 you will realize who is the villain from Charleston. The espionage line comes to the first line for some time, and it is heavily interchanged with the history of British Empire in Asia. I couldn't make Philippe a spy in France or in United States: it would be absurd for him because he was born in Savannah and was French by blood. Therefore I chose British India, which seems to be exotic and even interesting, at least for me._

_Scarlett and Rhett's relations will be progressing. I am trying to make them closer, but it seems to be a difficult task to write, as I see now._

_I was also asked about the difference between Marquess and Marquis. It is not a typo in the story: in England we have a Marquess of a Manor, in Europe – a Marquis. The wife of a Marquess is a Marchioness in England or a Marquise elsewhere in Europe. The same situation is with an Earl in its English version and a Count in the version of Continental Europe. Honestly, I made the same mistake with Marquis/Marquess in the beginning of a story and had to correct it later, around five months ago._

_Have a good week. Thank you._

_The next chapter is written, and I need to find time to edit it._


	70. Chapter 70

**Chapter 70**

**Aristocracy and _Napoleon III's _court, part 2: Annabelle and François amid Corinthian life**

"Annabelle de Robillard…" François drawled. His amber eyes turned haze as his mind drifted back to Annabelle. "Although I was out of France when Annabelle was flourishing at the court, I had often heard about her from my friends' letters. Together with some other rare beauties, she was a profound star at _Napoleon III's_ court, widely spoken about and publicly admired. But Annabelle was different. She was not a simple coquette and an idler. By the time I met her, her life had been twisted by cruel fate and by aristocracy in such a manner that others could have never imagined. At first, fate and aristocracy twisted her life by giving such strange parents to her – Vincent, who was pure French, and Gwendolyn, who was the daughter of the Scottish Earl and was banished from her family after she had got married to the French nobleman. Annabelle's parents wanted to force her to join the convent, and thus she fled _Normandie_. She had to marry that old rich aristocrat - _Marquis Paul de Castelmoron_. Paul was very old and half mad, always intoxicated by large amounts of cognac. If Annabelle told you what he had done to her, then you wouldn't sleep for many nights. I don't think she had revealed these awful things to you as Annabelle must have been careful to preserve your Southern virtues. We had been together for nine months and in love, as I thought, but even at that time sometimes she was sobbing so hysterically in the nights in her nightmares as she had been dreaming of that old Castelmoron that my heart almost stopped." He paused.

"Oh God," Scarlett nearly moaned. "Annabelle is still having these terrible nightmares. I witnessed them several times. "

"Good Heavens! Even now she is having them!" François shut his eyes.

"When Annabelle wakes in cold sweat, she always curses _Marquis Paul de Castelmoron_. I know some things, but not everything. She doesn't like the topic about her first husband."

"Annabelle won't tell you, Scarlett."

"I won't pressure her. However, I have always thought that she didn't tell me something about her past."

"Scarlett, you are right. There are some things Annabelle will reveal to nobody."

"Please tell me, François."

"I can tell you one thing, which you probably don't know. It will show the dark side of the pompous aristocratic marriages. However, I cannot tell you everything. You must ask Annabelle."

"I would love to listen, François."

"When _Marquis Paul de Castelmoron_ died, Annabelle got married to _Count Etienne de Brienne_, a dashing courtier and seemingly honorable man, although I had never personally liked him – there was something slippery in his character and demeanor. He was the best husband she had ever had, as she had always said. And then that calamity happened when Monsieur Etienne and little Lancelot were poisoned. There were rumors in diplomatic circles that Etienne had been _Napoleon III's_ agent, but he had indeed been dead, even if it had been so. Etienne's death had been the fact. And later Annabelle had got married to that coward Monsieur Emmanuel, just several days before we met each other at _Jardin du Luxembourg_. From the first sight I wanted to talk to her and to let her pour her heart to me, as I seemed to be the only one among the courtiers to see her true identity. I knew that she had had many lovers in her early youth, but I didn't care for that. There was something innocent, nearly infant in the glance of her grey eyes, in her manner she talked, in her posture, in her demeanor. And there also was great pain and fatality. I saw those things and they in combination attracted me to her. Annabelle took more than my heart. As time was passing, more and more often our eyes met in the crowd during the Emperor's stroll or in the ballroom or during routs and card-parties. And then one day fate joined us forever."

François recalled that night, fateful night when his love story with Annabelle began. He was talking to Scarlett about the life at _Napoleon III's_ court in a proper tone, although at times it was difficult for him. He tried not to shock Scarlett with all the indulgence and the dark facts of the life of the European beau monde.

They were in _Château de Compiègne_ at that fateful night of October 1869 as there was a gorgeous masked ball there. Located in _the Oise department_ in _Picardy_, northern France, _Compiègne_ was a royal residence built for _King_ _Louis XV_ and restored by _Napoleon I_. _Compiègne_ was one of three seats of the royal government, the others being _Versailles_ and _Fontainebleau_. "_Compiègne_ speaks of _Napoleon_ as _Versailles_ does of _Louis XIV,_" was said about the place. From 1856 and thereafter, _Napoleon III_ and _Empress Eugénie_ made the place their autumn residence. They also often visited _Compiègne _in the summer.

_Empress Eugénie_ has always been inextricably associated with high, elegant fashion. With her beautiful blue eyes, glossy brown hair, perfect complexion, and tiny feet_,_she was a fashion icon in France in the 1850s and the 1860s. _Empress Eugénie_ liked the English fashion designer _Charles Frederic Worth_ and he came to France to work was as _Imperial couturier_. The Empress met him as she had seen and adored the ball gown of _Princess Pauline Metternich_ at a _Palais de Tuileries Ball_ in 1859. Ladies copied the Empress's hairstyles, as well as her dresses and her manners. Her name was also applied to a myriad fashion styles and accessories.

Only few ladies in the high society didn't behave so. And the fact that somebody didn't accept the general fashion and style of the Imperial court was rather scandalous. It was worse if somebody had constantly disregarded _Empress Eugénie's_ style as such a person had risked becoming a forced outcast at the court. Often, these ladies were referred to as _femmes fatales,_ and Annabelle was one of them. She didn't care what the Empress had been wearing in order to pierce to the heart of her royal husband who had numerous mistresses. Annabelle did what she wanted, and her taste for dresses was very different from that of _Empress Eugénie_. Annabelle was much more extravagant.

On that day _Empress Eugénie_ was wearing the fashionable, lavender ball gown, with the V-shaped neckline, modestly cut, with the series of narrow flounces to the waist. She added the lovely Peruzzi cut diamonds jewelry set, consisting of the bracelet, the pair of earrings, and the huge, heavy necklace. Her dress was very elegant and eye-catching, and with her blue eyes she reminded a charming, new-blown violet. She was not simply moving in the room: it seemed that she was graciously flying from one lady to another. _Empress Eugénie_ was wearing her skirts very wide and ample, which was a very agreeable, pleasant fashion for all Parisian ladies at that time. That manner added to the ladies charm and attractiveness, and the Empress wasn't the exception in that case. Although a tiny black mask was covering her face, everybody could identify who the beautiful violet in the lavender evening attire was.

François recalled how Annabelle had looked at that night. She was breathtakingly beautiful. She was wearing the vivid golden ball gown, with the low V-shaped neckline cut so low in front as to be scarcely decent, with the medium-length train, with the small, hardly noticeable vent on the back side of her skirts, which was meant to stress the graciousness of her legs as she was moving. Even Annabelle's mask, covering half of her face up to her lips, was golden. Annabelle's attire had been chosen perfectly to contrast and stress the alabaster color of her skin. She had also chosen magnificent jewelry set - the oval-cut, fabulous, deep reddish purple amethyst set, consisting of the necklace, the bracelet, and the pair of earrings, each item matching another one. It was the fairytale dress, her jewel set - one of the most fabulous, François guessed. The large amethyst brooch was fastened on her left shoulder. Only Annabelle's hair was in _Empress Eugénie's_ style as it was made in the so-called "imperial" hairstyle – there was a broad tress of her dark blonde curls on the crown of her head in a diadem form, and flat strays of hair didn't cover her ears. But even in her hairstyle she was rather extravagant: she added several purple violets and buttercups twined in her hair, and that ensemble perfectly matched her amethysts jewelry set.

Annabelle's classical beauty and her jewels flashed very brightly as she stepped into the glittering fairyland of the salon, her husband _Count Emmanuel de Morville_ at her right side. Grasps and groans flooded the room: there was an answering flash of envy in the eyes of every woman and of their male escorts too, although the men's desires were more on the lascivious side of the matter than simply envy to Annabelle's classical, stunning beauty and to her magnificent gown and jewels. She looked so fantastic, like a gilded statue in the sublime extravagance of the Baroque style. All the men had noticed the perfection of Annabelle's facial features and figure, the purity of the breast above the neckline, as well as the steel brilliance of her grey eyes. Although Annabelle's true state of mind was much far from the desire to attract men, it happened automatically, without her will - she aroused desire in men. Of course, François noticed that too.

_Empress Eugénie_ also noticed Annabelle and smiled because in general the Empress had liked Annabelle and had considered her striving to fashionable, exquisite, oversubtle extravagance to be the part of her unconventional character. Annabelle had never wanted to become _Napoleon III's _mistress and in public disregarded his attention, trying to turn everything into a simply, innocent joke. There were many rumors about Annabelle and the Emperor's love affair, but the Empress knew that they had been just rumors.

In the middle of the masked ball, around two in the morning, François desperately wanted to leave the stuffy ballroom and went to the garden to have some fresh air. He was bored with the idle useless talk and the buzzing of the courtiers. Nobody accompanied him. Having spent several minutes in the garden, he was going to return into the Palace, but he was distracted. François stopped in the shadow of a tall beech, as there was a beech alley behind him. He saw two dark silhouettes: two women were whispering something into each other's ears.

As he strained his eyesight, he managed to distinguish who those two women were. There were brilliant _Annabelle Françoise Julienne de Robillard de Bréveaux, Countess de Morville_, and _Napoleon III's_ mistress – _Albine Marie Napoléone Aglaé d'Elchingen, Duchess de Persigny_, or simply _Duchess Albine de Persigny_. Despite the fact that she turned thirty seven in 1869, _Duchess Albine de Persigny_ was again pregnant by the Emperor. In 1869, _Napoleon III_ was rumored to be bored with the Duchess as his preferences shifted to _Virginia Oldoini, Countess di Castiglione_, who was an artist and a famous beauty. It was rumored that Virginia had been sent as a spy to the Imperial court by the Italians to influence the Emperor's politics. _Countess Virginia di Castiglione _had already been _Napoleon III's _lover, but they broke their relations several years ago. Now Virginia again became his official mistress. _Duchess Albine de Persigny _was so distressed that she could have behaved inadequately even in public.

François knew that Annabelle had become Albine's confident. As François was watching them, his anxiety was rising. Suddenly, two men appeared in distance. François observed how they were approaching Annabelle and Albine. They were Annabelle's husband _Count Emmanuel de Morville _and his Imperial Majesty _Napoleon III_.

_Louis Napoleon_ or _Napoleon III_ was the son of _King Louis I of Holland_ and _Queen Hortense_. His height was small, but his stoutness and shortness almost disappeared when he mounted on horseback. He looked very well on horseback, but not so well on his feet. But he loved women and they loved him. He had dark brown hair and dark brown eyebrows, deep grey eyes, a small mouth, thick lips. His chin was pointed, his face - oval and handsome. He was quite masculine and had broad shoulders. At least, it was how _Prince Louis Napoleon_ looked like from 1840 to 1848. As he became the Emperor in December 1852, he changed but a little. However, in 1869-1870, _Napoleon III_ was sixty-one years old, and he still had many mistresses, while his courtiers were leading the most sybarite life in Europe. In the meantime, _Napoleon III_ no longer was a sort of that handsome lover whom many ladies were dreaming of having in their bed day in and day out. Fewer and fewer women at the court considered the Emperor to typify a hidden troubadour who glorified eternal love throughout ages. Yet, the Emperor still was not ready to give up his Corinthian life.

"The Emperor is happy to be with the wives of his ministers; he spends his nights with the most pleasant of them," the courtiers were whispering between each other. There was always a hint on the Emperor's mistress _Duchess Albine de Persigny_, the wife of _Duke Jean de Persigny_, one of _Napoleon III's _ministers and supporters.

François recognized that Annabelle had been trembling, either in fear or in disgust, he mused, but not because of cold. He saw as she crossed her arms on her chest as though in a defensive pose. She leaned against a tree beside the path where she had first caught the sight of the coming men. As _Napoleon III_ and Emmanuel reached them, they began to talk, their voices taking a higher octave.

"Albine, darling, please go inside the building. I was looking for you," _Napoleon III_ said.

Albine shivered. "Your Imperial Majesty, I would probably want to stay here a little more," she admitted in a low voice.

_Napoleon III_ glanced down at his mistress. "My love, pregnancy doesn't fit you as it makes you too sensitive even to my voice. In contrast to you, _Countess Annabelle de Morville_ isn't so sensitive."

Annabelle didn't blink, but François instinctively guessed that she had been angry. "Your Imperial Majesty, I think I should leave with my husband."

"As you wish, Madame Annabelle de Morville," the Emperor scoffed. His eyes were hungrily staring at her.

"Your Imperial Majesty, thank you for your congratulations with our wedding," Emmanuel said and made a perfect curtsey. He looked at Annabelle, his wife.

"Thank you, your Imperial Majesty," Annabelle added and forced a smile.

_Napoleon III_ smiled sweetly. "I was really happy when you, Monsieur Emmanuel, married Madame Annabelle. I think you are a remarkable couple."

Annabelle felt that she had wanted to laugh, to laugh violently and uncontrollably, to laugh at the Emperor and at the absurdity of the situation. She knew that _Napoleon III_ had been dreaming of making her his next mistress. And now he said that he had blessed Annabelle and Emmanuel's union. But she couldn't laugh right into his face as he was the Emperor.

Annabelle smiled sweetly and made a courtesy. "Thank you very much for your good wishes, your Imperial Majesty."

_Napoleon III_ only smiled at both Annabelle and Emmanuel. He glared at _Duchess Albine de Persigny_. "Albine, darling, are you tired?"

"Yes, I am tired, your Imperial Majesty," she said. Now she hoped that they would leave soon as she knew that _Napoleon III_ had wanted Annabelle as a woman. Albine also knew that Annabelle hadn't wanted the Emperor.

Emmanuel stared at Annabelle. "Darling, shall we go to our bedroom now?"

Annabelle smiled sweetly at her husband. "Emmanuel, I agree. We are better to leave now." Then she turned her head to Albine. "Albine, darling, please go inside. Now you should take excellent care of yourself. You cannot catch cold. Think about your child you are carrying. We will see each other tomorrow during the stroll."

"Thank you, Annabelle," Albine's small voice resonated in stillness.

Annabelle was Albine's only pillow for tears in the last months because her husband _Duke Jean de Persigny_, one of _Napoleon III's _ministers, had almost completely estranged himself from his wife. Never would _Duke Jean de Persigny _forget how _Napoleon III_ during an official dinner at _the Élysée Palace_ on _Rue du Faubourg-St-Honoré_, in front of all his ministers, announced that he was going to meet _Duchess Albine de Persigny_ after the session. Indeed, _Duke Jean de Persigny _must have felt as an utter fool and a cuckold. He felt shame and offense. He was fed up with being a cuckold and enraged with that long, rich for various events and for illegitimate children, scandalous love affair between _Napoleon III_ and his wife Albine.

_Napoleon III_ took Albine at her right elbow in order to leave. Then he suddenly turned around and said: "Madame Annabelle, you were so beautiful today! Goodnight, _Count and Countess de Morville_."

"Goodnight, your Imperial Majesty," Annabelle and Emmanuel replied in unison.

And then _Napoleon III_ leaned forward, bent his head and whispered into Annabelle's ear: "Madame Annabelle, if you are bored with your dear husband, you know where my rooms are."

Albine filched at that _Napoleon III's _act. François felt as though he could feel how Albine's pale face cringed in pain and in anger. _Napoleon III_ was a straightforward, at times even rude man, even when he was dealing with women whom he had bedded or presumed to bed. Emmanuel even didn't blink. Annabelle was keeping silent. Then Annabelle made a gracious curtsey and Emmanuel bowed low, and Albine and the Emperor left.

François was silently cursing and guessing whether Annabelle had been the Emperor's mistress. As the Emperor and his mistress _Duchess Albine de Persigny_ disappeared into the distance, Annabelle and Emmanuel started talking.

Emmanuel gripped Annabelle's forearms and was nearly dragging her somewhere. She was struggling. Then Emmanuel released her, and she bounced back from him as a wildcat. As she stepped into the moonlight and as François strained his eyes, he distinguished as the ravaged pain slashed across her face in golden mask. Emmanuel murmured something unclear. However seeing her rage and her madness, he did nothing to stop her.

"Damn you, Emmanuel! How I hate what I did! I hate you! I hate myself!" Annabelle cried out.

Emmanuel stepped forward to her. "You still don't want to sleep with me, my love?" he asked calmly.

"I had no right to get married to you! I don't love you! I am a fool that I got married to you because of boredom and because of unwillingness to be alone!" Annabelle brought up her fists and slammed them against his chest. "I was a fool to accept your marriage proposal. Oh God, I hate you and myself!"

"I love you, Annabelle. I have loved you since the moment I saw you in the ballroom several years ago. I love you and I want you!"

She frantically shook her head. "No!"

"I am your husband! I have marital rights in our bedroom," he protested.

"Never! Never! Never!" Annabelle screamed.

Emmanuel gripped her left shoulder. Rage manifested his face. "We had a wedding night and two more nights. Those nights were not enough. I want you every night. I want to be with you. And you will be mine."

Annabelle's voice was like high soprano, the highest female voice. "No! Otherwise I am not Annabelle de Robillard!" With a sudden movement, she wrenched herself free from Emmanuel's grasp, leaving him holding nothing but several violets that fell from her hair.

"Annabelle, be reasonable. I am your husband," Emmanuel said harshly.

"And you agreed to go to _Compiègne_ when you didn't even discuss it with me. What was I, just some possession, some lifeless doll you didn't want broken?"

"Annabelle, the Emperor had sent the invitation to us, and we had to come."

She interrupted him. "Bloody Hell! I don't care for this old womanizer, even if he is the Emperor! I had never been in _Napoleon III's_ bed! And I will never become his mistress! I am fed up with this damned Imperial court! I don't want to see them anymore."

Emmanuel stepped closer to her and pulled her to his hands. "Shhh, you fool," he admonished. He leaned forward to grip her arm. "Never say this in _Compiègne_. Are you mad? Do you intend to become a forced outcast among the beau monde of Paris?"

Annabelle began to try to be released from the stinking embrace. She started cursing and screaming and struggling, and her thin, piercing screams uttered on a high note of hysteria.

"It is just that I don't care!" she snapped. She looked up at him. Through the slits in her mask, her eyes were blazing with anger. "I shouldn't have got married to you. I harmed both of us. If you can, Emmanuel, then you must forgive me."

"Annabelle, I love you."

Annabelle laughed. Half severely, half teasingly, she spoke. "You never know the moment when to proclaim your love and when to avow your hatred."

"I have never hated you."

"Three days ago you said that you hated me."

His eyes were piercing hers. "I said that because you had infuriated me. In fact, I love you."

"Don't say this, Emmanuel. Please, don't say this," she half pleaded, half ordered.

He ignored her admonition. "I had loved you when you were married to _Count Etienne de Brienne_. And I proposed when you were finally free, even after that tragedy, my love."

As Annabelle recalled most vividly, most clearly, her son's death, she cursed. "Damn you, Emmanuel! Don't remind me about that tragedy," she rasped in furious accusation.

Emmanuel attempted to make his voice sound gentler. "I am very sorry, darling."

"Holy mackerel! You mustn't love me! You have to forgive me that I accepted your proposal. I was a fool."

He made an attempt to reach for her, but she jerked away. "Annabelle, my love, I have always thought that your half Scottish blood could make you so violent, and I don't like that."

"Don't you dare tell me about my Scottish blood when you are half French, half Hungarian."

Emmanuel raised his voice. "I hate your Scottish blood that gives you so much uncontrollable violence. The Scottish people are violent."

"I am French!" she cried out. "I have nothing in common with the Scottish. I am worse that they are: they are honorable and would try to never breach their word, while I had given an oath to myself that I would never live through another loveless marriage. And look what I had done! I am trapped again." Her voice fluctuated to a halt. "And I trapped you," she said in a quarter of a whisper.

"Damn Scottish blood," Emmanuel growled. He stared at her, his eyes blazing with anger through the slits in the mask.

Annabelle didn't like the Scottish people because her mother Gwendolyn's family had violently opposed her marriage to her father Vincent de Robillard, the French nobleman. They had acted in such a way because the Scottish had always been so proud, so loyal to their historical traditions, and so patriotic, so that a marriage to the French aristocrat had been considered unacceptable for the family of Annabelle's mother. As a result, they had expelled her mother from the house and had never spoken a word again. Annabelle had never known her Scottish relatives.

But Annabelle was fed up with Emmanuel's insults. "I know that your mother was Hungarian, even if you are trying to keep your eyes shut on that fact," the infuriated, impatient, mezzo soprano spoke into the night stillness. And she laughed, hysterically and uncontrollably. Then her laugh faded away.

Now it was Emmanuel's turn to laugh. His slanting eyes narrowed to gleaming slits as he surveyed her. "A husband who is half Hungarian and a wife who is half Scottish are a great couple, my love," he uttered. He stepped to her and embraced her about her shoulders. He kissed her against her will.

Then, with a powerful thrust of her tensed, steely muscles, Annabelle sprang back from her husband, so that Emmanuel was caught off-balance.

"Don't kiss me, Emmanuel!"

"I love you," he said calmly. "I love you even despite everything."

Annabelle clapped her hands. "Forgive me, Emmanuel. I am guilty! I am very guilty," she whispered in despair.

"Annabelle, let's go inside." He made a step to her.

Annabelle stepped backward. "Don't touch me, Emmanuel! If you ever touch me again, I will cease to be the Robillard! Annabelle de Robillard will never allow this to happen!" Annabelle hissed. She stuck forefingers in her ears. She was speaking herself in a rush. "I don't want to hear your love professions. I was a fool and a bitch to get married to you. My father Vincent didn't like me because I was his only child who had survived the epidemic of smallpox in _Normandie_. My parents dreamed to dispose of me and to send me to the convent. I hated my life in _Normandie_. It was utter hell, and I had always been too proud to ask for any help from the other Robillards. And later I hated that _Marquis Paul de Castelmoron_ for what he had done to me, Emmanuel."

Emmanuel frowned. He was astonished. "What do you mean, Annabelle?"

"That old frog Castelmoron raped me on my wedding night when I was an innocent girl. I was only sixteen years old. I was so frightened, so lonely, so unversed, and so innocent. And Paul had been raping me regularly throughout the first several months of our marriage before I joined the Imperial court. And he did that – he pushed me to become more like _femme fatale _whom I am. And I took numerous lovers at the Imperial court just because I had been dreaming to take my revenge on Paul. I wanted the whole Paris to talk about my amorous escapades. I wanted Paul to know about my love affairs and to be infuriated. I joined the court because I had to avoid nights with Paul! It was better and less dangerous to live at the Emperor's palace with other ladies-in-waiting than at Paul's mansion on _Rue Saint-Gilles_ in _Le Marais_. In addition, Paul had been drinking heavily, and he had remained in terrible madness for many days. During those days it had been especially hazardous to go to his old, huge, dark house that resembled the tomb with ghosts. I had always been afraid of Paul! And when he died, I was so happy! I was on the moon!" She paused and took off the golden mask from her face. In the darkness her face was deathly pale, but she was very beautiful. She glared at Emmanuel with challenge. "Do you, Emmanuel, know how Paul died?"

Emmanuel's face expressed out-and-out shock. "No, I don't know. Tell me."

Her head ached and her mind was blank. Annabelle felt bruised in every inch of her body. And yet she was unable to get away and find rest. She wanted to speak herself out. She sighed and went on. "At that evening I came home. I didn't stay at the court. Paul was very drunk, and he entered my room when I was about to leave. He stopped me at the doorway and attacked me. He nearly strangled me. Then he threw me on the bed and landed on me. Apparently, he had drunk a great deal of cognac before I came home. I was struggling against him, but he was so heavy and much stronger than I was. It was so disgusting." She paused and glared down at her golden mask in left hand, her heart hammering harder and harder. "And then I pushed him away so strongly that he had slipped from the bed and had hit his head at the marble bedside table. There was no blood, but he was unconscious. I panicked, and I asked for help one person who had always helped me. I was lucky that that person was in Paris at that time as I would never come to somebody else from the Robillards in such a dreadful case. We called for a doctor, but he said that Paul was unlikely to regain his conscience. And in three days Paul died. And I wasn't grieving for his death. If I had a chance, I would do the same again! He was a half mad beast! He ruined my life!"

Emmanuel shuddered. "Who else knows about the case?"

"One man," she said shortly.

Emmanuel was going to be insistent. He looked alarmed. "Is he your lover?"

Annabelle shrugged helplessly. "I don't have a lover now."

"Who is he?"

"The Duke of Aylesbury," she forced the words to come out.

Emmanuel sighed with relief. He rubbed his temples. "Excellent! Nobody else must know! His Grace the Duke of Aylesbury won't reveal the truth because Aylesbury cares so much for the honor and the reputation of the Robillards. You did the right thing when you found him."

Annabelle inhaled deeply. "The Duke of Aylesbury had helped me so much. And what did I do in return? I had indirectly caused my third cousin Jasper's disgrace as I had pushed him away from me. And he had loved me. Then Jasper had married that hypocritical English widow, Lady Cornelia, and eventually was divorced after she had given birth to a brown-colored child! And now Jasper completely ignores me! I will never forgive myself for what I had done!"

Emmanuel chuckled. "Aylesbury's son would probably be a good husband for you as he is very rich, but he is too young. I know that you prefer to have a more experienced husband."

Annabelle laughed at him. "Believe me that Jasper is very experienced."

Emmanuel grimaced. "I meant a more mature man." A wide grin crossed his face. "Cold Lord Wycombe can be passionate, can't he?"

"It is not your deal!" she retorted.

"You are mine! Only mine!" Emmanuel snarled.

She ignored his comment as her thoughts came back to her first husband. "I killed Paul! I killed him!" she cried out.

"Shhh, Annabelle! Keep silent," he asked softly. "You didn't kill Castelmoron. He wanted to hurt you, and it was a tragic coincidence."

Something snapped inside Annabelle. She feverishly ran her eyes over Emmanuel and around. She glared at him with what was almost indifference, at the scene of unbelievable devastation which filled the gardens and the darkness and her heart.

"Later I thought that I would be happy with _Count Etienne de Brienne," _Annabelle said in a tremulous voice. "Etienne was so honorable or seemed to be honorable. I had never been unfaithful to Etienne. I just couldn't behave otherwise. But God took him from me together with my precious Lancelot, as I had taken Paul's life. Do you want such a wife, Emmanuel? I am a perfect lady." She grinned with dark irony and laughed bitterly. Then she trailed off and shut her eyes. She raised her hands and dramatically gave a smooth to her face. Then she laughed again and threw her golden mask on the ground. She whirled around herself several times and then stopped rooted. She looked at her husband and cried out into his face: "Do you want such a brilliant wife?" Her thin lips became thinner as she grimaced sarcastically.

"Shhh, Annabelle." Emmanuel stepped forward. "Castelmoron was out of his mind, and you must forget him. Please be quite. Nobody must hear this."

"I don't care! I am tired! I am so tired!" she exploded. "And you deceived me that you had been rich. You needed my money. In reality you are an impoverished harlequin of the Imperial court!" She glared at him and laughed. "You are a harlequin like all the courtiers!"

François saw how Emmanuel and Annabelle had quarreled, but he couldn't have interfered. He wanted to see what would happen next. He was shocked with what he had unintentionally overhead. Now he realized why there had always been so much fatality in Annabelle. He decided that he would disclose his presence only if Emmanuel began to drag his wife from where they were standing. His face was burning, his heart was in tatters and his arms longed to pull Annabelle to his heart, to ease her pain. Yet, all he could do was to stand in the shadow of the tree and to witness her enraged pain. Emmanuel was her legal husband.

As anger overtook him, Emmanuel grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. "I married you because I love you! And I also wanted your money, my love. But you are my wife. You will go with me." He paused and raised his voice. "And don't you dare call me an impoverished harlequin."

Wrenching out of his grip, Annabelle pulled back and slapped him. Emmanuel was immobilized and stared down at her in shock. In the moonlight François distinguished that Annabelle had been smiling with a devilish smile as primitive satisfaction surged through her and, pulling back her hand, she slapped him again and then again. It seemed that she had found an eminent way to release her anger and to ease her heartache.

"Devil take you, Emmanuel, there is no reasoning with you!" Annabelle cursed. "I will never share your bed. I will be your wife only in name, nothing more! Damn you, Emmanuel! Leave before you or I do something we regret, really regret. I will be sleeping at Albine's bedchamber."

"You won't throw me away!" he gritted out. "Annabelle, you won't walk away from me! Is that your answer to my love? I love you!"

"You probably love me, but I don't love you. I will never love you," she said more calmly. "I have never truly loved a man in my life. I am damned not to have love. Goodnight, Monsieur de Morville." She turned on her heels and began running from him.

Annabelle was running though the beeches alley. The further she was going, the more fear was seizing her heart. She began to repent that she had slapped Emmanuel across his face. It was as though she had wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. Wasn't she excessively harsh with her new husband? She was angry that he had deceived her that he had been rich, but he loved her. At least Emmanuel claimed that he had loved her. What should she do now?

She was running and running. She crossed one of the paths in the garden. She didn't know which path it was. There were so many wrong turnings, and she struggled to find her way back where she had left Emmanuel. But those struggles were fruitless struggles against nothing, all culminating at last in that cruel ending which resolved itself into a single image – absolute unhappiness and quintessential loneliness. She had never been truly happy.

Annabelle paused and looked around. She also felt that she hadn't been alone. Indeed, François was following her, but she didn't know about that. He wanted to reach for her before the end of the alley. However, his plans were ruined and he had to wait. Like Annabelle, he heard a drawling, high voice, so liquid of vowels, in the silence. It was _Napoleon III's_ voice. François hid himself behind a beech and strained his ears and his eyesight.

"Please come here, little angel," _Napoleon III_ called Annabelle. As he reached for Annabelle, he leaned forward to take her hand and draw it through his arm. "Let's go and see if the orchestra will play another waltz."

She stared at him in confusion. "Your Imperial Majesty?"

"Yes, Madame Annabelle," the Emperor answered. "Listen, angel, this music is so good, so sentimental, and so romantic." His voice was a caressing half murmur.

They heard the music somewhere far away from them. The orchestra was playing many waltzes.

_Napoleon III _came closer to Annabelle. She felt his breathing on her cheek. Her breasts, firmly held within the heavy bodice of her golden evening gown, brushed tantalizingly against the fabric of the Emperor's jacket. Her hair tickled his cheek and chin.

"Angel," the Emperor whispered against her ear. Then he stared at her with lust. He wasn't wearing a mask. "I don't want to share you with these crowds and with stillness of this magnificent night. Will you come with me?"

Annabelle looked at him with arrogance. "Where do you wish me to go, your Imperial Majesty?"

"To a quiet place where we can be alone," he answered, gazing back.

_Napoleon III_ gazed at Annabelle, unable to speak another word, mesmerized by her beauty. Then he suddenly crushed her to him and kissed her hungrily, like a starving man. Feeling his lips on hers was disgusting. Annabelle tried to step away, but the Emperor only tighter pressed her to his chest. François could do nothing with the Emperor because he was the Emperor. He simply silently cursed over and over again. Instinctively, she commenced to struggle with her attacker, seeing his hungry eyes and feeling his strong desire close to her hips as he pressed her body to himself. _Napoleon III's_ savage embrace awoke her from the dazed state she had been bathing in since she had left Emmanuel. She fought wildly to escape from him. Finally, Annabelle released herself from _Napoleon III's_ grip.

"You don't want to go with me, little angel?" _Napoleon III_ asked. "You are so beautiful. And all these years you have been like an unapproachable star for me. I finally want to taste you."

"Your Imperial Majesty, I am sorry, but I don't want to go with you," Annabelle said, glaring right into his eyes.

"You won't go, will you?" the Emperor questioned again.

She raised her chin. "I won't go," she replied without any hesitation.

"Why are you not coming, my sweet little one?" _Napoleon III_ murmured gently. "Do you want to go back to your husband? Monsieur Emmanuel de Morville is at the Palace."

Annabelle held his gaze for a breathless moment. "I know where Emmanuel is now." She lied as she didn't know and, honestly, didn't care much for that. She felt disgusted when the Emperor had made his advances to her. "I am a married woman now. Perhaps, in the past I committed many mistakes, but now I am intending to embark on a new life."

_Napoleon III_ furrowed his forehead. "I don't think that it is a good idea for such a beautiful lady as you are."

"Please let me disagree with you, your Imperial Majesty,"

"Come with me," the Emperor persuaded, and he led her in silence down an alley.

Annabelle was alarmed whether the Emperor could have heard her conversation with Emmanuel. She couldn't reveal the truth about her first husband _Marquis Paul de Castelmoron_. She was afraid of that truth. "Your Imperial Majesty, did you hear the conversation between Emmanuel and me?" she inquired carefully.

The Emperor looked puzzled. "My sweet Madame Annabelle, what conversation do you mean?" Indeed, _Napoleon III_ didn't know what she had meant.

Annabelle stopped, and so did _Napoleon III_, very close to her. She sighed with relief that he hadn't eavesdropped what she had said to Emmanuel. Her bosom heaving, her anger had momentarily driven away her fear. She wanted clarity and straightforwardness. She didn't want _Napoleon III_. She would never be his mistress, she mused.

"I am very sorry, but I cannot go with you, your Imperial Majesty. I am very tired and my husband is waiting for me. I wish you a pleasant, calm night, your Imperial Majesty."

As she said that, Annabelle made one of her finest theatrical curtsies, turned around, and started running away down an alley. She didn't look back as she needed to get away from _Napoleon III_.

* * *

___Duchess Albine de Persigny and Napoleon III are real historical heroes. Albine had indeed been one of the most scandalous Napoleon III's lovers. The case when the Emperor announced in front of his ministers that he would meet Albine after the session is also a historical reality (the case is taken from Duke Jean de Persigny's memoirs)._

_Napoleon III seems to be similar to the original version, as it is described in many books. At least I tried to make him similar to the real Emperor._

_Isn't this chapter tragic and romantic? I wanted it to be both romantic and tragic. And remember that all the mysteries in the story are connected with each other. It is a maze!_

_Somebody asked about Wade and Ella... They aren't in the story now, and I plan to add them once I am done with this long story. Now I have a mystery line here to weave. Scarlett's little girls will reappear from time to time in the story._

_Soon you will also know what happened with the money Philippe gave Ellen in chapters 63-65. _

_By the way, if you are interested in the Victorian male and female fashion, send me a private message. I can share excellent book with you. However, not everything is given there, but the book is great. As for me, I also used other sources, but I don't have them in electronic form._


	71. Chapter 71

**Chapter 71**

**Aristocracy and _Napoleon III's _court, part 3: Annabelle and François amid Corinthian life**

Scarlett felt as though she had been living those moments with Annabelle. Annabelle told her about that memorable evening, but not in such details. She always avoided talking about that evening because she felt sharp pain in the region of her heart as she remembered François. It was very painful for Annabelle as she had been madly in love with François since 1870 and as later everything – all happiness and all their plans for the future – evaporated. Annabelle had only her son René with François, who was the only precious gift she had been left with after her invisible life, expressed in her inward world and in her mind, had begun to resemble perfect hell and everyday torment without François.

The only thing François didn't mention in his conversation with Scarlett was the fact that Annabelle indirectly caused the death of her first husband, the old rich aristocrat _Marquis Paul de Castelmoron. _François would never betray Annabelle about her act of despair and self-protection. He would reveal the truth under no circumstances. During the past six years, after the defeat of _the Second French Empire_, François desperately hoped that nobody else would ever know about that fact because it could be too dangerous for Annabelle's life. In the time of _the Second French Empire_, François and the Duke of Aylesbury, as well as the other Robillards could somehow have helped Annabelle to avoid prosecution and, possibly, even guillotine. In the new time, in the regime of _the Third Republic of France_, everything was much more complicated because many old connections were no longer powerful and no longer valid. François wasn't sure that his old friendship with his Grace _Marie Esme Patrice Maurice de Mac-Mahon, 1st Duke de Magenta _and as of 1876_ the President of the Third Republic of France,_ could have helped Annabelle if the truth had been revealed.

François was happy that the Duke of Aylesbury had helped Annabelle to conceal the fact how _Marquis Paul de Castelmoron_ had died. He knew that Annabelle had panicked and had run to Aylesbury's house on _Rue des Tournelles _in_ Le Marais _to beg for his help. Only the Duke of Aylesbury and Annabelle knew the truth how the old nobleman had died. François knew that Aylesbury had called for his doctor who had said that Annabelle's first husband would most likely die very soon. As a result, knowing the whole situation after she had told him the truth, Aylesbury had strictly ordered Annabelle to forget about the story and never to tell anybody else what had happened in reality. Aylesbury said that it had been a tragic coincidence, but even that fact had had to be hidden from the society.

Despite being sixty years old in 1861 when he married Annabelle and despite his regular alcoholic intoxication, _Marquis Paul de Castelmoron_ was a very influential nobleman, being one of _Napoleon III's_ most prominent counselors in the matters of social policy throughout the whole reign of the Emperor. In the regime of _Napoleon III_, it was indeed better to act so because if the truth had been revealed, Annabelle would have been left with two options: either to ask _Napoleon III_ for forgiveness and for mercy and, most likely, to become his mistress as a consequence, or to face a public trial and prosecution and to deal with both gruesome notoriety and ferocious scandal. After the defeat of the Empire, the situation changed in a cap-a-pie manner and it became even more important to keep the truth from everybody. The Duke of Aylesbury instructed Annabelle to behave in such a manner in order not to have additional problems in her life, as, despite being an act of self-defense, Annabelle had anyway caused Castelmoron's death. They must have avoided potential problems. Thus, they had been keeping everything in secret since _Marquis Paul de Castelmoron's_ death.

"François, I am shocked," Scarlett said, slowly and musingly.

"I can understand."

Scarlett blushed. "Did _Marquis Paul de Castelmoron_ indeed…" Her voice wobbled to unmitigated quietness.

François smiled deferentially. "Well, I am talking to a dignified descendant of the Robillards from the Old South of the United States." His voice was serious and respectful. "Scarlett, please just ask what you want."

"Did Castelmoron indeed… erm… rape Annabelle?" She paused again. She was embarrassed in front of the man whom she had just met, even if he was Annabelle's only true love and the reason for her journey to Vienna.

His face exerted a wider, yearnful smile. "Did Castelmoron do something else?"

"Or did Castelmoron only… only…" Scarlett blushed even more.

François smiled, his amber eyes sparkled. "Do you mean that Annabelle could have just been an unwilling participant?"

"Yes, François. Did Castelmoron just force himself on Annabelle, without any physical harm?" she questioned as she remembered the night she had spent with Rhett on the day of Ashley's birthday party when he forced himself on her, but it wasn't a real rape as she also wanted him, Scarlett mused.

François only laughed tragically. It was more than a bitter laugh – it was a laugh disrobing more than a tragedy and more than a simple immersion into dark underworld. It was an inhumanly cruel reality. François sighed and went on. "What _Marquis Paul de Castelmoron_ had done to Annabelle was a cruel, rude intimate abuse, stony-hearted and barbarous, with a great physical harm." He paused and sighed. He cleared back a tangle of his thick, blue black hair. "If that beast didn't die, I would kill him by myself. It is a great pity that I had been out of France for several years when those things had happened."

"My Lord," she prattled half consciously.

"Scarlett, if you had ever spent night in the same room with Annabelle, and it, I presume, could have happened after a ball, a rout, or a private party, as you are close friends and both females, then you had probably seen some scars on her right hand and on her right leg. If you don't want to watch the really depressed, agonized Annabelle de Robillard, as though she had been under the Inquisition's tortures, then never ask her about those scars. _Marquis Paul de Castelmoron_ did all those awful things because he had been drinking very heavily and had almost always been out of his mind in his alcoholic madness."

"Mother of God! How terrible! My dear Annabelle! My dear poor Annabelle! My Lord!" Scarlett began to tremble, staring up at François. She lowered her eyes. "My good, good Lord!" She was so depressed after what she had learnt that she was ready to drop to her knees and bury her face in her hands and weep. "How awful! How cruel!"

"Indeed cruel." François drew a deep breath and held it for a long, long time. Then his eyes slid closed. "It is even more distressing to consider that Annabelle was too proud to ask for any help the other Robillards instead of hiding her pain at the Imperial court and coming at Castelmoron's house only on very rare occasions. I think that it was Annabelle's greatest mistake. But she is the Robillard by blood, and her name says everything – she is too proud to ask for any help, unless something really critical happens."

"But wasn't what had happened with Annabelle critical enough?"

"Scarlett, she is too proud to admit such a shame to be revealed to somebody else. And she is too independent starting from her early childhood," François explained.

Scarlett shook her head in disbelief. "Why did her parents want Annabelle to join the convent? I don't understand this, and neither does Annabelle. We had already discussed that numerous times. She was the only surviving child! How could they want her to join the convent?"

"Scarlett, I presume the roots are in her grandfather's story."

"Do you mean Gerard de Robillard, _Count Jean-Baptiste de Bréveaux's_ youngest brother? He died more than forty years ago."

François smiled grimly. "Yes, I mean Gerard de Robillard. Scarlett, Monsieur Gerard's past is very shadowy as he had a great fortune, too great for a simple French nobleman. Annabelle's father Vincent de Robillard inherited only half of it and gave all the money to _the Abbaye aux Dames, Eglise de la Sainte-Trinité_. Imagine that Monsieur Vincent donated so much money to the Church! Annabelle told me that her father Vincent and her mother Gwendolyn had told her many times that that money had been cursed. After their several children had died in the epidemic of smallpox in _Normandie_ and only Annabelle survived, they turned to be superstitious and very religious, forcing Annabelle to join the convent. I cannot understand them, but it is the only idea that comes to my mind as a possible explanation."

Scarlett looked uneasy. "And Annabelle inherited the second half of her grandfather Gerard's money when she turned twenty five years old. That age was the general condition to inherit Gerard's money for his surviving grandchildren. Being the only grandchild, Annabelle inherited everything," she finished the story.

"Absolutely right," François vocalized. He stared attentively at her. "By the way, I have heard that Gerard de Robillard was involved in certain risky operations in the region of the Caribbean Sea together with his first cousin Pierre de Robillard who migrated to the Old South. By chance, isn't Monsieur Pierre de Robillard your close relative?"

Scarlett was astonished, her mouth went dry. "Pierre de Robillard was my grandfather."

François laughed with pure curiosity, lifting his hands to his face to rub his temples. "How interesting," he commented.

Scarlett ventured deep inside. "François, why do you think that Gerard de Robillard's money had a shadowy nature? Annabelle doesn't think so."

François stared at her seriously. "I don't know, Scarlett. It is just my conjecture. I might be mistaken, but I have always thought so."

"Is it certain gumption?" she assumed.

"It is my gumption as well as a rational analysis," he affirmed.

Scarlett winced. "Please tell me what happened next," she requested. Her voice sounded like some amazed murmur.

François smiled light-heartedly. "Annabelle and I had a charming conversation, Scarlett."

François continued talking about that fateful evening. Memories were whirling in his mind. His heart was tearing apart in pain as he had remembered the only woman he had ever loved.

Ignoring the gasp of outrage and a feeling of suffocation, Annabelle was running for several minutes, and soon a beech alley was left behind. Now she was passing parterres of flowers, as well as sculptures and fountains located throughout the French formal garden. She ceased running as she was out of her breath. Her head jerked up and she stared aghast around. She looked into the dark sky and then wept her eyes the area around. She felt that she wasn't alone. Somebody was following her. Annabelle stopped, her eyes wandering over the dim landscape.

François was standing near the tree. His eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, and finally he caught sight of her as she moved into a ghostly beam of the moonlight filtering through the darkness. His heart pounded harder at the sight of Annabelle who was looking around in fear that either _Napoleon III_ or her husband Emmanuel could have followed her in that part of the garden. He closed his amber eyes, almost in despair. He knew that he had loved that woman so much from the first sight.

As she stopped and looked around, Annabelle seemed to be frightened. Indeed, she was frightened. She felt that she wasn't alone. Somebody was around. She felt that by her skin, her bones. Somebody was as though in the air. Somebody was following her from the place where she had left Emmanuel and later escaped from _Napoleon III_. Her heart was hammering aloud, as though ready to jump from her thorax. She didn't believe in ghosts, and it meant that a human being was around. She strained her eyesight, but didn't see anybody else.

As Annabelle turned around and glanced at a large oak behind her, she noticed a shadowy silhouette near the tree. It was definitely a man. He looked very tall. His black domino was drawn closely around him and a black mask covered his face up to his chin. Obviously, he came from the masked ball at the Palace. He was one of the guests, Annabelle mused. But he was neither Emmanuel nor the Emperor. To her relief, they both were left behind. Then he pushed himself away from the tree and stood straight. He was observing her.

"Ghost! Ghost!" Annabelle said sharply. "Get away from there and come here. Stop frightening me."

The man approached her and put off his mask. As the amber eyes met the grey eyes, Annabelle gasped.

"_Marquis de Saint-Hérem_," she whispered. Her own voice sent a pulse of pain through her head.

François cautiously stepped closer to where she was. "Good evening, Madame de Robillard. I prefer de Robillard, if you don't mind."

Polite indifference was gone. Annabelle looked absent-minded and helpless, and François wanted to enfold her in his arms. "Madame de Robillard is better," she murmured under her breath.

"Madame Annabelle, I am not the Emperor or your husband. Don't you trust me?" François coaxed.

Annabelle wondered, with a rising sense of despair, whether François had learnt about her secrets. "Did you hear my conversation with the Emperor and with my husband Emmanuel?"

His answer was immediate. "I have heard both of the conversations."

But the question was whether François was the only person who had overheard Annabelle and Emmanuel's conversation. And they didn't see another shadow among the trees, but it wasn't _Napoleon III_. Neither Annabelle nor François admitted such a thought. And how could they do that? And it would soon become their calamity and downfall of their love.

Annabelle swallowed hard. "It was you who was following me? I felt your presence," she murmured.

Breathing deeply, François caught Annabelle's flower fragrance, and instead of relaxing, he tensed even more. "Yes," he confessed. "I wished to talk to you."

Annabelle laughed. "Monsieur de Saint-Hérem, I know that now you can reveal the truth about my first husband to everybody at the Imperial court. Honestly, I don't care." She paused and sighed heavily. Some more violets dropped from her hair. She raised her voice. "I really don't care." Her words were like an anguished cry. A new pause followed. Indeed, she was so tired, tired from both pain and loneliness. She saw only danger and destruction in her life. She didn't believe in happiness. Annabelle's voice went to a half murmur. "I am just so tired. I don't care even if the police of Paris manage to know about _Marquis Paul de Castelmoron's_ death. Perhaps, if I am beheaded, the world will become better. I am cursed."

François frowned. "You must never talk about your death. Please promise me this."

"Why do you need this, Monsieur de Saint-Hérem?"

François smiled at her with sentimental, subtle grace. "I want you to live." Then a sort of tormenting curve came to his lips. "Madame Annabelle, you must forget about your first husband. You must do this for your own sake."

She shook her head. "Impossible," she retorted.

"I swear I won't hurt you or betray you to anyone else." He was so close to her now.

Annabelle's heart was beating wildly as she cast a feverish glance at François. "I want to believe you," she said in a velvet voice.

"Thank you, Madame Annabelle."

"What do you want from me, sir? Are you offering to become my lover, like those damned courtiers, harlequins and fools?" She dramatically raised her hands and made a theatrical outward lounging, shaking her head in the continuing drama. "It is never too simple about me. You know what I think? I think God anathematized me."

François stepped forward, her hand reaching out to him. "Madame Annabelle, you mustn't think of that."

Annabelle spoke, her eyes fixed at the nearby tree. She didn't look at François. "Like Sisyphus was condemned to spend eternity pushing a big stone up a particularly steep hill, so I am cursed to be unhappy and miserable forever. Every time the stone reached the top of the hill, it would roll down the other side of the hill, so Sisyphus would have to go down and begin again. And I have to do the same: climbing somewhere, searching for something, and each time finally being pushed down again and again, closer to misery of _Napoleon III's_ court, with its sensuous pleasure and luxury, with implications of decadence and self-indulgence." Her voice was like satin and like steel.

He smiled at her tirade. "I have the same opinion about the Imperial court."

Annabelle, elegantly flicking a flack of dust from the left sleeve, perhaps theatrically, was wonder-stricken with by the apprehension in his tone. She laughed. "I am feeling as though I am Sisyphus living in the ancient Sybaris trapped between the gratification senses and the utter misery of my own decadence. Don't you feel so here, at the Imperial court, Monsieur de Saint-Hérem?"

"I can only agree," François said softly.

She glanced at him and saw him smile for the first time since they had met. "But there is no way out from this trap."

François shook his head in disagreement. "There is always a way out, even from the deepest, most dreadful hypogeum."

"And where should I go now?" she asked.

He smiled at her. "Do you have any suggestions?"

"I think I must go only right to Styx." A sarcastic smiled manifested her lips.

Several more violets fell from her hair, and François caught them. "Then go to the Mount Olympus," he offered.

Annabelle's smile faded away. She shook her head fiercely, as though to shake off a cloud of wasps that buzzed about her. "It is no use. Probably, it would be a Pyrrhic way or, perhaps, I will lose."

François smiled lightheartedly as at that moment he saw natural Annabelle de Robillard, allegation of cold, audacious, thick-and-thin Scottish blood and exquisite, thrilling, sublime French blood. "Indeed, your way might be Pyrrhic, but if you are careful, your gains will be more significant than your looses," he assured. "God will show the way."

Agonies of thirst and stabs of pain drilled through Annabelle's temples. "God never listened to me when I begged for his help and mercy on my knees," Annabelle cried out feverously. A spasm of pain skewered her heart. "And then God cursed me for eternal loneliness. So why would God bother now?" There was very dark irony in her voice. It was unmistakable that she was in utter despair. "Rather pathetic, wouldn't you say so, Monsieur de Saint-Hérem?"

He felt desire stir in him and lowered his head to brush her lips with his. He felt her inhale sharply. Then his lips were on hers, gently, without demand, tasting the sweetness of her mouth. They moved on to her cheeks, her forehead, her eyes, her ears. He felt her body go limb in his arms.

"I truly do love you, Annabelle. If you weren't married, I would propose to you even here, right now in the garden," he whispered right into her lips. He looked briefly but deeply into her grey eyes as though in the mirror.

All weariness and fear dropped away as the true meaning behind his declaration began to sink in her mind. "_Marquis de Saint-Hérem_…" Annabelle murmured. She felt as he kissed her temple gently.

"François," he amended.

Annabelle turned her head until their lips met. "François," she echoed.

"Each time our eyes meet, I feel I have known you for the whole life. I want to see you every day, every hour, every minute. I know you feel the same. I can read that in your eyes," he murmured in her hair.

Annabelle only smiled dazedly up at him as he was a head taller than she was. "I have always been remembering you every day since we met at _Jardin du Luxembourg_."

A deep trembling spread through his body. "I also couldn't push that meeting out of my mind," he said.

There was something a little more subtle in that man. Very tenderly, he brushed away the signs of worry. As she realized that, she felt warmed to her heart. "The same was with me," she confessed humbly, self-consciously.

"If you want, I will leave now," he said unsteadily.

Annabelle nodded, her head resting again on his broad chest. "No."

François pulled away. "No?"

She opened her eyes and stared at him. "Don't leave."

Unable to remain passive, François bent his head and kissed Annabelle. It was heavenly for him. He guessed that her entire body had been tingling and aching with strange calmness as she had met him in the darkness among so many tragedies and so much misery. Born in that darkness, saturated in desperation, that peace gained strength from all that misery just because he was so close to her. And it was indeed truth: Annabelle felt a strong desire, only one desire – to cling to this man. François kissed Annabelle and she kissed him back, while his hands began an exploration of their own as they slid down her gold ball gown. He felt how tense was her body and wanted to take her away from all heartache she had been bathing in before.

François felt that her skin was smooth and soft beneath his questing fingertips, and she was reacting tenderer and tenderer to his touches in the feel of the powerful feelings that lay just under the warm flesh. François felt that the passion was running deep and strong between them, there was an odd air of feverish urgency about that kiss. As his mouth left hers, he glared down at her. Seeing a vague smile on her lips, even possibly a pleasant expression on her face, François smiled, feeling his heart rising from ashes, where it had been during Annabelle's conversation with Emmanuel and then _Napoleon III,_ to large, shining stars, where his heart arrived in peace and alleviation and even placidity as she said that she didn't want him to leave.

His gaze was almost mistful, focused on her lips and her grey eyes. "I don't want to leave," he swore.

"Don't leave," she repeated.

François hugged Annabelle's back and kissed her in a most fatherly way, protective and benevolent. "I will never leave if you don't want me to leave," he vowed. "Too late to leave," he murmured.

Annabelle fell into sweet slumber, helpless, suffocating, and peaceful, as she let him carry her back to her own abandoned dreams. "Too late," she said half unwittingly, half dreamingly. "I do love you. I had never felt the same before," she avouched.

"I do love you too and I had never loved before." François spoke against her cheek, his lips tracing the words over her skin. "Beautiful and courageous Annabelle de Robillard, I love you."

François finished his story about the night when he found Annabelle in the garden. Scarlett sighed as she realized how truly romantic, yet tragic Annabelle and François's love story was. Scarlett took in François's narration and felt a myriad of sensations sweep her body. It appeared that her friend Annabelle didn't reveal to her the bitterest moments of her biography. Annabelle either wished to protect her Southern virtues or didn't want to bother Scarlett with her problems. Scarlett's heart hammered until she was afraid that she would not be able to breathe as she tried to imagine what it had been like to be raped by her own husband on the wedding night. It was awful! Scarlett had never wanted to have intimacy with both Charles Hamilton and Frank Kennedy, but cruel, natural rape was anyway different. Now Scarlett realized why at times Annabelle had awoken in cold sweat and with loud cries in the night and Scarlett had had to appease her. Dear God, how Scarlett loved Annabelle, her only bona fide friend who not only stood at her side, but who understood her so well. Annabelle wasn't an ideal person, but she had always been caring for Scarlett, she had always felt protective of her, and she had always understood and accepter her with all her benefits and her limitations.

"What wretched bastards Annabelle's spouses Paul and Emmanuel were! One beast raped the innocent, sixteen-year-old girl! Another coward deserted her and fled Paris to _Provence_ in order to avoid an arrest when Annabelle was imprisoned in the times of the bloody _Paris Commune_!" Scarlett exclaimed with a sense of hot fury fulgurating her body.

"Indeed, bastards and scoundrels, and they are only two examples of dark, wicked aristocrats, Scarlett." François's gaze shifted from Scarlett to the picture on the wall. "You see, Scarlett, I cannot accuse Annabelle of her flamboyant life with numerous love affairs in her early youth because of her very sad past and because of my own life as a pleasure-seeker at _Napoleon III's_ court." Then he stared at her. "Please disregard what I had said at the beginning of our conversation."

"I will do this, François." Scarlett grinned in appreciation of his words. "By all means, let us explore what happened next."

François smiled. "Well, we began to meet, but at first more like friends. We were talking about life, about the court – about many things. Soon we became closer. It continued for approximately nine months, and in July 1870 we wanted to flee Paris and France to Italy."

Scarlett cast a scrupulous gaze at him. "François, please answer one more question."

"Go on."

"Do you love Annabelle?"

François rose to his feet and stood rooted. He swung around. Then he turned partially toward Scarlett without looking at her. Again he said nothing. Taking a deep breath, with a strained smile, he finally turned to her and stated: "I loved neither my first wife Victoire nor my second wife Nathalie. My only true love has always been Annabelle de Robillard, _femme fatale_ or _grey-eyed Despoina_, whatever_. _You see it is a rhetoric question whether I love her." And then he laughed.

Scarlett laughed back. "I love Annabelle and want her to be happy. A genuine friend, amiable, clever and devoted, is a possession more valuable than mansions, clothes, jewelry, and money in general. I have grown to realize that."

François smiled genuinely, and his face brightened. "I am glad that Annabelle has such a friend as you are."

"I am happy to have such a friend as she is," Scarlett confessed.

It was indeed so. Annabelle has been her only bona fide friend. She didn't know any other person who could cross the Atlantic Ocean, being still on the way to recovery after the poisoning by the dreadful Medici's cooper sulphate, just in order to help her friend in private life. Scarlett had appreciated what Annabelle had done for her sake. And now Scarlett knew that she had done a right thing then she had come to Vienna to find François. She hoped that Annabelle and François would find their happiness. However, she didn't know many things.

"Your plan was to send the divorce papers to Emmanuel from Rome?" she asked.

"But you know this," he grinned. "It seems we have nothing more to explore."

"But I would love to listen the story from your point of view," Scarlett asked.

He shrugged. "Fine, you want that."

François recalled how cruel Annabelle was during their last meeting in late June 1870. It happened at _Napoleon III's_ residence in Paris - _the Élysée Palace_ on_ Rue du Faubourg-St-Honoré. _As usual in the evening, François was looking for Annabelle. She was again at the Imperial court that night.

François cursed as he was passing through _the_ _Salon d'Argent_ of _the Élysée Palace_. _The Salon d'Argent_ was the private apartments, which were located in the east wing of the Palace and were decorated in lilac and silver colors for _Caroline Murat_, one of the sisters of _Napoleon I_. _The Salon d'Argent_ was a very well known room among the French beau monde, as _Napoleon I _signed his second abdication in that room in late June 1815 after the defeat at Waterloo. François smiled sardonically because at least there interior around him hadn't been in that strange _Napoleon III style_, expressing a mixture of François told Scarlett that _Empress Eugénie_ had such an obsessive desire to be more like _Queen Marie Antoinette_, _King Louis XVI's_ wife, that the majority of the rooms at _the Élysée Palace_ and _Château de Compiègne_, her favorite residences, were decorated in the late Rococo style, which started to fall out of fashion by the end of the 18th century and was largely supplanted by the Neoclassic style. At the same time, _Queen_ _Marie Antoinette_ was sometimes credited for refining the Rococo style in the late 18th century after the Rococo style had been popular in the time of _Madame de Pompadour_, _King Louis XV's_ most brilliant, most influential, and most beloved mistress. What was developed at _Napoleon III's_ court was named _Napoleon III style_, which was the product of the Baroque style, the Rococo style, and the Renaissance style, dissolved by Napoleonic elements.

As François left _the Salon d'Argent_, he passed through several rooms decorated personally by _Empress Eugénie_. Everywhere the interior was in_ Napoleon III style_. _Empress Eugénie_ had not only cherished everything Austrian, but also had an abiding nostalgia for the late 18th century and its values, namely _Queen Marie Antoinette_. François looked around, his gaze taking in the exquisite mother-of-pearl furniture, which was part of Marie Antoinette's exhibition at _the Grand Palais_. He cursed again because he had always hated the imitation - he and Annabelle had always preferred strong individuality. It was true that lavish decoration and unique furnishings had turned _the Élysée Palace_ into the most prestigious Palace of Paris, but François was bored with unnatural, imitated extravagance.

François passed through those rooms and stepped into _the_ _Salon des Aides de Camp_, which was used for official lunches and dinners. He looked around and noticed that _Napoleon III _was standing new _Empress Eugénie_ with several ministers and some other government officials. Suddenly, _Napoleon III's_ gaze fixed on François and he smiled. François bowed very low in response, but at that moment he was trapped as he couldn't leave and find Annabelle: the Emperor was calling him. François sighed and approached the Emperor. As he came closer, he bowed very low to _Empress Eugénie_, who smiled at him. François also greeted the ministers and the government officials, among whom he noticed _Frédéric Philippe Auguste de Harlay, 16th Count de Cesy_, who was _Marquis Mathieu de Bréval_'s cousin; _Marshal Marie Esme Patrice Maurice de Mac-Mahon, 1st Duke de Magenta, _who arrived in Paris on urgent basis from Prussia; and _Jules Augustin Victor de Robillard-Bréveaux de Cahideuc, 8th Marquis du Bois de La Motte, _the younger brother of _Jean-Baptiste Edmond Alexandre de Robillard,_ _13th Count de Bréveaux._

"Gentleman, I am going to leave you now," _Empress Eugénie _said with a smile. Her voice was as soft as the finest silk in France.

"Of course, darling," _Napoleon III_ said. He smiled. "I will join you at the dinner table later."

Even the manner how _Napoleon III_ said those farewell words to his wife looked like an elaborate political statement. _Napoleon III_ and _Empress Eugénie's_ marriage was of the Napoleonic style, with its associations with the glorious aristocratic dynasty and with the misery inside. The Empress smiled at them and, on her tiptoes, headed to her dear friend _Princess Metternich _who was waiting for her, lounging on the sofa with several other ladies. As Eugénie came to them, they began to discuss something, purring and purring and laughing. Soon François and others heard a murmur ending in a low groan. The ladies were apparently captivated by something really interesting.

Annabelle was nowhere to be found. François's heart missed a beat as his only desire was to hug Annabelle and hold her close to his heart. In addition, he had excellent news for her: he had arranged everything to flee Paris and France to Italy, to Rome. They had been discussing that plan for the past three months. He and Annabelle planned to send the divorce papers to _Count Emmanuel de Morville_ from Rome. Annabelle was so excited that they would flee together, so secretly and so romantically, and it was even difficult to realize who favored the plan of escape more – Annabelle or François.

_Napoleon III's_ melodic voice, so liquid of vowels, spoke aloud. "Monsieur de Saint-Hérem, I haven't had an opportunity to see you much time for the past several months," _Napoleon III_ noticed.

François bowed to the Emperor. "Your Imperial Majesty, I am very sorry if I managed to somehow dissatisfy you."

The Emperor smiled. "Your family has always been on good terms with the Kings of France and later with the Emperors. Your behavior cannot dissatisfy us. However, we would love to see you more at _the Élysée Palace _or at _Château de Compiègne _or wherever we are residing."

"Your Imperial Majesty, your wish is a command to me," François said. He lied because he didn't intend to waste his life at the court of pleasures and sybaritism. However, he was so good at lying after he had been a dashing, devoted courtier for so many years.

"Thank you, Monsieur de Saint-Hérem," the Emperor smiled.

"François, I haven't seen you for ages," _Marshal Patrice de Mac-Mahon, 1st Duke de Magenta,_ said.

"Patrice, I am glad to see you today," François replied.

François's father was a close friend of _Duke Patrice de Magenta_, and Patrice deeply sympathized to François. They addressed to each other by the first names, despite the fact that _Duke Patrice de Magenta_ was around twenty five years older than François was.

"I have been travelling for many years. Later I was involved in quite time-consuming business operations in Lyon," François explained.

Frédéric smiled. "Monsieur de Saint-Hérem, I am so happy to see you. How much time has passed since we last met?"

François smiled vaguely and glared at Frédéric. "I don't know, Monsieur de Cesy. I am delighted to see you." In fact, he didn't care how long he hadn't met somebody from the Harlays or the Harlay-Champvallons. Then he looked at old Jules de Robillard, whom he liked wholeheartedly, and said sincerely: "Monsieur du Bois de La Motte, I am also happy to see you." François warmly smiled at Jules.

"I am glad to see you too, Monsieur de Saint-Hérem," Jules said.

"François, I am leaving for _the Franco-Prussian war_ soon. I came to Paris only to have an urgent meeting with his Imperial Majesty. I am leaving tomorrow. I thought that you would probably want to join me in the Command Headquarters of the French Army," _Duke Patrice de Magenta _offered. "I think your deceased father would appreciate that."

Frédéric looked at François. "Monsieur de Saint-Hérem, I am leaving with his Grace _Duke Patrice de Magenta_ the day after will be delighted to have your at our side."

"Don't attack this charming man with your requests," _Napoleon III_ commanded. "Let him have some time to think about your offer."

"Your Imperial Majesty, thank you for these kind words addressed to this young man," Jules said. He bowed very low to the Emperor.

"Monsieur du Bois de La Motte, I am delighted to hear such pleasant words from one of my best ministers," _Napoleon III_ said proudly.

"Your Imperial Majesty, I indeed need time to think," François answered.

They continued talking about _the Franco-Prussian War_ and the military operation Mac-Mahon was planning to take against the Prussians. At that time, in June 1870, all the plans seemed to be so ambitious and so correct and so well-thought. At that time, François didn't know that he would decide to accept Marshal Mac-Machon's offer.

François felt great relief when they finished their conversation. He excused himself and went to continue his search for Annabelle. Then he saw _Duchess Albine de Persigny, Napoleon III's mistress_, who had just came back to _the_ _Salon des Aides de Camp_, which meant that she was with Annabelle at her bedroom in the wing for the ladies-in-waiting. François knew that Annabelle was again at the Imperial court at that night: she had to comfort _Duchess Albine de Persigny_. Indeed, at that evening, Albine had another wave of depression as the Emperor was about to leave her for his new mistress, younger and more beautiful Italian Countess. Albine had just had her new baby with _Napoleon III_, not their first child, but even after the birth of a new child the Emperor didn't change his chilly attitude to Albine and it nearly crushed her down. François noticed that Albine's eyes were a little swollen, which meant that she had been sobbing on Annabelle's shoulder.

François passed through _the Salon des Portraits_, which was built in the reign of _Napoleon III_ and was named after the eight portraits of the heads of State of the time that adorn the upper walls: _Pope Pius IX, the Austrian Emperor Franz Joseph I, King Victor Emmanuel of Italy, Tzar Nicolas I of Russia, Queen Victoria of England, King Frederick William of Prussia, Queen Isabella II of Spain,_ and_ King William I of Wurttemberg_. As that room was located at the corner of the main building and had direct access to the terrace, François left _the Salon des Portraits _and turned to the terrace in order to go the wing where the rooms for the ladies–in-waiting were situated.

Suddenly, François stumbled across Annabelle's husband, _Count Emmanuel de Morville_. At first, both of them didn't realize how that happened. An awkward, tense silence fell between them. Then they eyes met and François saw only coldness and hatred in Emmanuel's eyes.

Emmanuel bowed formally. "Annabelle is waiting for you at her room," he snapped. He pretended to be indifferent, but he couldn't do that.

François also bowed to Emmanuel. "I know, Monsieur de Morville," François said dryly. "I just saw how poor _Duchess Albine de Persigny _was going back to _the_ _Salon des Aides de Camp_. It means that she had left Annabelle's bedchamber."

"Annabelle is my wife!" Emmanuel roared. He was talking in such an unsteady voice, as though he hadn't been sure that she had been his wife. "She is _Countess de Morville_."

"I know, Monsieur de Morville. You don't need to remind."

Emmanuel stared at him. "She will stay with me."

François laughed deep in his throat. "There is always a possibility of divorce."

Emmanuel's lips twitched. "She will stay with me, even if we are not sleeping together because of you!"

François threw back his head and roared with laugh. "I don't think so," he said.

"Monsieur de Saint-Hérem, I assure you that neither you nor I will have Annabelle," Emmanuel admitted grievingly.

François raised his eyebrows. He was astonished to hear such a strange comment. "Why?"

"I just know this!" Emmanuel hissed and walked away. He didn't turn around.

* * *

_We have one more chapter devoted to Annabelle and François._

_Please pay attention to Pierre Robillard in the story. As you had already realized, Pierre is a villain. What he did, you will see in Act IV. Now there are just some twiggy hints, and if you look at the puzzle, you will probably guess what had happened with Philippe and what Pierre had done. The explosion about Philippe's story is scheduled to happen in the end of Act IV. If you remember the chapters in the Church with Silvia, then you can imagine how emotional the revelation will be._

_Honestly, I am taking a particular pleasure that Pierre is shown as a villain. I don't know why I feel this._

_Dear Melody, my Pierre is worse than your Pierre is J))) And I love that your Pierre is also tyrannical and horrid. I had never liked Pierre, and I don't know the reason._

_There is an important twist in the next chapter, and it is connected with the main mystery of the story._

_I didn't plan to devote so many chapters to Annabelle, but my love for dram, tragedy, and details resulted in several chapters devoted to the tragic love story between Annabelle and François._

_I tried to recreate the atmosphere of the court, and that's why there are many details, including even the names of the salons at the Élysée Palace, which was Napoleon III's residence._

_François and Annabelle use some sophisticated terms like a Pyrrhic way, which comes from_ _Pyrrhic Victory and the Romans defeat in 280 BC, or Styx, a river in Greek mythology that formed the boundary between Earth and the underworld. Annabelle and François are shown to be very well-educated people, so I admit that they can use such terms. It also doesn't mean that François used those terms for Scarlett in their talk – I just gave his reminiscing here, assuming that he narrated the story to Scarlett in his own words._

_I assume that if Scarlett understands that François called the life at the court "a sybarite life" or "a Corinthian life," I am always giving the reference that Annabelle or somebody of the Robillards had told Scarlett about that before. Scarlett cannot know such terms by herself, but she is not a fool and she can remember something if she is told about that. Unfortunately, Scarlett would never be as educated as Annabelle is shown to be, and this is one of the few things I didn't like in the original Scarlett._

_Again, we have real historical heroes, including Napoleon III and Esme Patrice Maurice de Mac-Mahon, 1st Duke de Magenta and the President of the Third Republic of France. Mac-Mahon will reappear in Act IV as he will play an important role in the calamity around the Robillards in Act IV-Act V._

_Some Guests wanted to know how the Duke of Aylesbury was involved… Well, the answer is in the first several paragraphs of the chapter. I needed Annabelle to be related to her husband's death because it is important for the twist you will see in the next chapter. Poor, poor Annabelle! Scarlett will also suffer from that mystery._

_If you would be dear and tell me what you think about Annabelle's husband Emmanuel, I would be very thankful to you. I wanted him not to look like a very positive character._

_Thank you very much!_


	72. Chapter 72

**Chapter 72**

**Aristocracy and **_**Napoleon III's **_**court, part 4: Annabelle de Robillard's mystery **

As Emmanuel left, François continued his way to Annabelle's room. He passed through the terrace and went to _the Salon Cleopatra_, the _Marquise de Pompadour's_ former dressing-room, again the room decorated by _Empress Eugénie_ in _Napoleon III style_. François chuckled as he recalled that the name of the room took its roots from the gobelins tapestry that adorned it and represented the _Meeting of Antony and Cleopatra_. He smiled wistfully as he hopped that Annabelle wouldn't become his Cleopatra bringing to him only defeat and misery. But François loved Annabelle with the same strength Mark Antony had loved Cleopatra, and like Antony risked everything, he was going to risk for Annabelle's sake, but only if she truly wanted that. He would never make her do what she didn't want to do.

His heart blossoming, François approached Annabelle's room and knocked at the door.

A melodic mezzo soprano spoke. "If you are _Marquis François de Saint-Hérem_, then please come in."

François smiled merrily. As he entered, he saw Annabelle at her boudoir. She was sitting in front of the mirror and looking at herself, as though mesmerized. She had already undressed, wearing her black silky robe, which had the deep V-shaped neckline and was unbuttoned lower then her breasts. He saw that she had only the black chemise, the black petticoat, and the black stockings under her elegant robe. François guessed that she was just brushing out her dark blonde tresses. She dropped the hairbrush and turned to face him. He noticed that her beautiful grey eyes didn't sparkle as usual when they met. François's gaze licked over her and she saw the naked lust in it.

"François," Annabelle pronounced in one single breath.

"Annabelle, my love," François whispered tenderly.

"Albine has just left," she said humbly, looking in the mirror at herself.

"I know, darling," he murmured.

François smiled at her, his eyes radiating heat. "Annabelle, my love, you are my only love! I couldn't wait any longer and decided to come."

Annabelle smiled ambiguously. "François, it is good that you have come because I must talk to you."

François walked closer to her and hugged her about her shoulders. He bent down his head and buried his face in her long, straight, dark blonde hair he loved so much. He noticed that it smelled lavender water at that evening. "I don't want to talk. I want to be with you, to feel you. I want you, my love."

"François, please we must talk…"

He ignored her pleas. "Annabelle, I love you so much. I want you."

Her heart somewhere in her throat, Annabelle shook her head. "François, we must talk."

That time, he disentangled from her. He glared at her with intensive, watchful gaze. He was clueless what was going on. "Darling, what is going on? I came to you to tell you that we can leave for Rome even tomorrow, if you wish. I transferred a great fortune to my bank account in one of the Italian banks. In addition, I spoke to the lawyer who would lead your divorce with _Count Emmanuel de Morville_."

Annabelle shut her eyes. "There will be no divorce," she said in a hard tone. Her voice was ringing with finality.

A silence followed. It was an ominous, tense, startled silence, a silence that was to define their future, and both of them knew that.

"What did you say?" François finally asked.

Annabelle looked away. "There will be no divorce," she repeated.

François frowned. "Darling, what are you talking about?"

Annabelle turned to him and looked into his amber eyes. "There will be no divorce because I decided to stay with Emmanuel in Paris."

François's amber eyes flashed with anger. "Why do you prefer this harlequin Emmanuel?"

"It is not about whom I prefer, François."

"Then why did you decide so?"

"Because I cannot flee France with you, divorce Emmanuel, and cover all the Robillards with great shame," she explained calmly.

François smiled at her, and at that moment it was a kind smile. "Darling, you don't want to think about your personal happiness, do you? You are afraid that others will judge you for the divorce. But, sweetheart, we love each other, and it is the most important thing. I don't care what others will think."

"It is not only about the disgrace of the Robillards."

"What do you mean?" he asked cautiously.

A pause of several instances followed. Annabelle inhaled and gazed at him. "It is about love."

François's amber eyes extinguished. "What do you mean?"

Annabelle's tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth, her eyes narrowing, utter horror roiling through her at the knowledge of what she was intending to do at that moment. However, she knew that she had to act so. She looked into his eyes and her far away, unfamiliar voice spoke. "There will be no divorce because I don't love you, François."

"Are you sure?" His voice was calm, but his eyes turned cold and aloof.

Annabelle nodded. She made everything possible to sound convincing. "Yes," she half breathed.

The amber eyes were flashing with contempt. "When did you understand that?"

"Well, I just made a mistake when I thought that I had fallen in love with you." She paused and shrugged. "I am sorry, François. At times, we are mistaken. It was just my infatuation with you, not love for you."

"And, of course, you want to say that you are very sorry," he finished.

Annabelle feverously shook her head. "Exactly, François. I am very sorry."

François glared at her, but Annabelle met his stare unflinchingly. "You don't love me?"

Annabelle raised her chin and let out a blood-curdling, tongue-in-cheek laugh. "François, you are like all men for me. There is nothing special about you. I can always find pleasure and enjoyment in the bed of any other man. Fortunately, there are many men in the world."

François laughed bitterly. "Does it mean, darling, that you are a typical whore of _Napoleon III's _court?"

The grey eyes sent him a quelling look. "How dare you talk to me in such a way?" she cried out.

François narrowed his eyes to slits. "I am just stating the fact. You slept with me, you pledged to love me from the bottom of your heart, but everything was a wretched lie."

"Damn you, François! Damn you! Damn you!" Annabelle was breathing heavily. She was standing in front of him, her grey eyes shooting daggers, her long, glossy dark blonde tresses loosen. She was so similar to a cold Greek Goodness at that moment.

François laughed floutingly. "Damn me?"

Annabelle sucked in a frightened breath at the sight of his cold, uncaring amber eyes. "Damn you! I told you that I made a mistake." Her face flushed. She was silently cursing her fate that forced her to do what she was doing.

"But you did a fatal mistake, my dear Annabelle. Indeed, you are a profound _femme fatale_. You twisted and ruined my life, like Cleopatra ruined Antony's life."

Annabelle couldn't tolerate that tormenting conversation any longer. "I don't care. Get out of my bedroom," she snapped. "You will forget me soon."

But François obviously misread her expression. Cursing, he reached into the wide leather belt about his waist and, to her astonishment, unbuttoned it. He went to the door of the room and locked it. Then he put the key to the pocket of his trousers.

Annabelle looked confused. "What… what are you doing?"

"Get into bed," he ordered. As she didn't move, he repeated in a higher voice. "Get into bed."

"Get out! Damn you, _Marquis François de Saint-Hérem_! François, damn you!" she screamed.

"Lower you voice, darling." There was a danger in his voice. "Get into bed."

Annabelle's legs buckled twice as she stepped backward from him, closer to the window. She heard herself saying in an unfamiliar, yet soft voice. "Please get out, François. Please leave me alone."

François didn't listen to her. He removed the black gloves, the black tailcoat, the black waistcoat, the white shirt with a high collar, and, finally, the magenta rose puff tie. He was undressing automatically, totally indifferent to her pleas. He ignored all her words, which fanned his anger and his desire for her.

Annabelle was also angry. She realized he wanted to sleep with her, like with a whore after she had said to him all those cruel words. She wouldn't allow him to take her against his will, she tried to persuade herself. She couldn't do that, although she had always desperately longed for his touches and for his kiss.

François stepped closer and his hard gaze swept the room, seeing the expensive, newly fashionable gowns of a lady-in-waiting, all of them tumbled in disordered splendor. When he advanced toward her, Annabelle no longer stepped forward. Instead, she stood her ground with her chin high, her back straight, and her breasts thrust forward.

"Now I see Annabelle de Robillard, half Scottish and half French," he mocked. "Nothing will ever break you, my dear." He didn't know that she had already been broken.

Frightened and furious at the same time, Annabelle raised her chin higher. "Holy mackerel! Get out! Get out, you harlequin!"

Then he laughed aloud, a teasing glint in his amber eyes. "Harlequins are your lovers at the Imperial court, my dear. There are many clowns and many minions there."

Annabelle also laughed. "You are also a harlequin! I know how many years you had been the courtier. I can imagine how many women you seduced."

François put two strong hands into the neck of her silky robe and tore it viciously to the hem. "I believe you can buy more for yourself? Haven't I made enough presents to you? Don't you have enough money now? In addition, your dear grandfather Gerard left you much money and next year you will receive it."

In her undergarments and with her slender, magnificent body, Annabelle would have tempted a saint, and she knew that. She also saw terrible hurt in François's face. But she couldn't allow him to take her. At least she would try not to surrender. "Please go away, François. Please go away," she blandished.

Suddenly, François couldn't bear the thought that Annabelle had twisted his life and had ruined it. He loved her so much, and she turned out to have played with his feelings. He felt terrible pain stabbing his heart. At that moment for François Annabelle was a lying, deceiving scarlet woman with a luxurious body and a classical, cold beauty of an ancient Goodness, he mused. He wanted to make love to her till she died of it, even if she didn't love him. He needed her body at that moment. He needed to take her. Annabelle had always driven him to the point of obsession and exhaustion, and her mystification had always made him incapable of making rational decisions. And he couldn't think at that moment.

François stepped closer and savagely tore off her black petticoat and her chemise, and her heavy breasts sprang free. Her dark blonde hair fell down her shoulders and her back, and now shy truly looked like a Goodness of sexual pleasure and amorous escapades, yet a Goodness of mysteries, as there was so much fatality in all her appearance. Annabelle possessed a cold, rigorous beauty, a beauty of cold, northern Scotland. That beauty could thrust through the heart of any man and could destroy it into many small pieces with its arctic cold. That beauty could also give a feeling of peace and placidness if those large pieces of ice started melting at first at the surface and then deeper and deeper up to the core point - the heart. It was a fatal beauty. Annabelle was the symbolic incarnation of fate and doom, the immortal Goddess of mysteries Despoina, and one of the Greek Moirais or the Fates, one of these white-robed incarnations of destiny. Annabelle was his Clotho who spun the thread of his life from her distaff onto her spindle. At that moment she was driving him to madness. That cold beauty was the curse of beauty, supreme above all other beauties and submissive to itself. At that moment, Annabelle looked so unearthly fatal, as though she had been from astray, as the ring of fatality and doom retreated into her image, each feature of her lovely face.

Annabelle sighed heavily as she saw the mixture of anger, hurt, and uncontrollable lust in François's face and especially his amber eyes that were dancing with countless golden embers. It was a deadly combination. Annabelle realized that he was going to take her in either case – it was the ultimate male punishment for her rejection. He was going to take what belonged to him.

"Get into bed," François growled. She turned to flee, but he caught hold of her shoulders, tenderly embraced her, and then carried her to bed. It was strange, but he wasn't rude, his hands didn't torment her. On the contrary, he was very tender. With aching tenderness, he pressed her to his chest and cradled her against his heart. Then he took off the covers on the bed and put her body down there. Then his body pressed hers in the bed, and kissed her deeply in her lips.

"François, please… please… go away…" she entreated between the kisses.

Anger slashed through him. He had always longed to hear her call him François. How he had wanted to taste his name upon her lips. But she deceived him.

François kissed her with raising intensity. "Not now, Annabelle. I want you and I see that your body wants me. Let us give each other pleasure," he smirked.

"Damn you François! Damn you! You are a bloody bastard!" she fired back in her helplessness. She was on the verge of surrender. She wanted him.

For one insane moment, Annabelle nearly surrendered to the seductive power of his kiss, but then with a great effort she tore her lips from his. "I despise you! I despise you!" she hissed.

Something flickered in the depths of the amber eyes. François went very still. Then he laughed. "You want me and I want you. Nothing else matters."

"I hate you," Annabelle whispered. If fact, she hated herself because she was doing those terrible things and because she was ruining their personal happiness with her own hands, but she had to do that.

Despite Annabelle's struggles and her exclamations of anger and outrage, François wanted her passionately and badly, even more than he had ever wanted her before. And Annabelle felt that he wasn't rude: he was caring and loving. God, François loved her, and she surrendered to those wrathful, menacing threats of the unknown blackmailer. Was she doing a correct thing? Annabelle was sure that it was precisely what fitted the circumstances. Therefore, she continued to make that spectacle with struggles and groans and curses because she had to push François away, and his tenderness could kindle her mask of an icy Queen, she mused.

"Damn you, Annabelle de Robillard! I will never forget you," he whispered in her lips. "You are unforgettable."

"François…" she murmured in a half whisper.

He glared at her in his ardour. "Your beauty is indeed damned. It is a cursed beauty. Even if I am damned, I would love you."

At that moment, they both were trapped. There was no way back. François's body was aching with desire, and he was losing himself in the depths of her grey eyes, in the intoxicating heat of her bewitching flesh. François kissed her in her lips. Then his lips traveled down her body and soon returned to her lips.

"You are mine, all mine, Annabelle de Robillard!" he pattered.

Willingly, Annabelle stopped her spectacle and gave herself to François, even for the last time in her life. She arched her body up closer to him, and his mouth lingeringly traveled down her neck to her shoulders. Her arms and her body were clinging to him, her lips responding to his hot, passionate, mad kisses, her body eagerly welcoming the hard invasion of his. And then the magic began as Annabelle and François, both highly skilled in the art of seduction and lovemaking, opened the door for themselves into the world of sensual oblivion. It was just a temporal paradise for them, but they were happy. For them it was a magic because nobody of their former lovers had ever given such strong emotions and a feeling of peace and heaven to them. It was love - pure, passionate, tragic love.

François sighed heavily as he recalled what happened next. In the aftermath, François pressed Annabelle to his heart. Very gently he was stroking her dark blonde hair, and she could hear him murmuring against her hair. "God forgive me. God forgive me, but I love her so much. I love her so much."

Annabelle's heart collapsed. Sobs were rising in her low throat. What had Annabelle done? Why must she act so? Why was fate so cruel to her? Was she indeed cursed for eternal loneliness? All the atrocity of the situation was tearing her heart apart. She felt hot tears in her grey eyes. She couldn't stop the tears oozing her eyes and then spilling over her cheeks, like tiny silver rivers of pain.

"God forgive me," Annabelle whispered. "I am anathematized. François, you must go away."

He looked at her. "You don't love me, do you?"

Annabelle glared right into his amber eyes, now so full of goldish amber imps. Her grey eyes coruscated in something mysterious. "I don't love you," she said icily. "I don't love you," she repeated slowly, drawling each word, forcing herself to talk.

Tiny tears emerged in her grey eyes. François felt her pain like a dagger in his heart. He felt that she was suffering, but he didn't know the reason. Then she began sobbing hysterically, and he gently cradled her and allowed her to cry until she was empty. Her eyelids were trembling, her pale cheeks were flushing, and her lips thinned as a grimace crossed her beautiful face.

François tenderly kissed her temples. "I love you, Annabelle," he avowed.

Tears blinded Annabelle's eyes. "Please, don't say this," she expostulated.

"I love you even if you don't love me," François said.

Annabelle shivered in his hands. Then with great feminine dignity, she pulled back from him. "Please don't touch me. Go away. I don't want to ever see you again."

"Are you sure?"

Annabelle raised her voice and cursed. "Damn you, François! Damn you! Go away! I hate you! I despise you!" What a show she was making! She could hardly believe that she was able to do that.

François laughed. "Darling, don't worry. I am leaving and it is my final decision."

She gave a violent poke in his ribs. "Get out of my sight! Go away, you harlequin!"

Without any other word, François climbed out of the bed and began to dress. As he was dressing, they were keeping silent. She avoided looking at him.

As he was dressed, he approached her, bent his head, and kissed her gently on her forehead. The amber eyes met the watery grey eyes.

"Annabelle, I love you even if you don't love me," François said in a half whisper. Then he pulled away and swung around. At the doorway he paused and turned to her. "I am intending to join the French army in _the Franco-Prussian War_. Soon I will depart to Prussia. I have decided to do this. If I am killed, you will be more than happy. Brace your energy and be happy with your clown Emmanuel or harlequin Emmanuel, how you call him, my darling." His voice was venomous.

Annabelle raised her eyes to his, the tears glistening upon her lashes, like diamonds. "Go away. God save you."

François gave a long, long, thoughtful glance to her and opened the door. He left without any other words.

As François left, quietly shutting the door behind him, he didn't know what happened next. A new wave of sobs assaulted Annabelle. Hot tears of fright, guilt, and despair were trickling down her pale cheeks. She knew that she had just pushed away her only true love, and she loved him madly, more than herself. Therefore Annabelle was ready to live in miserable loneliness with Emmanuel who only irritated and enraged her, even if he loved her as he claimed it to be. After the anonymous letter that she had received from that villain, she couldn't flee France with François. She couldn't allow the world to know that she had killed her first husband _Marquis Paul de Castelmoron_, that devil who had been raping her so many times in her early youth and whose death she caused by chance when she tried to defend herself. It didn't matter that she protected herself, as Paul was an influential nobleman and nobody knew what could come out of the situation if the truth was revealed.

"Oh God, François please forgive me! I love you, François, but I had to do what I did," Annabelle whispered into silence. "I cannot risk your life. I just love you so much."

The most dreadful issue was that in the anonymous letter the villain had threatened that her dear, beloved François would be killed if Annabelle had fled Paris and France with him. She didn't know who could do that. Yes, she told Emmanuel about the case with _Marquis Paul de Castelmoron_, but he was very unlikely to do that because he was also shocked by that letter when she showed it to him. Emmanuel was pretty bad at lying, and hence Annabelle inferred that it hadn't been her third husband who had sent that dreadful letter. Annabelle had been keeping that secret since late June 1870 when she had received that letter. She locked the letter into her jewel-box and had never showed it to someone else.

Annabelle leaped to her foot and took the green velvet wrapper from the back of her bed. As she put on her night rob, she approached the bureau, on the left side from her boudoir. She took a large, heavy jewel-box into her hands and unlocked it. Searching through the contents, she sighed heavily – she finally found what she wanted. It was a folded sheet of paper, an anonymous letter that ruined her life in June 1870. She unfolded it and began to read.

_My dear Madame Annabelle,_

_I am writing to you because I know some interesting facts about you, my dear unforgettable Madame Annabelle de Robillard. I don't think that the society and the police will like them._

_I know that you, Madame Annabelle, murdered your first husband Paul Josselin Lionel de Belsunce, 8th Marquis de Castelmoron, as he attacked you in his drunken state and tried to rape you. Marquis Paul de Castelmoron was the old, respected nobleman, who was one of Napoleon III's most prominent counselors in the matters of social policy. You killed your respectable husband in order to avoid being abducted again. As far as I know, your husband also raped you on the wedding night and had constantly been raping you throughout the first several months of your marriage to him, before you joined the Imperial Court. _

_I would be happy to tell the police about the case. Immediately after that, you will be imprisoned in the Conciergerie or in the Temple and then you will be guillotined. Probably, after the official legal process, you might be justified because it was an act of self-defense, but it was anyway a murder. _

_You have many things to lose, including your life._

_I have only one requirement for you. You must fulfill it unconditionally and importunately. You must break your relations with François Maximilien Xavier de Montmorin, 9th Marquis de Saint-Hérem and 14th Baron de Villeneuve. If you plan to leave your current husband Emmanuel Alexandre Augustin de Fleuriau, 14th Count de Morville, then you must forget about that idea. You must stay with Count Emmanuel de Morville. If you planned to run away from Paris with your lover Marquis François de Saint-Hérem, forget about that._

_If you don't do what I demand, then I will pass the details about the murder of Marquis Paul de Castelmoron to the police of Paris. _

_Moreover, I will also take care of your lover - Marquis François de Saint-Hérem. I will kill him. I have a lot of the Medici's blue and black cooper sulphate, as well as the Borgia's Cantarella in stock. I will poison your dear François. I think I will use Cantarella because there is no antidote to this magnificent poison. I have all the opportunities to poison Monsieur de Saint-Hérem._

_Don't forget about __Philippe Justin Robillard-Arden, 8th Duke of Aylesbury, __who helped you hide the fact of Marquis Paul de Castelmoron's involuntary murder. I don't think that you want Aylesbury to have any serious problems. _

_There is always an option of using a poison, blue or black cooper sulphate or Cantarella, against his Grace the Duke of Aylesbury and his eldest son Jasper Alastair Robillard-Arden, __the heir apparent to 8th Duke of Aylesbury and_ _10th Marquess of Wycombe. I don't think that you want to become the reason for the death of Aylesbury or Lord Wycombe __who proposed to you, Madame Annabelle, and whom you pushed aside, which eventually resulted in his marriage, his divorce, and his disgrace. I can poison both of them – the father and the son. _

_I am absolutely serious. Don't think that I am joking – I always keep my word._

_Have a nice week at the Imperial Court._

_A well-wisher_

Annabelle folded the sheet of paper and put it back into the jewel-box. What should she have done after such a horrid letter she had received in late June 1870? Naturally, she told nobody about the case and, dreading the outcome, broke her relations with François. She loved François so deeply and so unconditionally that her own unhappiness meant nothing for her if she could guarantee his security and well-being.

As Annabelle was intending to settle on the settee, she suddenly felt nausea and dizziness pouncing at her. She put her hands on her temples and massaged them, but it didn't help. She maladroitly sank onto the settee near the bed and closed her eyes. In several minutes, she felt much better, and nausea receded. And then a thought suddenly struck her – she had been feeling so unwell each morning and at times in the evening throughout the past month. It could mean only one thing – she was with child, François's child. Annabelle smiled to herself through tears. She was again crying, but at that moment it was a mixture of dark, distressful tears and light, happy tears. Annabelle didn't know when exactly she got pregnant by François, but now it was clear for her that she had conceived around two months ago. She had stopped using her special herb to prevent pregnancy on the sixth month of her relations with François, so that she conceived quite quickly. Annabelle wanted to have a child with François, and she didn't tell him that she hadn't been using a pregnancy preventive herb. Now she was able to appease herself with the fact that she would have at least something from her relationship with the only man she had ever loved genuinely. She would have his child. Annabelle was crying the whole evening and the whole night after she had realized that she had been carrying François's baby.

Annabelle also received the second anonymous letter, apparently from the same villain. It happened in the end of 1870 when she was locked in _Abbaye de Saint-Denis_, expecting the birth of her child. Her third husband Emmanuel was alive at that moment – he committed a suicide only in August 1871. In that letter the villain threatened to poison her child if she officially claimed her son.

_My dear Madame Annabelle,_

_I know that you are pregnant by your lover François Maximilien Xavier de Montmorin, 9th Marquis de Saint-Hérem and 14th Baron de Villeneuve._

_You fulfilled my requirement and broke the relations with that man. Now I am demanding another thing. You must never claim officially the child you are carrying now. If it is done, I will have to go to the police of Paris and reveal the truth about the death of your first husband Paul Josselin Lionel de Belsunce, 8th Marquis de Castelmoron. _

_I can also poison your child by black or black cooper sulphate or by Cantarella._

_Your current husband Count Emmanuel de Morville must know nothing about the child._

_It is in your interest to fulfill my demand._

_A well-wisher_

After _Count Emmanuel de Morville _had committed a_ s_uicide in August 1871 on the back of his huge outstanding debt and Annabelle's indifference to him, Annabelle also received another letter, which sounded very strange for her. She didn't understand who could be behind all that intrigue. Why did the villain demand that she could never get married again?

_My dear Madame Annabelle_

_So far you have been a good, clever lady and have fulfilled all my requests._

_Now I must ask you about another thing – you must never get married again._

_If you do that, your new husband will be poisoned. I am always observing you._

_A well-wisher_

What could Annabelle do after those dreadful letters? She fulfilled all the orders, dreading that innocent people might be killed. The last letter was sent after Emmanuel's suicide, so that _Count Emmanuel de Morville_ couldn't have sent the third letter, she mused. She didn't know who had done that atrocity to her. Over the years, Annabelle failed to identify the villain. She was sure that it hadn't been her deceased late husband Emmanuel. Then who had such a wicked heart? She didn't know who it was. She had no ideas and no clue how to find the evildoer.

François left for _the Franco-Prussian War_ _of 1870-1871_ and was presumably killed there, as some of her friends, former courtiers, told Annabelle. Many people in Paris were saying that François had died as a hero in one of the battles, not knowing that he had only been captivated by the Prussian soldiers. Since François's presumable death and since she had received the second anonymous threatening letter, Annabelle's life has evolved into utter misery and into irremovable, unbearable pain, which had always suffocated her, filled her blood with the most venomous poison, poison that was much worse than black or blue cooper sulphate. That nagging pain didn't give a single chance to her to become happy. Annabelle has continued to love her dear François, and his son René was the only person who filled the sense of her life.

Little René was her small marvel from Heaven. Unfortunately, Annabelle couldn't have her son René always close to her. She was doing that not because she was afraid of the scandal and the public disgrace, but because she had been afraid that her son René could also be poisoned by that unknown villain. Only in 1876, Annabelle finally decided to adopt René officially. Her reasoning was that enough years had passed since she had received that last gorgonian letter. She could no longer tolerate living alone, trusting the care for René to other people and often visiting the child in _Normandie_.

Annabelle often guessed how François would have reacted if he had known what spectacle she had performed and what the truth had been like. Annabelle knew that François would have never left for the war if he had known that she had been pregnant by him. She knew that he would have made her divorce Emmanuel, if he had learnt about her pregnancy. François would have forced her to leave Emmanuel even if she had continued to insist that she hadn't loved him.

Annabelle couldn't admit François's death – the death of her husband _Count Etienne de Brienne_ and her son Lancelot had been more than enough. Moreover, she had never wanted any problems for the Duke of Aylesbury who helped her deal with that dreadful matter when _Marquis Paul de Castelmoron_ died. It was enough what she had done to his eldest son Jasper whom she pushed away after the marriage proposal. Annabelle felt herself responsible for many things, although it was probably nothing more than fate and doom, which caused those things to happen. But wasn't she a fatal woman? Therefore, Annabelle had to push François away. However, Annabelle thought that François had been killed during the battle, and she blamed herself because she had repelled him and he had come to the war.

As François left Annabelle, he didn't look back. He departed to Prussia in several days after Annabelle had rejected him. The person who opposed his decision the most was _Jules Augustin Victor de Robillard-Bréveaux de Cahideuc, 8th Marquis du Bois de La Motte_. In private Jules told François that the war would most likely be won by the Prussian army and advised not to go, but François ignored him. He had to leave Paris. He had to go away from Annabelle and the pain she caused him.

Because he was going to join the army at the beginning of the war, François was sure that he won't be involved in the tick of the war straight away. The first action of _the Franco–Prussian War _took place on 4 August 1870. François joined the French army in the hottest time of the whole war: on 6 August 1870 near _Wörth_ in the town of _Fröschwiller_, near _Wissembourg_, the cruelest battle happened. It was the so-called _Battle of Wörth, _which ended with the complete defeat of the French army. The commander of the French right wing _Marshal Marie Esme Patrice Maurice de Mac-Mahon, 1st Duke de Magenta, _and _Napoleon III_ himself, who accompanied the army after he had left Paris in late July 1870, retreated westward. The further retreat of the French Army was secured by the German right wing in two blundering battles in the middle of August - _the Battles of Mars-la-Tour _and_ the Gravelotte_. Finally, the French army was trapped by the Germans in the disastrous _Battle of Sedan_ on 31 August 1870, when thousands of the French soldiers were killed by the Prussians. Finally, the French army took refuge behind the defenses of _Metz_ until forced to surrender by starvation.

Now François told Scarlett the whole story. A little silence filled in the room. He didn't tell Scarlett about their last night together, but he narrated what she had said to him, those cruel words that stabbed his heart.

François frowned, her amber eyes sparkling with more pigments of goldish grey. "I just don't understand how Annabelle could agree to stay with Emmanuel when she pushed me away. She was so cruel during our last meeting. I was sure she had never loved me after what she had done. She never cared for responsibility, and her explanation about her fear of the complete disgrace of the Robillards doesn't seem credible."

Scarlett didn't agree with him. "As a woman, I can understand Annabelle. I was also very afraid of divorce. What I don't understand is why she lied to you."

"Probably, you are right," he admitted. Then his amber eyes turned very serious. "Scarlett, why did you tell me that Annabelle had lied?"

"And you don't understand, do you?"

"I am confused," François avouched.

"Annabelle lied that she didn't love you."

François's eyes expressed amazement. "Are you sure?"

"I am absolutely sure. I know that Annabelle never stopped loving you. If I didn't know that, I don't know who else would know that."

François sighed. "At all accounts it matters a lot for me."

"Then you must talk to her," Scarlett supposed.

François smiled vaguely. "Yes."

"Anyway, what is done is done." There were lugubrious notes in Scarlett's voice.

"What is done is done," he echoed.

Scarlett looked at the cloak on the wall. It was time to leave, she mused. "François, I need to leave now as my children are waiting for me at the hotel. I will be in Vienna for around two months and then will head to Toulouse," she drawled slightly.

"It is wonderful, Scarlett. Where are you staying?"

"I am staying at _the Hotel Imperial_ in case you need me. However, in two days I plan to relocate to the Duke of Aylesbury's mansion."

"Is it the Aylesbury House on _Herrengasse_? Is it the Gothic mansion with the limestone exterior and five fanciful turrets?"

"I am sorry, but I don't know. I have never been there before."

"_Herrengasse _is a marvelous place. Scarlett, you will absolutely like the neighborhood. It is also called _Lords' Street_ as all the aristocracy of Vienna lives there and loves this place. Living there is very expensive. I also live on this street."

Scarlett smiled. "Thank you for making such a detailed description."

"Thank you, Scarlett."

"You are welcome, François."

"If I may offer, we can have a dinner, if you don't mind." He looked at her interrogatively. "Thank you, Scarlett," he repeated.

"I think having dinner is a good idea. You have nothing to thank me for," she said humbly.

"I will call on you in a week or so," he said.

"It is a brilliant idea." Scarlett looked on the cloak on the wall. "François, don't you need to go now? Much time has passed."

The amber eyes flew to the cloak and the angle of the hands fixed half past three in the evening. "Scarlett, you are right. I have a meeting here in half an hour, and I didn't postpone that meeting."

"In this case I will leave now."

"Scarlett, thank you for coming here," he said with unhidden gratitude and pleasure in his voice.

"You are welcome."

"I must find Annabelle."

"I suppose so, François. Annabelle will be in my chateau in Toulouse in the middle of September. We are going to attend the masquerade there. I invite you there if you want." Scarlett rose to her feet.

"It would be a wonderful idea. I must prepare for my trip in advance as I cannot do a rushed trip," he purred joyfully, his eyes brazing with fire. Scarlett saw no anger in them.

"I understand and you have enough time to prepare for the trip."

He laughed. "Indeed." He rose to his feet and came closer to Scarlett. "Thank you very much again, Scarlett." Gratitude rushed through his voice.

Scarlett stood up. "I hope you will sort it out with Annabelle. You deserve this."

"I hope so, Scarlett. Have a good day."

Scarlett gave her hand to François, and he kissed it. "Goodbye, François. See you soon."

Scarlett left the building of the Embassy in excellent mood, singing under her breath. She was happy that she had helped Annabelle, her only genuine bona fide friend. She was pleased that François had perceived what she had explained to him in so positively. She was convinced that he still loved Annabelle. God, how good it was to have a friend like Annabelle, and Scarlett knew that if she had to travel the whole world to make Annabelle happy, she would do that, especially after Annabelle's self-forgetful, generous help in her relations with Rhett Butler. Now Scarlett knew what a true friendship looked like.

However, what Scarlett didn't know was the fact that Annabelle would have been extremely displeased if she had known that Scarlett had come to François to Vienna. Annabelle couldn't risk the lives of four innocent people – her beloved François, the Duke of Aylesbury, and Aylesbury's son Jasper, as well as her little son René. Had Scarlett known how many troubles for the Robillards would come out from her visit to Vienna in several months, after the Christmas of 1876, she would have thought many times before she had left for Vienna.

* * *

_The story about François and Annabelle is finished. This is the new twist with poisoning. __This story is like a maze because I wanted something unconventional._

_Any ideas who is the villain? Reminder – there are several villains in the story._

_In the next chapters we are having Scarlett and Rhett. Soon Philippe will reappear. The answer what happened with the money Ellen received from Philippe is in chapter 74. _

_Act III ends in Chapter 75. In Chapters 76-77 we are having new important twists. _

_I wanted to let you know that I am going to the self-exile for several weeks or a month starting from today, April 6. My family circumstances pressure me very much, so I am forced to do that. I won't comment on the stories of other users, even by most beloved authors - Helen and Ondine. As I am back in the beginning-middle of May, I will comment on all the new chapters of the old stories and the new stories that will be posted during my break. I am sorry in advance for the delayed comments._

_The story is ready up to chapter 85 now, but I simply won't have time to edit the chapters. Our dear Helen was so great and helpful as she helped me in the previous chapters when I was trapped in time, but I assume she cannot do this all the time. Proofreading of this long story is very time-consuming, even for myself, at times even irritating…_

_Miss Dixie, please if you ever read this chapter, come back from your self-exile! I miss you very much. I know that we all miss you!_

_Helen and Ondine, please never stop writing your wonderful stories!_

_Scarlettrhett4erever, I am so happy that you are back!_

_Reviews are appreciated. Thank you._


	73. Chapter 73

**Chapter 73**

**Scarlett and Rhett: the talk about the children and the history of the Robillards**

Scarlett returned to _the Hotel Imperial_ and found Rhett in the living room of her suite. He was playing with Blanche, while Isabelle was lonely sitting on the sofa and waiting for her mother to return. As soon as Scarlett came in, Isabelle leapt to her feet and ran to Scarlett. Scarlett embraced her daughter and felt as though she had arrived home. How good it was to feel the embrace of her dear daughter and to watch how Rhett was playing with Blanche. Scarlett hoped that Isabelle would get accustomed to Rhett soon and would stop calling him "sir."

Next day, Scarlett, the children, Leontine, and Amelie relocated to the Duke of Aylesbury's mansion – the Aylesbury House - on _Herrengasse_. She was stunned how beautiful the house was. She realized from the very beginning that the exterior of the house was done in the Gothic style, while inside there was a mixture of the styles – the Baroque and the Gothic styles. Life in Europe taught Scarlett many new things, and although she didn't know many details of various exterior and interior styles, she was anyway able to distinguish between the extravagant Baroque and the more classical Gothic style. Oh, dear Annabelle, Scarlett thought, how many new things she helped Scarlett to learn!

As Scarlett moved to the Aylesbury House, Rhett stayed at _the Hotel Imperial_ because Scarlett decided that she couldn't take Rhett to Philippe's house without his prior consent. Rhett wasn't pleased with her relocation, but he could nothing. If Scarlett wanted something, she did that.

The real reason that accelerated Scarlett's move to the Aylesbury House was the incident with the snake. Scarlett didn't want to talk to Rhett about that case in order not to provoke the new dramatic scenes and conflicts. She knew that Rhett would be worried and would propose to go to the police. She didn't want to do that. She was fed up with problems and tragedies. Actually, Scarlett tended to think that that man in the corridor had said the truth and that it had been his own snake, something like a domestic snake. She didn't know the reason, but she decided to tell Aylesbury about that case when he comes to Vienna, which should happen quite soon in accordance with his note.

Scarlett was astonished that Aylesbury had even instructed his servants to prepare the rooms for her, the children, and her two maids in advance. When she arrived, everything was ready and the servants were waiting for her. Aylesbury was an amazing man, Scarlett mused.

At the Aylesbury House Scarlett's things were arranged in an enormous room which was offered to her by the housekeeper Ermelinda. Scarlett's bedchamber was decorated in the Baroque style with the large French bed made from rosewood and ornamented with gilded leaves and statues of several Greek Gods. All the furniture was from rosewood, some pieces, like the boudoir and several chairs, were gilded. The ceiling was in light pink and golden colors, while the walls were painted in white and decorated with many pictures. There were two large mirrors with gilded frames on the opposite walls, which visibly increased the volume of the room. For her daughters Blanche and Isabelle, Scarlett chose a spacious bedroom close to her own room. Scarlett, the children, and her maids occupied a large of the north wing of the house where the windows faced not _Herrengasse_, but the beautiful garden in the French formal style - _jardin à la française. _The small garden was designed similar to the design of _the Gardens of Versailles_, designed for _King Louis XIV_ by the landscape architect _André Le Nôtre_. Therefore, symmetry and grandeur were everywhere in the garden.

Soon _Julian St John Lessard, 13th Earl of Effingham,_ arrived at the Aylesbury House. He was accompanied by two other men, Aaron and James. Scarlett didn't suspect that James was that man in the corridor who took the snake from her: at _Hotel Imperial_ James was disguised. He showed to Scarlett Philippe's note where Philippe asked Scarlett to let Effingham stay in the south wing of the house. Effingham said that he had arrived to attend the diplomatic conference in Vienna and was accompanied by several other diplomats. He also said that Philippe had already been in Vienna for several days, then had left, and would come back to the city in approximately two-three weeks or a little more. Scarlett couldn't protest because it wasn't her house. In addition, she knew that Lord Effingham was Philippe's close friend and his companion. Besides, Effingham was a very decent, honorable gentleman who was known to have no single mistress since he had married his wife Lynnette more than twenty years ago. Scarlett didn't object that Effingham was staying in the rooms on the second floor and in the south wing, so far from her.

What Scarlett didn't know was the fact that the north and the south wings of the mansion were combined with each other by the narrow passage on each of floors. Aylesbury's agents always used these passages to get from one wing to another. Effingham was going to do the same. Moreover, even Scarlett's room was observable for Effingham and his people because he was staying in the next room, not in the room in the south wing as it was said to Scarlett. Two large-framed mirrors on the opposite walls in Scarlett's room were very special mirrors, two-sided and letting watch each of her movements: Effingham and other agents could see and hear Scarlett, while she couldn't do that. Both Aylesbury and Effingham hated what they had to do, but it was the only method how they could protect her from the unrecognized villain.

Scarlett was waiting for Philippe and Jasper to come soon. She wanted to see both of them. At times, she found that she even missed them. Indeed, they were a very pleasant company.

Of course, Scarlett sent a note to her grandfather Pierre's eldest brother_ – Bernard Claude Jacques de Robillard de Bréveaux_, _19th_ _Baron de La Fresnaye. _As she notified him about her arrival, she started waiting for a reply. Finally, she got it and was asked to wait for two weeks before the meeting with Bernard because he had been sick for a long time, thus asking her to let him recover from his flue. Indeed, Bernard was very old and it wasn't strange that he had weak health. Scarlett didn't object because she had enough time in Vienna.

As the time was passing, Scarlett remembered that she planned to visit a doctor in Vienna. She decided to visit a physician recommended by the Duke of Aylesbury. It was the doctor who worked at the Embassy of Great Britain in Austro-Hungary. She visited him approximately in a week after she had met François at the Embassy of France.

Doctor George Harrison, a middle-aged English man, told Scarlett that she would finally regain her good health in around two months. He also prescribed some more pills of antidote in order to facilitate the purification of her body from the toxins of blue cooper sulphate. Scarlett also told him that she had been pregnant when the poisoning had happened. After a short moment of hesitation, she questioned whether she would be able to have more children in the future. Doctor Harrison didn't give her a confident answer and referred to the necessity to rehabilitate her health at first before trying to conceive a new baby. However, Scarlett insisted on a more certain answer to her query, and finally her plea was satisfied. Doctor Harrison commented that if she conceives a baby, if may be difficult for her to carry it up to the term, which can be compounded by other possible complications. However, the doctor stated that she would most likely be able to have children and at least could conceive. He appeased Scarlett that she would have to be much more careful if she got pregnant in the future.

Scarlett left the doctor's office in frustration. She felt how a scarcely endurable pain was uplifting in her heart. She questioned silently why fate was so cruel to her because now when she entirely realized what motherhood was and how wonderful it was to have a precious child with a man whom you love, she could have problems. Scarlett also appreciated keenly how wrong she was in the past when after Bonnie's birth she swore not to have more children in order not to have her figure ruined all over again. What a wild tanglement she created in her life by her own bare hands! Now she was reaping the lessons of her past mistakes. A wave of hot anger at Rhett Butler and his deceased fiancée _Silvia Ferdinanda Albertson Dawson_ overcame her body, and beneath her magnolia-white skin she could feel violence and mean-spiritedness fighting their way to the surface. Venom of both despair and bitterness began to dissolve in her bloodstream, and she felt the stinging hatred for Silvia.

In such a state, Scarlett arrived at the Aylesbury House. She went straight into the small reception room on the first floor in the north wing of the mansion. She stormed into the room and saw how happy Rhett was playing with the children. She forced an artificial smile on her face, which later transformed to a warm smile as Isabelle ran to her embrace. Rhett was playing with Blanche and tried to concentrate on the game, as he saw that Scarlett felt uneasy, but he couldn't ask her about what happened when the children were so close to them.

The rest of the afternoon they spent with the children, and Rhett was astonished how much Scarlett loved them. She was reading numerous stories to them, especially liked by them _Cinderella_ and _English Pirates_. Rhett was happy that Blanche accepted him, although Isabelle still was very careful in touching and talking to Rhett. Besides, Isabelle still referred to Rhett as "sir", not as daddy. Blanche was obviously more open-minded and trustful than Isabelle was. Now, when a week passed, Rhett completely agreed with Scarlett regarding her assessment of the children's character.

As Rhett was playing with Blanche and Isabelle was clinging to Scarlett, he witnessed that Scarlett returned to the Aylesbury House in a pretty bad mood. Rhett felt her tension in her attempts to surpass anger and rampage. He was going to talk to her when the children would be arranged to bed at nine in the evening.

When the children were finally sent to bed, Scarlett and Rhett had a lonely late dinner in the same small reception room where Rhett was usually meeting with the children. Lord Effingham and his companions were as though invisible because they always spent time out of the house and if they were at the house, they were always in the south wing of the mansion. The reality was different from what Scarlett thought, but she didn't know about that.

The dinner with Rhett was spent in the complete, cliff-hanging silence. After the dinner, Scarlett continued to keep silent. Scarlett was sitting on the sofa covered by a fine fabric with silver embroidery. She looked thoughtful, as she was embracing the crystal white cushion. Rhett was sitting in the large Gothic armchair with high back, black silk upholstery with designs from medieval manuscripts, and stretchers fashioned from elaborate turnings which at first became popular in Paris around 1650, shortly after the death of _Louis XIII_. Rhett sighed as it was evident that he would have to break the pause by himself.

"Scarlett, what is going on with you?" Rhett asked anxiously.

Scarlett glared at him. There were embers of dark irony in her eyes. "I see that you love our children. Now you are ready to risk your heart again, aren't you?"

"Scarlett, please stop this," Rhett warned, his eyes snapping in indignation.

She raised her brows. "You want me to stop, don't you?"

"Why should you mention this right now?"

Scarlett ran her eyes across the room, her gaze fixing at the wall with the frescos, a fine examples of the Gothic art. "I am stating this as a matter of fact," she snapped.

"I was a fool to say to you those cruel words. Now I understand my mistake. I do apologize."

"Thank you for your apologies. However, I am still hurting because of those dreadful words," she confessed.

"I am also hurting because you didn't want my children and wanted Ashley's children," he countered.

Scarlett rose to her feet from the sofa. "How dare you tell me this, Rhett Butler! I wanted the child we lost on the stairs in Atlanta! I wanted the child we lost in London on the back of the poisoning!"

An innocent look of confusion crossed his face. "I know you wanted those children."

"What I told you about my unwillingness to have more children is in the past, Rhett." Her voice returned to a calm, steady mezzo soprano. She didn't scream or insult Rhett, and he was pleased with that.

Rhett looked guilty. "I do apologize from the bottom of my heart for what I had said to you in the past."

Scarlett glanced away, again at the wall with the frescoes. "Rhett, never tell me such terrible things again. Otherwise I won't be able to suppress my anger," she warned.

Satisfied, Rhett lowered his voice and nearly whispered: "I admire you for your attempts to swallow your wrath at me, my pet. I think we should stop fighting in general." Then he smiled softly, noticing that she indeed somehow leant to control her temper.

"Thank you, Rhett."

"Scarlett, how was your day in general?" Rhett asked.

"I am fine, Rhett. Don't worry about me," she jeered at him, constraining her anger. "India and Beau will be here in approximately a week. I am looking forward to meet Beau."

"I am glad that they are coming. Robert and my mother won't come because they want to spend more time in London." Rhett rubbed his cheek. "I hope you don't mind inviting them to Toulouse."

"Of course, I don't mind. Tell them to come there by the middle of September, Rhett."

Rhett sighed heavily, looking at her with his intensive watchful gaze. "I sent a telegram to your lawyer in Paris and asked him to message Annabelle that I found you and we are fine. It was so complicated to conceal our whereabouts."

"You have done a right thing. Thank you very much, Rhett."

"Scarlett, I forgot to ask about the results of your meeting with that French diplomat a week ago."

She was again looking at the wall with the frescoes. "I was at the Embassy of France and met one man who is very dear and very important for Annabelle. I don't want her to know what I have done. The meeting went fine, better than I expected."

"I am delighted to hear that the meeting went fine. I hope he this diplomat will find Annabelle."

"How do you know why I met him?" Scarlett tightened her nerves. "You seem to be well-informed, Rhett."

"We had a good heart-to-heart conversation with Annabelle in London. She explained to me why you and she are so much alike and told me about… erm… François if I am not mistaken in his name."

"You aren't mistaken, Rhett. François was stunned when I came, but, as I said, it went fine. He is a pleasant companion. I plan to meet with him in some time here in Vienna."

"I like Annabelle. She is a very nice lady."

Scarlett again embraced the cushion. "Undoubtedly." She pressed the cushion tightly to herself. "I love Annabelle so much. I had never understood the sense of the true friendship before I met Annabelle. I was too late to tell Melanie that I had loved her, and luckily, fate gave me another chance to understand the sense of the true friendship."

"I see that you feel uneasy. What is going on in the pretty little head of yours, my dear?" his moderate-tuned Charlestonian voice resonated in the room.

"I also visited the doctor," she said coldly, her eyes snapping anger. She turned swiftly to elude his gaze.

"What did the doctor tell you?"

"Annabelle helped me and eased my fears when I was pregnant with Blanche and Isabelle. You weren't with me!" She nearly screamed in an accusing tone.

"What happened, my pet? What did the doctor say to you?" His emotionless voice sounded far away.

"When Annabelle and Mathieu appeased me in my fears, you were bedding whores!" She averted her eyes from him and shifted awkwardly on the sofa. "You care for nobody, apart from yourself… You…"

"Scarlett, stop this! Hush up and listen to me," he interrupted her in a commanding voice. "We promised to be honest with each other. Tell me what happened. What did the doctor say to you?"

Scarlett looked up at him. "The doctor said that I might have problems if I get pregnant. And it is now when I understood what it is like to have a child." She was trembling.

"Darling, you can visit another doctor and he can say other things," he appeased her. "What about the side effects of poisoning?" His face hardened as he grasped the reason behind her frustration.

"The doctor said that all the physical traits of poisoning will disappear soon. He said the same as Doctor Casimir Broussard told me in London."

"Scarlett, darling…"

She interrupted him. "Don't touch me, Rhett." She stood up and glanced at him, her eyes flashing warningly.

"My pet, please calm down. I told you before the marriage that it is immature for me whether we have twenty children or one child." Rhett tried to shift the subject of the conversation to avoid causing her new pain that pointedly tormented her. "We have two beautiful girls, and it is enough."

"I wanted that child! How I hate Silvia Dawson! How I hate your dear fiancée!" Scarlett hissed through the clenched teeth. A new wave of anger swept through her. "Damn Silvia! Damn you!"

"Hush up, darling. I know that you wanted that child, and so did I." His voice was sad and sodden with sharp bitterness.

Scarlett settled back onto the sofa. "Rhett, I understand, but it is just so fresh. I think I need more time."

"You are silently accusing me in what happened, aren't you?"

"Rhett, you know me too well. Now I want to hate you, but I cannot! I know that you didn't know that Silvia had been a murderess and that she had poisoned me." She broke off her speech and flipped down her long black eyelashes.

"I must thank you for your understanding, darling."

"I would like to have more children. I know that I said a long time ago that I hadn't wanted them for a stupid reason of preserving my slimness, but I was foolish at that time."

"Scarlett, you have matured a lot. I witness how you are treating our daughters, and I am stunned. You changed a lot in a positive way," he admitted and smiled at her softly. "You won't hate me even if you want it very much, and you know that. We are designated for each other, my pet."

"You are so self-assured and so selfish! I am not your pet! How dare you call me so!" she cried out. "How dare you…"

Rhett interrupted her. "What don't you like now? Pray explain it to me," he scolded gently, hiding his clenched fists into the pockets of his trousers.

"Don't ever call me my pet! You once told me that you married me to keep me as your pet." Scarlett raised her head proudly, and he felt that there was a flicker of frightened urgency in her words. "But I don't need your money or your status! I am not your pet! Please, stop calling me "my pet"! I am not your pet! I hate when you call me so!"

"It is agreed, Scarlett. I will call you _mon ami _or_ chérie._"

"It is better to use _mon ami_. I associate_ chérie _with loose women."

"Agreed." Rhett stared at her. "Scarlett, I think you need to wait and consult with other doctors later."

She sighed with some relief. "I need to visit Doctor Adams in Paris. He was my doctor when I was carrying Blanche and Isabelle. But this doctor is a very good physician. He is the doctor at the Embassy of Great Britain and Philippe recommended me to come to him."

He smiled cockily and out-breathed cigar smoke with pleasure. "Anyway, you need to hear other opinions."

She raised her hand. "I don't want to talk about this now. Enough!"

He shrugged. "Alright."

As the dinner continued, the tension between Scarlett and Rhett didn't ease. Scarlett felt that the topic about having more children had also distressed Rhett. She presumed that he also felt a sharp pain in the area of his heart as he was also grieving for the loss of three unborn children. Scarlett felt that she had to break ominous silence. Now she wanted to change the topic.

Scarlett looked at Rhett. She needed to know what Rhett was going to do till the end of August. Will he spent the whole time with her or will he go back to London?

Scarlett turned to face him. "What are you planning to do in the end of August? As I understand, you are going to Toulouse with us?"

"Yes, I am," he said confidently. "Do you love the South of France?"

"Oh, yes!" she exclaimed. "I am absolutely and madly in love with the South of France. I have a charming medieval chateau in Toulouse, much better than the old mausoleum." She smiled cryptically at him. "Besides, there will be a grand masquerade in Toulouse, and I want to attend. Rhett, you should go, you will undoubtedly like it."

Rhett finished his coffee and put the cup on the table. "I will go to Toulouse," he pledged. "What are you going to do till the end of August?"

"Till the end of August, I plan to stay in Vienna. I also have another deal here as Bernard, the eldest brother of my grandfather Pierre, lives here. Unfortunately, he is sick now. I fear I will meet him only on Armand's wedding. I have never met Bernard and his family in France."

"It seems to me that Robillards are everywhere in Europe."

"Not everywhere, Rhett," Scarlett contradicted. "The Robillards live in France, in England, and here, in Vienna. There is also somebody in Berlin, but I don't know them and even don't remember their names. There is also one man in Spain."

"You have many relatives in Europe."

Scarlett put aside the cushion. "Yes, I do. You will meet many of them in Toulouse. I want to see Noëlle de Robillard so much."

"Who is Noëlle?"

"She is one of the Robillards. She is Annabelle's close friend," Scarlett explained.

Rhett shrugged. "I am confused with all the relationships among the Robillards."

Scarlett laughed. "Well, there are many Robillards in France. To make a long story shorter, there was _Jacques Louis Auguste de Robillard, 11th Count de Bréveaux, _who was born at the beginning of the 18th century. Jacques had three sons - _Alexandre Louis Auguste,_ _Arnaud Louis Claude_, and _Antoine Charles Victor._ Alexander was the eldest son, Antoine – the youngest. They were known as "AAA" in the high society."

Rhett laughed. "It is remarkable that the names of all three sons began with A."

Scarlett smiled. "Alexandre's full name was_ Alexandre Louis Auguste de Robillard, 12th Count de Bréveaux. _Alexandre had several children – his sons Jean-Baptiste, Gaspard, Jules, Luc, and Gerard as well as his daughter Yolande. Many of Alexandre's children are alive so far, except for Yolande and Gerard who died more than forty years ago. Alexandre's other children died in very early childhood. The living children all are rather old now. Jean-Baptiste is now the eldest among the Robillards – he is ninety one years old. Jean-Baptiste is _13th Count de __Bréveaux_. Gaspard is eighty nine years old, Jules – eighty eight. Gerard would be around eighty six now. Luc is the youngest among Alexandre's children, and he has just turned eighty four. Yolande was the eldest among Alexandre's children – she would have turned ninety four in 1876."

"What about Annabelle?"

"Annabelle is my third cousin. She is Gerard's granddaughter," Scarlett explained. "Armand and Geoffroy are also my third cousins - they are Gaspard's grandchildren. Geoffroy and Armand's mother Henriette is _Duchess de Roannais_. Henriette is one of Gaspard's daughters." She paused, inhaled, and then went on. "Cécile de Robillard whom I mentioned a week ago is Jean-Baptiste's granddaughter. Noëlle de Robillard, so-called uncrowned Queen of the South of France, is Luc's granddaughter and also my third cousin."

"And Noëlle de Robillard lives in Toulouse?"

"Yes, she does. You will meet her in Toulouse," Scarlett said. "Noëlle is Annabelle's great friend and Armand's tragic love. I kindly ask you to keep this fact between us."

"But Armand is getting married soon…" Rhett paused.

"Rhett, don't ask me. It is very private and it is a personal tragedy among the Robillards. Two brothers – Noëlle's grandfather Luc and Armand's grandfather Gaspard - hate each other. And it is only because Luc and his son Marc didn't let Noëlle to got married to Armand more than ten years ago. Now, when Armand is _Duke de Roannais_ and not the second son of _Duke de Roannais_, Luc must blame himself."

"It is indeed a tragedy, Scarlett."

"Annabelle and Noëlle were ladies-in-waiting for several years at _Napoleon III's_ court, but later Noëlle left the Imperial court because she hated Paris and longed to see her beloved Toulouse. Noëlle's father Luc has been living in Toulouse for many years, where he moved from _Normandie_. Jean-Baptiste and Jules live in Paris. Gaspard is rarely seen in Paris because he is very sick and prefers to live in _Normandie_ where the Robillards originated many years ago. I have heard that people are guessing when Gaspard will die. In _Normandie_, the Robillards have the family's castle - _Saint-Ouen-le-Pin_ situated in the _Calvados_ department of _Normandie_ in the north of France not far from _Caen_, the department capital. Also, the Robillards have several estates in other parts of _Normandie_."

"Annabelle said that she was born in _Caen_," Rhett said.

"Yes, but she fled _Normandie_."

Rhett smiled wistfully. "I remember." He drew a hand through his thick jet-black hair. "What is the place of your grandfather Pierre Robillard in the genealogy of the Robillards?"

Scarlett laughed merrily. "Remember AAA, Jacques de Robillard's sons. Jacques's son _Arnaud Louis Claude_ also had several children – Bernard, Nicolas, Pierre, Christophe, Constance, Caroline, and Elisabeth. As you know, my grandfather Pierre died three years ago. Bernard is the eldest brother among Arnaud's children. Bernard is ninety years old, only several months younger than Jean-Baptiste is. Bernard couldn't be _Count de __Bréveaux_ because Arnaud was younger than Alexandre. Bernard is only Pierre's eldest brother."

Rhett shook his head. "I understand. It is the bloodline principle."

"Exactly, Rhett," Scarlett confirmed. Her eyes fixed on the pillow on the sofa. "As I said, Bernard is ninety now. Nicolas is two years younger – he is eighty eight. My grandfather Pierre is next in the bloodline as he would be eighty seven now. Christophe would be eighty five now, and he was two year younger than my grandfather Pierre was. Constance would be eighty four now. Elisabeth, who is still alive, is Constance's twin and she is eighty four now. Caroline is the eldest sister and she would be ninety three now. Caroline died in the middle of 1860s." She stopped for a second. "So, Christophe died in 1839. Constance died in 1836. Other children are alive." Scarlett paused to clear her throat.

"Scarlett, who is his Grace the Duke of Aylesbury? How is he related to the Robillards?"

"Philippe is Constance's son. This is Constance whom I mentioned - she was my grandfather Pierre's sister. Philippe is her only son," Scarlett said.

"I see," Rhett drawled.

Scarlett half shut her eyes. "Pierre Robillard's brother Bernard - _Bernard Claude Jacques de Robillard de Bréveaux_, _19th_ _Baron de La Fresnaye -_ left France for Vienna. He lives here and I am going to meet him. Maybe, he will tell me something new about my grandfather Pierre. Pierre's another brother Nicolas lives in Paris, their sister Elisabeth – in _Normandie_ with other Robillards."

"What do you want Bernard to tell you about your grandfather?"

Scarlett shrugged. "At least something. The problem is that many Robillards avoid any topics about Pierre Robillard. At times it seems to me that Jean-Baptiste de Robillard hates my grandfather for whatever reason."

Rhett raised eyebrows. "It is very strange."

"They say that it is because Pierre Robillard refused to keep in touch with his French relatives, even his mother Magdalene."

"It is even stranger, Scarlett." Rhett's black eyes turned meditative. "Scarlett, I also remember that there was the infamous Philippe Robillard of Savannah. I didn't know him very well as I had seen him only a couple of times. He was the talk of Savannah for quite some time."

"Philippe Robillard was my mother's first cousin. He was Christophe's son. As you know, Christophe was Pierre's younger brother." Scarlett paused. "Christophe committed a suicide in 1839, while his wife had died several years earlier. They all are dead. It is a tragedy!"

"Indeed, a tragedy." He paused and then frowned. "Suicide?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Christophe didn't recover from his wife's death and killed himself," Scarlett explained, her pale green eyes sad.

"It is a terrible tragedy! But to commit a suicide! Well, I am shocked. Poor man!"

"I was also shocked as I learnt that. My grandfather spread the rumor that Christophe had died from sickness in order not to blow up a scandal. The police of Savannah also kept silent as my grandfather was a respectful Southern gentleman and they didn't want to harm Pierre's reputation and the honor of the Robillards. I learnt about Christophe's suicide only from Mammy in private talk, several days before her death. Later the French Robillards told me the same."

Rhett shuddered inwardly. "It sounds awful."

"I agree."

Rhett dramatically clapped his hands. "My God, how many titles the Robillards have!"

"Rhett, everything is very simple. The Robillard-Bréveaux noble house held the title of _Count de Bréveaux_. The male members of the Robillard family also hold other courtesy titles - _Viscount de Saint-Ouen_, _Baron du Boismancellet_, _Baron_ _de La Mancellière_, and _Baron de La Fresnaye._ The titles are transferred in accordance with the bloodline principle. So Jean-Baptiste is _13th Count de Breveaux_ and his grandchild Augustin will be _14th Count de Bréveaux_ because Jean-Baptiste's only son Adrien was guillotined in 1871 by the leaders of the bloody _Paris Commune_. Jean-Baptiste's brother Gaspard is _17th Baron du Boismancellet. _Jules rejected his title of _Baron_ _de La Mancellière _when he inherited the title of _8th Marquis du Bois de La Motte _and then changed the surname to _de Robillard-Bréveaux du Bois de La Motte. _Jean-Baptiste's youngest brother Luc is _18th_ _Baron_ _de La Mancellière. _So, as Jean-Baptiste's youngest brother and Annabelle's grandfather Gerard died, Bernard was next in the bloodline, and hence he got the courtesy title of _19th_ _Baron de La Fresnaye_. There were much more barons because their titles - I remember they are called courtesy titles - were transferred more often than the title of the Count. We also have special courtesy title _Viscount de Saint-Ouen _which is always given to the future holder of the title, in our case to _Augustin Louis Alexandre de Robillard-Bréveaux,_ _15th Viscount de Saint-Ouen."_

Rhett stared at her. "Oh, it is so sophisticated to understand all those principles of inheritance in the nobility."

Scarlett sighed. "Rhett, I know all these facts only because I was forced to learn them in order not to feel ashamed in the European high society. Believe me that I spent a lot of time with Annabelle on these things and all the more time when I studied the history of the Robillard noble house. Annabelle narrated the story to me many times as she said that it was mandatory for me to know those details."

"And you learnt it, _mon ami_." Rhett smiled and reached a hand up to rub the back of his neck.

"Once I was asked about my roots on the private party in Paris. It happened when Mathieu and I had just moved there after the wedding. That man also said that the nobility of both Mathieu's family and the Robillards was old. Imagine that I knew nothing about that. That gentleman also mentioned many of my great ancestors. I looked like a fool when I blushed and said that I had lived only in the South of the United States and had never known my relatives in France. And I have never liked to look like a fool. After that moment I decided that I must know the history of the Robillards and also learn some rules of French etiquette," Scarlett confessed.

"Darling, you are too stubborn, too proud, and too bullheaded to admit that you look like a fool, especially among the beau monde. I can pretty much believe that you did your best to learn those rules."

Scarlett smiled. "I am happy that you understand. Rhett, even despite the fact that I was pretty much irritated with Annabelle's constant talking about the traditions among the Robillards and the history, I had to learn all those things because I was intending to become the part of the European high society. And I had no right to put a shadow of unintelligence and shame on the Robillards."

"Well, I think it was boring for you, Scarlett."

"In the very beginning, another shameful case happened with me in the ton of London. By chance or by mistake I addressed to a very noble French gentleman in an improper way. He was _Henri V de Bourbon_, _Duke de Bordeaux and Count de Chambord_, one of Philippe and Mathieu's friends. Imagine, Rhett, I referred to him as _Mr de Bourbon_. He smiled broadly, while his wife shot me a killing glance. I was lucky that Philippe and Mathieu managed to persuade the couple that I had simply been joking as I was born in the United States, a much more democratic country than France and England." Scarlett's cheeks blushed as she said that.

Rhett laughed. "Scarlett, you will never stop amazing me. I think you were simply lost and absent-minded as you were surrounded by all these nobles."

"You are right, Rhett," she replied. "After that case with _Duke Henri de Bordeaux_ and my relocation to Paris, Mathieu and Philippe asked Annabelle to tutor me, and she did her job excellently. At times I was ready to scream! But what could I do? I couldn't continue to address to the Dukes in an improper manner. I would probably never be as knowledgeable as Annabelle and my other cousins are, but I must know at least some useful things."

"I understand. Believe me you did a good job, darling." Rhett smiled. "By the way, I thought that the title can be inherited only by men, except for very rare cases."

"You are right because in the majority of the cases it is so. However, at times a special directive may be issued by the King or the Emperor, and the title can be transferred through female descendants, like it happened with Jean-Baptiste's brother Jules de Robillard, whose wife Nathalie was the only daughter of _7th Marquis Guillaume du Bois de La Motte_. The old Marquis was one of the ministers at _Napoleon III's_ government and managed to get the permission to let his daughter give the title to her husband," Scarlett explained. "So Jules's full name now is _Jules Augustin Victor de Robillard-Bréveaux de Cahideuc, 8th Marquis du Bois de La Motte_. By the way, Jules also was one of _Napoleon III's_ ministers."

"Oh, Scarlett," Rhett breathed. He was smiling. He didn't expect her to know so well the genealogy of the French Robillards. "There were three sons – AAA. What happened with Antoine?"

"Antoine had two sons, and one of his sons had a daughter Marguerite among his children. This is Marguerite whom you met in London," Scarlett explained.

Rhett raised his brow. "It means that dashing Patrick, Madame Marguerite's son, who collects medieval chivalrous weapons in gigantic quantities, is your third cousin?"

"Rhett, Patrick, Lord Marchmont, is indeed my third cousin. Also, his half Scottish blood makes him rather strange because he loves everything from the Middle Ages, that dark bloody time, which is expressed in his house with its exterior and its interior in that strange strict, austere style. However, please refer to Patrick in an accurate manner, in accordance with the etiquette," Scarlett corrected him. "His full name is _Patrick Walter_ _Campbell_, _8th Earl of Marchmont_. For you he is "his lordship" or Lord Marchmont."

A wide grin animated Rhett's face. "Scarlett, France made you more formal."

"No, Rhett. You simply don't know Marchmont well enough to be so informal. Take into account that he is an aristocrat through and through."

Rhett laughed merrily. "Lord Marchmont asked me to refer to him as Patrick or Marchmont, whatever I like more. I have also heard that he is one of the most notorious _les sauvages nobles_."

"Indeed, Patrick is one of the greatest, the most notorious _les sauvages nobles_. Marguerite stopped dreaming of his marriage a long, long time ago." Scarlett shook her head in confirmation. Then an acrimonious smile appeared on her pale face. "Patrick's experience in undressing ladies and in women's undergarments can be compared to that of yours." She paused and laughed. "Probably, Patrick is even more experienced than you are, Monsieur Butler." A wide grin appeared on her face.

Rhett chuckled. "_Mon ami_, thank you very much for making such an acid-tongued comment."

"Always welcome."

"And was the fate of all AAA? I see their maturity coincided with _the French Revolution of 1789. _It was a period of radical social and political upheaval in France when the absolute monarchy collapsed within several years after having ruled the country for more than eight centuries," Rhett said.

"Jean-Baptiste said that at that time French society had underwent an epic transformation, and all feudal, aristocratic and religious privileges had evaporated. The government of _the Third Republic of France_ was clever and didn't touch the nobility: they left the status and the titles for nobles, but abolished all the aristocratic privileges." Scarlett paused. An almost-tender, yet wistful smile curved her mouth as she looked away. "All AAA – Alexandre, Arnaud, and Antoine – were executed by beheading through guillotine. They were lucky to transfer all the money in gold to English banks and sent their families to England, but they didn't escape themselves. Alexandre and Arnaud were in the entourage of _King Louis XVI_ and _Queen Marie Antoinette_, and both of them refused to flee Paris and France. Alexandre and Arnaud remained loyal to the King and the Queen, and as a result they were guillotined at the beginning of 1794, like many other nobles. However, Alexandre and Arnaud persuaded Antoine to escape in order to take care of their many small children who were sent to England with their wives. But Antoine was arrested in _Calais_ when he was intending to board the ship to England. Jean-Baptiste and Gaspard told me a lot of stories about _the French Revolution of 1789_."

"So all the Robillards, who are approximately of your grandfather Pierre's age, had grown up in England?"

"Yes." She gave a firm mental shake to herself as she struggled to remember when they came back to France. Then her face brightened up. "They came back to France at the beginning of the 19th century in _Napoleon I's_ reign."

"What a tragic fate! It was a bloody time," Rhett summed up.

"Indeed, a tragic fate." Scarlett nodded. "The genealogy of the Robillards is very complicated."

Rhett raised his hands as though he had surrendered. "Oh, Scarlett! I was nearly crushed!"

"I was also crushed when I began to learn all those details."

"By the way, I will become _the Marquess of Rockingham_ soon. My lawyers are working on the case now."

A small silence fell between them. A strange expression flitted across Scarlett's beautiful features. "You and the English Marquess?" Then she laughed.

"Why are you laughing?" He asked. He was amazed with her reaction.

Scarlett was laughing till she had tears in her beautiful pale green eyes. As her melodic laugh faded away, she began to spoke. "Nothing happened, Rhett. It is just that I didn't expect that. How did you manage to do that? I have heard that the English Butlers and the Irish Butlers belong to the Ormond noble house."

"You are correct, Scarlett. My relatives were the Irish and the English nobles, and I am descending on the male line from the Ormond noble house. Some of my ancestors migrated to the Old South many years ago. _James Edward William Theobald Butler, 3rd Marquess of Ormond, _is my distant relative," Rhett explained.

"But why did you mention _the Marquess of Rockingham?"_ she requested.

"I am going to inherit their title. My lawyers are working on the case now," explained.

"Congratulations, Rhett," she said dryly. "Now, if you don't mind, I will retire to my bedroom."

"Of course, Scarlett."

Scarlett leaped to her feet. "See you tomorrow, Rhett."

"Goodnight, Scarlett," he said and also rose to his feet.

She paused at the doorway and stared at him. "Goodnight, Rhett." Then she swung around and left.

In ten minutes, Rhett also left the Duke of Aylesbury's mansion. Waiting for tomorrow to come in order to meet with his daughters, he also went to bed immediately after he had got home.

* * *

_This is the last chapter before the self-exile. I just managed to edit it on my way to Milan as I had nothing to do. Posting the chapter right before my arrival._

_I just wanted to make a pause in the story on the moment with Scarlett and Rhett._

_This chapter is transitional in terms of emotional background. Throughout the next chapters I am trying to make Scarlett and Rhett closer. I assume that it can happen only through sincere communication in their case. Even in this chapter there is more understanding between them. Scarlett and Rhett are fundamentally similar to the old versions, but grown up. At least I tried to show them in such a view._

_The history of the Robillards is given here to remind you about some heroes. I presume that Scarlett must know it, as otherwise she would look like a complete fool among the European beau monde._

_There is also a much more complicate history about them in Chapter 13. Here there is only a small part of the picture. It is the imaginary story as in reality the title of Count de Bréveaux turned extinct in the end of the 18th century. I wanted this story to include some aspects of the European aristocracy, so historical things and nobility laws will continue to be shown here._

_Also, the history of the Robillards will be necessary when more Robillards will appear in the story. I cannot show all of them in one chapter, so that they will be met in various cities, appear and disappear. They are important for the intrigues and the mystery, especially Pierre Robillard's dreadful mystery._

_The mentioned Ormond noble house indeed exists. They are very old nobles from Ireland and England. The paradox is that their surname is Butler. The title of the Marquees of Ormond (before the 18th century the Earls of Ormond) exists in reality. I won't describe this family because the Ormonds still exist and I cannot change their history, apart from saying that somebody, in our case a fictional hero Rhett, was their distant relative. But anyway, we are closer to reality in this aspect._

_About the title for Rhett... He is not changing his name. He will be Monsieur Rhett Butler anyway. I introduced this twist that he inherits the English title because it will help Rhett to integrate into European high society, which in this story might be difficult because of the scandals around Rhett, both the scandal with Silvia Dawson and the past of Rhett's ancestors (recall that Rhett's grandfather, if I am not mistaken, was an adventurer. It is from the original GWTW. I remember something like that). Imagine how difficult it will be for Rhett to be accepted after so many scandals._

_The problems with Scarlett and Rhett's acceptance in the society will be described later._

_Some guests said that Pierre Robillard might be the poisoner. He is not the poisoner, but he is a villain. He is indeed dead. Pay attention to Pierre._

_Also, please tell me whether you want to see Scarlett and Rhett married. I tried to make them closer, but it is more difficult task than to write about the poisoning and the intrigue. At least, it is so for me._

_Have a great month._

_Reviews are always appreciated. Thank you very much!_


	74. Chapter 74

**Chapter 74**

**Scarlett and Rhett: peaceful time in Vienna**

Scarlett and Rhett spent the next week in absolutely peaceful, tranquil family atmosphere. They were often talking about their children – Blanche and Isabelle. It seemed that Rhett was ready to spend days and days talking about Blanche and Isabelle's birth, their first steps and the first words spoken by them. He wanted to know everything about his daughters. Scarlett and Rhett were spending much time in the park with the children, and they usually had breakfasts, lunches, and dinners altogether as a true family. Both Rhett and Scarlett were reading stories for the children, played with them, and together arranged them their day nap and their night rest. They typified a real family at that moment, which, however, didn't live together because Scarlett continued living at the Aylesbury House on _Herrengasse_, while Rhett was staying at _the Hotel Imperial_ on _Kaerntner Ring._ Scarlett and Rhett wholeheartedly loved those minutes of peace they spent in Vienna.

The time was passing, but Isabelle was still distrustful and referred to Rhett as "sir". She was always reserved, watching Rhett from underneath her thick, long, black eyelashes. Rhett compared Scarlett and Isabelle and very soon concluded that their characters were absolutely different, except for Isabelle's stubbornness and fierceness. Isabelle was discernibly quieter, much more taciturn and much more contemplative than her mother was. In addition, there was something enigmatic in the little girl – in her incredible stubbornness, in her strength of will, and in her inexhaustible passion for living, but these qualities were not evident at the first glance and were quite hidden deeply inside Isabelle's heart. Isabelle wasn't easy to read her emotions and to guess her internal mind. Rhett looked in Isabelle's enigmatic midnight green eyes and sighed heavily, as he didn't know whether those beautiful eyes were an anathema or a blessing.

Rhett noticed that Blanche's tone and her general appearance were like those of Bonnie in many cases. Every time Rhett's heart pounded harder and harder as he looked at Blanche and compared her with Bonnie. Blanche wasn't as wild as Bonnie was because Scarlett didn't give her daughter complete freedom. The reason was that Scarlett was afraid of spoiling Blanche and, as a result, being unable to control her behavior. However, despite Scarlett's strictness, Blanche still was a very disobedient child, extremely energetic, spirited, stubborn to the end of the world, and, certainly, immensely temperamental. However, all these qualities were easily distinguished on Blanche's face and quite understandable after the first meeting with the child, which wasn't the case with Isabelle.

Rhett quickly realized that the girls longed for each other, even if they were separated for even more than several hours. His daughters were like a half of one whole. Scarlett explained that it was so because they were twins, and Rhett agreed. He would always remember how once in Vienna he took only Blanche to go shopping on _Graben_, and when he came back to the Aylesbury House, Isabelle was crying because she wanted to be with her sister Blanche. It was such a strong tantrum that Scarlett couldn't comfort Isabelle for an hour after Rhett had returned with Blanche. Witnessing such a strong tantrum from the silent, calm Isabelle seemed to be unthinkable. At that day, Isabelle stopped crying when Blanche hugged her and they together started playing with their dolls. After that case, Rhett decided not to separate the girls without any sharp necessity.

Scarlett was curious how Rhett managed to remain so patient to withstand her mood swings and outrage of her temper, which could be quite sharp, although not as powerful and sudden as during their unhappy marriage. As Scarlett no longer wore her mask of polite indifference, at times her temper began to disturb her. Scarlett appreciated Rhett's patience and gentle tolerance of her quite fragile spiritual mindset. Rhett no longer was aloof and no longer treated her with the same polite indifference, like he had done that before the divorce and like she had done that when they met in the United States in the autumn of 1875. How happy she was that Rhett no longer looked, talked and acted like a polite stranger. Only now Scarlett began to grow aware how good it was to be friends and companions with Rhett, like it was during the civil war when Rhett was the only person who understood her caprices and extravagancy and when he was the only person to whom she could complain. Scarlett was eager to talk to Rhett and was looking forward to their daily evening conversations when Rhett told her different stories and anecdotes and when they contemplated their past life.

It was so strangely unusual for Scarlett because for years she had thought that nothing had mattered very much to Rhett and that he had perceived everything in his life, including her, as an ironic joke. Now she clearly saw that she hadn't known Rhett when she had got married to him and that she hadn't even tried to comprehend his behavior, accepting his nonchalance and his indifference as a matter of fact. Scarlett blamed herself for being such a child as she didn't make any attempts to break through Rhett's artificial obstruction from her when they were married. She also saw how much Rhett loved their children, and her heart was beating faster as she realized that Rhett's words about his unwillingness to have more children with her were caused by the grief in the aftermath of Bonnie's death.

Rhett's mind was living through the same thoughts. He was happy that Scarlett was no longer a greedy, selfish creature who cared only for her own interests, didn't paying attention to many others. He witnessed that Scarlett had matured and truly loved and cared for their children Blanche and Isabelle. Rhett recognized that she was a better mother for Blanche and Isabelle than she was for Bonnie. His heart fulgurated with pain as he recalled that Scarlett was much less interested in Bonnie than she was in Blanche and Isabelle. However, he comprehended that his two little daughters deserved to have a good mother.

Rhett was delighted that Scarlett tried to control her temper and was good at repressing her anger and her rampage. Indeed, how pleasant it was to communicate with a wiser woman who could control her roughest emotions and no longer had the greatest rage outburst that drove him to the brink of his sanity and at the same time entertained him. He no longer insulted her and no longer treated her like a child longing for what she couldn't have. Rhett greatly appreciated Scarlett's sincerity in their relations and saw how emotionally fragile and broken she was. He admired Scarlett for her ability to survive, her will of power, and her endurance. Rhett treated Scarlett politely, delicately, and patiently, expressing desire to support and to help her in everything and everywhere. Rhett often felt than a tide of physical desire was overcoming him, but he had quickly composed himself because he realized that they needed more time to become closer and sort out their problems.

Now, when Rhett finally met his two daughters, he perceived Blanche and Isabelle to be a heaven-sent gift for him and as his last chance for happiness with Scarlett. If he hadn't had his daughters with Scarlett and his son Robert, he would have gone mad and would have sunk in the dark ocean of alcoholic oblivion. Rhett saw the light in his life, and he couldn't lose it.

One of the mornings Scarlett and Rhett spent in the Vienna city park near _Maria-Theresien Platz, _and that picnic was one of the most pleasant in their lives. They put blankets on the grass and settled themselves comfortably on the blanket. Blanche and Isabelle were sleeping on their laps. Scarlett was sitting with Isabelle's small body snuggled to her. Rhett was also sitting, his long legs crossed as he was slightly rocking Blanche in order to cradle her. A basket with meal, which included a multitude of Austrian bread rolls, jam, several pieces of ham and cheese, and one bottle of milk for the children, was placed on the blanket, to the right from Rhett. From time to time, Scarlett asked Rhett to pass to her a piece of ham or a piece of cheese from the basket.

"Rhett, I am so glad that we are sharing these wonderful moments together," Scarlett confessed and smiled eagerly at Rhett. "We have never been a true family when we were married."

"Indeed, Scarlett, but times are changing. We are acting like a true family now."

"Or like good friends," Scarlett added.

Rhett sighed. "Or good friends," he repeated as he looked at Blanche who was peacefully sleeping in Rhett's hands. "_Mon ami_, we respect each other and like spending time together."

"Between friends there is always a need for respect and for justice, Rhett." She laughed quietly and looked down at Isabelle on her lap.

Rhett ignored her comment about that they were just friends and had amicable relations. "I see that you favor Isabelle, my dear," "Isabelle doesn't have your temper and is a contemplative child. Is it why you favor her?"

"Rhett, I am not favoring somebody among them. I am treating them equally. I love them both. I am usually paying more attention to Isabelle because you tend to pay more attention to Blanche," Scarlett explained.

Rhett gave a slight nod. "Maybe, it is so."

"I am sorry if I am incorrect."

"Blanche reminds me Bonnie…" His voice became a little hoarsen as he looked at sleeping Blanche, continuing to rock her small body. "She managed to fall asleep in the end. She is such a fidgety child, like our Bonnie."

"Rhett, Bonnie cannot be replaced, but you have Blanche and Isabelle." Scarlett looked attentively at Rhett. "Can you please give me another piece of ham? I am so hungry!"

Rhett laughed good-humoredly and glared at her appealingly. "Take it, the green-eyed, forever-starving lady."

Scarlett joined Rhett in their utterly unflurried laughing outburst, her green eyes shimmering in happiness and in delight. Rhett was drinking lovingly in her appearance with his vivid, alive, shining black eyes.

"Rhett, I don't want you to spoil Blanche or Isabelle like you spoiled Bonnie. I know that you love them, but they must know that they cannot have everything they want and whenever they want," Scarlett warned seriously.

"_Mon ami_, I agree that we shouldn't give them an absolutely free reign in their desires," Rhett agreed, continuing to cradle Blanche. "Scarlett, your eyes are glittering like two precious emerald stones," he made a compliment and smiled with a slow, charming smile. "I have a gift for you, _mon ami_."

Scarlett didn't anticipate that. "A gift for me?" she questioned in confusion.

Rhett accurately placed Blanche on the blanket and took from the internal pocket of his jacket a small jewelry box with the signature _Rue de la Paix _on it. He opened it, and Scarlett saw the grand emerald necklace and the emerald ring, apparently being engagement ring. He leaned across the blanket closer to Scarlett and accurately fastened the necklace on her neck. Gently stroking her ebony hair, he rearranged it under the waved bandeaux she was wearing. He also tipped a little backwards her small bonnet in Belgian straw trimmed with azaleas and some fox fur. As Rhett carefully checked the lock of the necklace, he asked Scarlett to give her right hand to him. As she gently placed Isabelle on the blanket, he removed her six-button lace glove.. Rhett put the emerald ring on her index finger, admiring his choice of jewelry for Scarlett.

Scarlett smiled at him, a shy little parting of the lips, and her eyes glowed with wonder. "Rhett, what is this? This is so great! I love it absolutely!" she exclaimed in excitement.

Scarlett pulled her hand forward to see the beauty of the ring. The ring was also studded with diamonds - the large emerald stone was placed in the middle and was surrounded by one row of diamonds. Scarlett lowered her head and stared at her hands, her heart swelling with disgust as she witnessed some black blue spots in the fingernails area, being the straightforward consequence of the poisoning by blue cooper sulphate. She cast an estimating glance down at her gown, studying her tight outdoor dress of burgundy color, with the high neckline, with the medium-length train in the black-silver-burgundy ornament, and with the collar and the waistbands in the Arabesque style, trimmed with the tiny strip of fox fur and with some Venetian laces.

Rhett was mesmerized by the picture in front of him. Despite her leanness and paleness, Scarlett looked breathtakingly beautiful. She didn't look at her age – she looked much younger. And her beauty was only efflorescing as she was becoming more and more feminine. Her pale green eyes without any hazel pigmentation were hypnotizing Rhett. Now, when Scarlett became as natural as she had always been, there was anyway something enigmatic and even mysterious in her posture, her demeanor, her gaze, and her parlance. Her exotic, unique beauty was an allegation of unusualness, extravagance, singularity, womanhood, magnetism, and enigma. And Rhett wasn't accustomed to that enigma, but he liked it. Scarlett's beauty was neither cold nor warm – it was too individual and too special. Scarlett's hypostatizing, unique beauty could break hearts of many men. Her beauty was no less sad than sweet, but it could twist male hearts and souls in a fatal lethargy, which was the forerunner of either happiness or death, whatever fate would prescribe. However, Rhett saw that there wasn't as much fatality in Scarlett as in Annabelle's cold, classical appearance, although Rhett could call each of them in a French fashion – _femme fatale_.

As Scarlett started speaking, Rhett felt as though her melodic voice was a kind of enchanting music for him. It was a voice of one of the Sirens, a voice and music that could shipwreck his life on the rocky coast of any island, especially those famous small islands referred to as _Sirenum scopuli_, which had been glorified by many Roman poets throughout ages. And the more Scarlett was talking, the more Rhett was sure that there was more than one Siren around – he was too mesmerized and too excited. Her voice was very special and delicate to him. But why did he react so much to her voice and to her eyes? Why was he so magnetized to her? Rhett loved Scarlett, but he knew that even if he hadn't loved her, he would have felt the same aura of magnetism around her in either case. That magnetism was dissolved in the air around her, and it wasn't just about her old charms of a Southern belle. Why was it so? Were these new traits in her appearance the result of all the tragedies she had to survive through? Or were these new features only the result of her maturity and subtle changes in her character? Rhett didn't know yet, but he was observing.

It was an exotic beauty, too unique and too unconventional. There was no other woman like Scarlett in the world. Rhett noticed that in Europe she looked even more enigmatic than she seemed to be as he met her in Atlanta and at Tara in the autumn of 1875. He was charmed by her appearance. He was even so much charmed that he had questioned whether in Europe she became different: she had not only matured, but also learnt many new things, and Rhett saw it. She could be called a young lovely woman with a firm grasp of etiquette, which she had to learn in order to be accepted among the European beau monde. Scarlett became a much more interesting lady than she used to be. She was much more attractive for him now.

Scarlett smiled, a soft, teasing curve of the rosy lips. "I think that this necklace is worn with low-necklace gowns, which will be not for me quite some time. Besides, I cannot wear this ring in public as it is impossible to get rid of the gloves now."

"It will be fine soon. Remember what the doctor said to you."

"I hope so, Rhett."

"The jewelry perfectly matches the color of your eyes," He signed as he felt warmth grasping his body. "Emeralds are undoubtedly your gemstones, darling."

"Thank you, Rhett. I suppose that this ring and this necklace were manufactured by a highly skilled craftsman," Scarlett said as she looked down and her gaze fixed on the emerald necklace. "Look, Rhett! The amount of crack is so negligible! There are no cracks!" She was stunned with such a high quality of the emeralds.

Rhett smiled at her. "You are right, my dear."

"The emerald also has such high transparency!" she exclaimed.

His smile grew wider. "Yes."

"Where did you buy this jewelry set, Rhett? I assume it was an exclusively special order."

"Scarlett, your life in the French aristocratic society apparently improved your taste your your general knowledge in jewelry," he teased her and let out a sincerely joyful laugh, taking Blanche back in his hands. "Yes, it was a unique order. I had made the order for this jewelry set when I was in Paris in May before the tragedy in London happened."

"I had to re-educate myself in both fashion and jewelry," Scarlett said airily.

He cocked an eye. "I can imagine."

"Rhett, but you didn't find me in Paris in May. Why is that so, darling?" Scarlett demanded and immediately amended herself, noticing how she called him. "Why, Rhett?"

"Darling or Rhett?" He emitted a chuckle. "I didn't find you because I was very confused what to do next. When I was in Paris, I had ever-rising desire to find you, but finally the rumors about your love affair with his Grace _Vittorio Amedeo Alberto di Savoia, the Duke of Naples,_ stopped me. When I left Paris for London, I didn't know that I tempted fate again. Later, when I met your lawyer in Paris and talked to him about the legalizing of my parenthood, I collected the jewelry set from the jeweler. Anyway, I couldn't have taken it earlier because it was ready only in the middle of June."

"Rhett, nothing happened between me and _Duke Vittorio Amedeo di Savoia_," she avouched, her eyes glittering in agitation. "By the way, you couldn't have found me in Paris in May as I was in Ireland with the children and with Annabelle."

Rhett sighed. "I have a bad misgiving that the Duke of Naples would somehow disturb us." His voice turned to be deeper and uneven.

"Why do you think so?" A slight degree of uncertainty was distinguishable in her voice.

"Let's say that it is my gumption. Forget about the Duke of Naples because I will protect our family. I promise," Rhett answered. Then he lied down on the blanket, stretching his legs, and tenderly pressed Blanche's body to his large frame, while Scarlett took Isabelle back on her lap.

"I don't know the reason, but I also feel worried," she confessed. "But I am not sure that Vittorio will be the main danger for us."

Rhett rubbed his nose. "It is an interesting feeling."

"I have a kind of bad foreboding," she said. Then she forced a smile. "But let's not talk about sad moments now." She glanced down at her emerald necklace that was still on her neck. "Emerald rings can easily be engagement rings," she supplemented.

Rhett smiled with a great deal of charm, his white teeth luminescent under his moustache. "This is an engagement ring, my dear Scarlett."

"It is good to know that, Rhett." She returned a vague smile. "But so far it means nothing."

"Let it be as it is, Scarlett," Rhett snapped.

At that moment Blanche opened her eyes. "Mother, father, I am awake!" she cried out and raised her head, her blue eyes fixing on Scarlett's necklace.

Scarlett smiled. "I see, darling."

Rhett also smiled. "How did you sleep, Blanche?"

"I slept very well," Blanche responded, her eyes taking in the emerald necklace on her mother's neck. "Mother, you look so beautiful!"

"Thank you, darling," Scarlett said with a smile.

Isabelle also opened her eyes. "Mother, mother," the girl drawled. As she turned her head to Scarlett, her midnight green eyes also focused on the necklace. "It is very beautiful and matches the color of your eyes." The child was very watchful.

A wide grin illuminated Rhett's swarthy face. "Isabelle, you are right. As for your eyes, their color is a little darker than the color of the emeralds and your mother's eyes," he remarked.

"You are right, sir," Isabelle agreed as she raised her chin. Then she snuggled closer to Scarlett on the blanket. Scarlett hugged her daughter, feeling as happiness was overwhelming her.

Rhett forced a smile. He cast a warm glance at Isabelle. "Thank you, young lady," he said softly. Then he embraced Blanche who was clinging to him more and more as time was passing.

Scarlett sighed and leaned forward, closer to Rhett's head. "Rhett, please give more time to Isabelle. It is her distrustful nature, and we can do nothing about it," she whispered into his ear.

"I understand, Scarlett," he murmured.

Several more days passed. Although it was eight in the morning, Scarlett was already dressed. She chose the eccentric tight day gown made from silver gaze and brocade, with the high neckline, the medium-length train, with the ample skirt, and with the sleeves tight to the wrist. The front of the gown was trimmed with puffs of gold gauze and with pink crape, edged with blue jet, and with bouquets of roses scattered here and there. She was also wearing the wrist-length gloves made from silver gaze. Scarlett's hair was just arranged by Leontine. Being a true connoisseur of French hairstyle of various eras, Leontine often helped Scarlett try something new on her mistress's long, glossy raven hair. On that day Scarlett's hair was dressed in the style "_a la Ninon_," carefully parted in front, flowing in loose ringlets, and partly concealed at the back by the silver gauze veil.

Scarlett was sitting in her boudoir made from the rosewood. She was looking at her reflection in the large-framed gilded mirror. Then Scarlett heard Leontine's English speech with pure French accent. The maid was calling for her mistress. Scarlett turned her head and gazed at Leontine who had the envelope and the parcel in her hands. It was another letter from Paris which Scarlett's lawyer Monsieur _Pierre Jean François Blanick_ had re-sent to her to Vienna. It was the letter from Scarlett's sister Suellen O'Hara Benteen. Scarlett nearly gripped the envelope from Leontine's hands as she was happy to finally hear from her sister. Scarlett opened the envelope in a rush and began to read.

_My dear sister,_

_I hope you are recovering after your terrible sickness. I thanked God numerous times that you had survived that poisoning in London._

_All of us - Will, the children, and I - are doing well. My daughter Lucie caught cold, but now she is getting better. My other children are flourishing._

_Scarlett, I wanted to let you know that I would be unable to come to Europe on Christmas because now I am with child. Finally, Will and I want to try to have a son. If this time I have a boy, we will name him Gerald in the honor of our father. I have been dreaming for a long time to have a son who will be able to partly change our dear father at Tara. Now, when you made us a great gift and gave the whole Tara to us, I feel that I must have a boy this time._

_Scarlett, I still cannot believe that you transferred the whole Tara on our name. Thank you very much for your generosity, my dear sister. You must know that Tara also is your home and we will always meet you with open arms. I also want you to know that I am happy that we finally reconciled when you were with us at Tara in the autumn of 1875._

_Now I have to tell you about some strange things that had happened at Tara. Will and the workers were going to refurbish the attic and demolished one wall there. As they did that, they realized that there was a hiding-place inside the wall. There was a lot of old Confederate money there - around ten thousand dollars, both in notes and in gold coins. I must say that Will and I were very amazed. It seems to me that either our father or our mother hid the money there in order not to let the Yankees to take it from us when they made their local headquarter at Tara during the war time. Only the fact that the money was concealed prevented the Yankees from taking the fortune._

_We also found some foreign notes among the hidden money, and Will said that some notes were French and some - English. _

_We also discovered a strange book in French there. It is the book "Le Morte D'Arthur" by Sir Thomas Malory. I don't know this author and I don't know French, so I just copied the name of the book in the letter. I am also sending the book to you._

_I must say that I was shocked with what we had found there. I have never imagined that somebody could have hidden the money there. The hiding-place was inside the wall and it was masked very well from the onlookers, so that nobody managed to identify it for so many years._

_My dear sister, please let us know what to do with the money. Unfortunately, we cannot exchange it now because all the terms for it had already expired._

_Now about positive things! As I cannot come to Europe by myself, I have been thinking about sending Carreen to you. Perhaps, Aunt Pauline and Aunt Eulalie had already written to you that Carreen had temporarily left the convent of Savannah in order to take care of Aunt Eulalie. I hope Aunt Eulalie will stop having persistent heart problems soon. Our Aunts talked to Carreen and asked her not to go back to the convent because our deceased mother had never wanted one of us to confine herself in the convent. Carreen said that after Brent Stuart's death she could no longer stay in the places where they had met because of much pain it caused to her heart. _

_As a result, our Aunts persuaded Carreen to come to Europe to meet with you as soon as Aunt Eulalie feels better. We think that they will probably come together after the New Year, probably in March-April of 1877. They cannot come to you earlier because the physician recommended Aunt Eulalie to spend several more peaceful months in Charleston before the trip. _

_Scarlett, please take good care of yourself and your children. Please be very careful in Europe. I hope that you will never be involved in such dreadful stories again. _

_I also truly hope that you will sort out your relations with Rhett Butler who is rumored to leave the United States for Europe._

_Your sister Suellen_

Startled and speechless, Scarlett dropped the letter to her lap. She was shocked with what she had just learnt. How could so much money have been hidden in the house, at her precious Tara, for such a long, long time? Apparently, either her mother or her father hid the money. But why were there also some French notes and some English notes? How could her father have English and French notes at Tara? Scarlett's brain was working, but she couldn't find an answer. And then she recalled that Mammy had told her several days before her death: Mammy had seen an unknown man who had obviously said farewell words to her mother Ellen and then had climbed into the carriage. Later, Ellen explained to Mammy that that man had been someone of her French relatives. Now Scarlett was sure that that man had given money to her mother as he had visited her. It was her mother, not her father, who concealed the money in the hiding-place in one of the walls of the attic. But who was that man? And why was everything so secretive?

Scarlett's gaze shifted from the letter on her lap to the sealed parcel. She began to tear the packaging apart in order to unfold what was inside the box. As she was doing that, she didn't care that she was throwing the paper on the carpet. As she was done with her task, she saw the book her sister Suellen had mentioned in the letter. She took the small book in her hands, her eyes fixing on the title written in the upper part of the cover - _Le Morte D'Arthur (The Death of Arthur). _In the middle of the cover there was a reference to the author of the book - _Sir Thomas Malory_. Not being very knowledgeable in both English and French literature, Scarlett had never heard about that author before.

Mesmerized and still voiceless, Scarlett opened the book. The inner side of the book cover contained an inscription in a beautiful calligraphic handwriting made in large letters with considerable slope of each letter and with smooth curves. The text was given in French – "_Je t'aime, ma chère Ellen, mon Elaine. Tu es ma joie de vivre. Amour de ma vie. Mon amour pour toi est éternel. __Avec tout mon amour pour vous, PJL_". The English equivalent was _"I love you, my dear Ellen, my Elaine. You are the joy of my life. You are my dear love. I will always love you. With all my love for you, PJL"._

Scarlett gasped in both abashment and wonderment as she looked at the abbreviation of the name – "PJL". She was more than simply shocked as she realized that the book she was holding in her hands could have belonged only to one man – her mother Ellen's first cousin Philippe Robillard. "PJL" could mean only _Philippe Julien Louis_ as Philippe Robillard's full name was_ Philippe Julien Louis _in the Old South and_ Philippe Julien Louis de Robillard de Bréveaux_ in the European variant.

The book was likely to be Philippe Robillard's gift to Ellen. Indeed, it was the Duke of Aylesbury's favorite book, but Scarlett's didn't know about that. Scarlett decided that her mother Ellen had been keeping the book for many long years after Philippe Robillard's death, just as a memory about her beloved deceased cousin. Scarlett again realized how strong her mother's love and passion for her cousin Philippe had been. She didn't like the idea that her mother had never loved her father Gerald, but she simultaneously felt sympathy and pain Ellen had been keeping in her heart and in her soul for so many years. With reluctance, Scarlett was ready to agree that Philippe and Ellen's feelings for each other had been immensely strong and very sincere.

The pale green eyes stopped on the cover of the book. Scarlett examined the cover for the book, trying to date it. The problem was that the book hadn't resembled a very old book as it had been very clear and obviously hadn't been read many times. The pages were clean and tidy. Scarlett tossed her head as though she had wanted to fling off disbelief from herself. No, the book had been kept very accurately and just hadn't been used, she mused. It was the only possible explanation for Scarlett.

Scarlett didn't see that she wasn't alone in the room. Rhett entered her bedroom half a minute ago as he had knocked several times at the door and she hadn't answered. At that moment he was standing hear her. His black eyes examined her profile and stopped on the book in her hands.

Rhett smiled gaily and chuckled. "Scarlett, I have never imagined that you could be interested in the romantic literature of the Arthurian period."

Scarlett's eyes flew to Rhett's face. His words dragged her from her thoughtful, dreamlike state of mind. "I have never read this book. I even don't know this author," she replied harshly.

A wider grin speared on Rhett's swarthy face. "Well, Scarlett, it is a very interesting book. _Le Morte d'Arthur_ _(The Death of Arthur) _is a great piece of art by _Sir Thomas Malory_, which is a combination of romance tales about the legendary _King Arthur_,_ Guinevere_,_ Lancelot_, and _the Knights of the Round Table_," he enlightened.

"I see," she said numbly. "Annabelle's deceased son was named Lancelot. She said that she had taken that name from the Arthurian times."

Rhett raised his eyebrows. "Why do you have this book if you have never read it?"

Scarlett rose to her feet and came closer to the rosewood bed ornamented with gilded leaves and statues of several Greek Gods. She took a sit on the edge of the bed and pressed the book to her chest. Then she stared at Rhett with challenge. "What are you doing in my bedroom? How dare you come here without my permission?" Her voice was edged with discontent.

"Scarlett, I knocked several times, but you didn't answer. Therefore, I decided to come. Blanche and Isabelle are dressed and are waiting for us in the small reception room. I came here because you were too late to come downstairs. Don't forget that we are going to the park now."

Scarlett raised her chin. "I remember, Rhett. However, please never come to my bedroom if you are not permitted. In addition, you are not at your own house. You are at the Aylesbury House."

Rhett's black eyes flashed. He stared at her, so distant, so filled with anger at her harsh tone. He was again jealous of the Duke of Aylesbury to Scarlett. He was irritated that he was staying at the hotel, while Scarlett was living at Aylesbury's luxurious house. "You don't need to remind me that the great Duke of Aylesbury gave an honor to me as he permitted me to visit you and my own children at his great house that is such a fine product of the Gothic and the Baroque styles."

Scarlett laughed at him. "Rhett, please stop making your impolite remarks. If you are jealous of Philippe to me, then just say that you are jealous. Don't argue round and round the subject."

"If now there is one thing in the world that gives me more amusement than anything else, then it is the thought that you perceive the Duke of Aylesbury as the great man as a matter of principle. However, you are doing this because of your inability to be analytical, Scarlett. I mean that the Duke of Aylesbury wants something from you as he is too kind to you." He paused and chuckled. Mockery sparked in his eyes. "Don't worry, _mon ami_, as I keep hanging around to see if Aylesbury's true nature triumphs some day."

Scarlett sprang to her feet from the bed. "Ha!" she thundered, her lips curved in a sarcastic sneer. "Philippe's nature is obviously better as he would have never divorced with a pregnant woman like you did," she cried out.

Rhett ignored her comment. "I said these things because you don't know the Duke of Aylesbury. I also don't know him well, but what I see I consider being rather strange. That cold, reserved, formal man is unlikely to allow his distant relative to call himself by his first name just because you are the Robillard by blood on your mother's side. I appreciate his hospitality toward both you and our children, but I don't…"

Scarlett interrupted him. A dangerous light came into her eyes. "Enough, Rhett Butler! Enough!" She raised her voice as her temper boiled. "Good Lord!" she said impatiently. "Don't you ever think of anything but jealousy? I told you that I perceive Philippe as a friend, as a close relative, and as a good, pleasant gentleman. He also is very protective of me like he was protective of Annabelle and the other Robillards when they were imprisoned in the times of the bloody _Paris Commune_." She paused and looked at the book in her hands. Then the green eyes flew to Rhett. She lowered her voice, trying to restrain her anger. She swallowed hard and inhaled, exhaling swiftly. "Rhett, don't be jealous when you don't have any ground for it. Please don't provoke me. We reached some truce and I was happy with that. Believe me that it takes me a great effort to suppress my anger at you. I am trying to control my temper. Please try to control yourself and don't create more causes for any collisions."

Rhett smiled at her. His eyes turned kind. Indeed, he greatly though highly of Scarlett as she tried to control her temper in their relations and not to drive him to madness. "I am really sorry, Scarlett," he said gently and genuinely.

Scarlett also smiled as she saw that anger faded away from his black eyes and from a harsh line of his jaw line. She liked when Rhett acted sincerely and without a mask. She appreciated his sincere apology. Scarlett glared at him and smiled heartily. "Rhett, please go downstairs and wait for me there. I have to write a short letter to Suellen as I have just received a letter from her. I will come to you in ten minutes."

"I will be in the small reception room, Scarlett," Rhett replied, his eyes scanning her appearance. "Scarlett, I would love to make a compliment to you. I love this gown. Gold and silver gaze in combination look amazing, even despite the eccentric model of the gown."

Scarlett laughed. "Thank you, Rhett. I bought this dress in one of the shops on _Rue de la Paix__ in Paris_," she commented.

He winked at her. "I guess I know where you bought it. Is this the dress from Madame Jeanne Archambeault's shop on conjunction of _Rue de la Paix_ and _Place Vendome__?"_

"Oh, yes!" Scarlett smiled. "How do you know?"

Now it was Rhett's turn to smile. "Scarlett, when we were married, I used to buy for you a lot of clothes on the same _Rue de la Paix_ in many shops, including Madame Jeanne Archambeault's shop."

"Old habits die slowly or never die for both of us," she jeered. She suddenly looked as if she could walk a dozen miles and show no more than a sparkle in her beautiful, pale green eyes. She liked when they were talking in such a civil manner, like old friends.

Rhett smiled with satisfaction. "It appears so, _mon ami_."

Scarlett put the book on the bureau. "I have good news from Suellen. Carreen has left the convent to nurse my Aunt Eulalie in Charleston as she is having serious heart problems. My Aunts persuaded Carreen to come to Europe and not to go back to the convent of Savannah right when Aunt Eulalie feels better. They will come to Paris after the New Year. It cannot happen earlier because the doctor recommended Aunt Eulalie to spend more time in Charleston in order to be assured that her problems with heart wouldn't trouble her any longer. Carreen agreed to postpone her return to the convent for some time," she said.

"It is great news, Scarlett. I also hope that Eulalie Robillard will feel better soon," he admitted as he realized what it meant for Scarlett. "Well, I will wait for you in the small reception room."

As Rhett left Scarlett's bedchamber, she wrote a letter to Suellen. She thanked her sister for the letter and congratulated with her pregnancy. She also asked Suellen not to tell to anybody else that they had found so much money at Tara. She advised Suellen to talk to Carreen by herself in order to make sure that their sister would accompany Eulalie and Pauline to Europe. As she was done with writing, she put the letter in the envelope and asked Leontine to send it to the United States. Then she left the bedroom and came to Rhett in order to go to the park with the children.

As Scarlett had left the bedroom, she didn't see how _Julian St John Lessard, 13th Earl of Effingham_, noiselessly entered the room and took the book from the bureau. Nobody saw how he left the room, but the book disappeared. Being a loyal friend, Julian couldn't admit any problems for his dear friend Philippe to arise.

"Philippe, my dear Philippe! Thanks God that I saw this book in Scarlett's hands. Nobody should know about this event. Nobody should know your secret, and I will help you, my friend. I just hope that we won't have any problems with Rhett Butler," Effingham pledged in his mind as he was going back to his room to the south wing of the mansion.

* * *

_Hello, my dear readers! I am not back from my self-exile. I am just having a short break to upload the next chapter. Please be aware that I don't know when I will update next time as I am travelling extensively now and thus don't have time to edit._

_Please be aware that I have edited the Chapters between 20 and 30, combining the text between them and rearranging it. I did it because I added the chapter where Scarlett was introduced by the Duke of Aylesbury to the British Royal family (Chapter 28 and Chapter 29), and it is given in the conversation between Rhett and Scarlett as she is talking about that day. Prince Albert Edward will appear in the story in the end of Act IV and won't disappear for several chapters, and I don't want to describe the Royal family again. If you like history, you can read these chapters because there is a description of Windsor Castle there which I took from historical literature and the plan of the castle._

_I hope you like this chapter – Chapter 74. It is an attempt to make Scarlett and Rhett closer. I hope it is not too awkward attempt._

_Please be aware that Scarlett and Rhett are getting back together in the story and not in the right end, but it is happening gradually. Personally, I am not just sure that it is possible in real life._

_The children are showed to be very close to each other. I don't know how it is in reality with the twins. Please let me know if I am mistaken that they can often feel very close and as an integral part of each other. _

_In this chapter we also have some more hints about Philippe's mystery. Now you see what happened with money Philippe gave Ellen. I am beginning to slowly unfold the cobweb of mysteries which Philippe is keeping in secret and guarding them._

_Have a great week! I will miss you!_

_Reviews are very, very appreciated! Thank you in advance! _

_My self-exile is continuing._


	75. Chapter 75

**Chapter 75**

**In Vienna: **_**Jasper Alastair Robillard-Arden**_** and**_** Genevieve Margaret Robillard-Arden**_

Throughout the next days, Scarlett tried to find the book _Le Morte D'Arthur (The Death of Arthur) _by _Sir Thomas Malory, _which Suellen had found in the hiding place in the attic at Tara, later re-send it to Scarlett and which had obviously belonged to Philippe Robillard, but which had disappeared. It was as though the Earth had swallowed the book up. Scarlett concluded that somebody of the staff of the Aylesbury House had taken the book by mistake or that it had been somehow misplaced in any other way. She asked the servants, but all of them said that they didn't see the book. Scarlett was very displeased, but she could do nothing. It was not her house. In the end, she began to think that it was she who put the book somewhere and forgot about that. However, she didn't have any time to think about the past and about such a trifle as the disappearance of a simple book - all her thoughts were related to her present – her children and Rhett. If she had known that it had been a book that her mother Ellen had been granted as a gift much later than the date of Philippe Robillard's hypothetic death, she would have been very alarmed and would have done everything possible and impossible to find the book.

In one of the evenings, Scarlett and Rhett were sitting in the same small reception room in the north wing of the mansion. They have just arranged the children for the night sleep and finally were left alone. As always in the evening, Scarlett was sitting on the same sofa with silver embroidery, while Rhett occupied one of the Gothic armchairs near the window. Scarlett was thinking about the children, and Rhett's well-modulated, steady Charlestonian baritone made her came back to reality.

Rhett stared at Scarlett. "You looked a million miles away." His eyes were searching Scarlett's.

Scarlett smiled, and her face lit up in a huge grin. "Maybe."

"I have been waiting for those words from you for a very long time," he said in a silky voice.

Scarlett smoothed the fine fabric of her skirts. "Which words?"

"Several days ago you said that you don't need my money," he clarified.

She nodded slightly. "It is true."

"When I heard that, it was one of the sweetest moments in my life." Rhett smiled heartily at her. Then he extracted a cigar from his monogrammed cigar case and lit it.

"It is natural that I don't need your money thanks to my grandfather Pierre Robillard and my late husband _Marquis Mathieu de Bréval_." She smiled with a smile being a cold stretching of her sensual lips. "Poor dear Mathieu and poor dear Charles! They were so good people!" Her smile faded away.

Rhett smiled with an equally frigid smile. "I know."

She dropped her gaze for an instance. "I will think better what to do with their money."

Rhett fiercely frowned. "And what are you planning to do with the money?"

Scarlett didn't know that in reality Mathieu had willed to her only his mansion in the Baroque style on _Rue des Blancs Manteaux _in the aristocratic district _Le Marais__. _In accordance with Mathieu's final will, seventy percent of the money, which he kept in gold in English banks, was willed to his son Charles. Only the remaining thirty percent was left for Scarlett and her daughters Blanche and Isabelle. In reality, that thirty five percent, also kept in gold on one of Mathieu's bank accounts, was not Mathieu's money – it was the Duke of Aylesbury's money. Aylesbury didn't want Mathieu to will to Scarlett his own money, thinking that it was fair relative to Mathieu's son Charles, who was his father's only legal heir and the future holder of the title. At first Mathieu objected, but Aylesbury persuaded him. Only after Charles's death Scarlett received all the great fortune Mathieu had owned while the title of Marquis de Bréval went to Mathieu's first cousin Frédéric.

In fact, as of 1876, Scarlett was very rich. She had Mathieu's money, those thirty percent of his fortune he willed to her, in fact the Duke of Aylesbury's money. In addition, she had Pierre Robillard's great fortune. However, Scarlett's didn't know that Pierre had little of his own money left as in 1845 Pierre's fortune contracted fivefold due to many risky operations in the region of Caribbean Sea. These mysterious operations were undertaken by Pierre and his first cousin Gerard de Robillard, Annabelle's grandfather, and they indeed had a very shadowy nature. The majority of the money that Pierre Robillard had was the great, really great fortune which belonged to Pierre's brother Christophe and later to young Philippe Robillard and which was supposed to stay under Pierre's management till Philippe's maturity age. Only after Philippe's death in New Orleans Pierre Robillard became as rich as a Sultan of the Ottoman Empire, as he inherited young Philippe's money both in the United States and the fortune which belonged to his father Christophe in France.

_Arnaud Louis Claude de Robillard de Bréveaux, 17th Baron du Boismancellet_, who was Pierre Robillard's father and Scarlett's great-grandfather, divided his great fortune in equal parts. Arnaud had many children: Bernard, living in Vienna, and Nicolas, living in Paris; Pierre who was later known as Pierre Robillard of Savannah; Christophe who also joined Pierre in the Old South; Constance who was known to have her only son – the Duke of Aylesbury; Elisabeth, living in the family castle in Normandie; and Caroline who died in 1870. Arnaud divided his huge fortune between his children nearly in equal parts. And Arnaud was very rich, and before the French Revolution of 1789 Arnaud and his brothers Alexandre and Antoine had managed to transfer the majority of their money in English banks in gold, later making their wives and children flee France to England, while leaving themselves in France with a dreadful result – all "AAA" (Alexandre, Arnaud, Antoine), as they were referred among the courtiers of _King Louis XVI_ and _Queen Marie Antoinette's_ court, were sent to guillotine by Robespierre.

Arnaud didn't have the title to transfer to his children because his older brother, _Alexandre Louis Auguste de Robillard, 12th Count de Bréveaux_, who was Jean-Baptiste's father, had four sons and the title of _Baron du Boismancellet_ must have gone to one of Alexandre's sons in accordance with the bloodline principle - Arnaud wasn't Count de Bréveaux and his title of 17th Baron du Boismancellet was only a courtesy title to the title of _Count de Bréveaux_. Indeed, the next holder of the title – _18th Baron du Boismancellet_ – was Alexandre's son Gaspard, Jean-Baptiste's younger brother and the grandfather of the well-known twins Geoffroy, killed by Silvia Dawson, and Armand, referred to as _Armand Louis Charles d'Aubusson de La Feuillade, 10th Duke de Roannais_, instead of simply holding a title of _14th Count de Maulevrier_ as it had been before Geoffroy's death.

Not being the heir of the title of _Count de __Bréveaux_, Arnaud's hands weren't restricted by the requirement of the mandatory majorat, which was at those times necessary in France. Therefore Arnaud divided his fortune into equal parts for his children and put it into English banks. Christophe de Robillard used less than thirty percent of that money. After the death of Christophe and his wife Geneviève and later the tragic death of their son Philippe Robillard, Scarlett's grandfather Pierre Robillard inherited even Christophe's money in English banks. There was a clause in Christophe's will that if his only son Philippe died without any heirs, Christophe's money would go to Pierre Robillard as his legal heir. Christophe didn't make any changes in his will because he committed a suicide in 1839, as everybody thought, except for some people who paid a high price for their discovery in 1845.

To sum up, Scarlett now owned a part of her great-grandfather Arnaud de Robillard's fortune that was designated for Christophe and later was inherited by Pierre, as well as Aylesbury's money that Mathieu willed to her.

As though by magic, Scarlett's eyes stopped at the portrait of a very handsome young man with very dark brown, nearly black eyes, and jet-black hair. It was the portrait of her great-grandfather Arnaud de Robillard, which was hanging on the opposite wall to the wall with the Gothic frescoes. She smiled at she remarked how handsome her great-grandfather was.

"Most likely, I will return money to Mathieu's cousin Frédéric. I don't need and I don't want this money," she stated.

Rhett winked at her, watching her with his black, now meditative eyes. "I can imagine that you inherited a great fortune, my darling. But you still sound very greedy, don't you?"

"Yes, I do sound greedy, but not as much as I used to, Rhett," she remarked.

Scarlett and Rhett were so involved in their conversation that they didn't notice that they had been observed for quite some time by now.

"Well, well, well," the gentleman began in a mocking voice. It was a voice lower than a steady baritone, but crisp, sonorous, and deep. "I couldn't imagine whom I would meet in my favorite room of this house."

Rhett and Scarlett turned around. Rhett started with an intensive gaze at the unknown man, while Scarlett laughed gleefully as she was happy to see the gentlemen in front of her. Obviously, the gentleman was the Duke of Aylesbury's eldest son Jasper, Rhett mused.

Scarlett sprang around. Her green eyes flashed. "Jasper! Jasper! You have finally come!" she cried out, the embers of joy fulminating in her perfectly beautiful pale green eyes.

Rhett's eyes scanned the gentleman from his tiptoes to his crown. Jasper was a handsome young man with very dark brown, almost black eyes, and with thick, straight jet-black hair, as black as the darkest midnight. He was quite tall, with wide shoulders and very masculine. Jasper was standing in a careless, nonchalant, pompous pose, leaning back the doorway, his right leg on his left leg, his black eyes loungingly snapping across the room. The gentleman looked between twenty five and thirty years old. His skin was a little swarthy, but not as swarthy as Rhett's. His mouth wasn't full, but rather thin-lipped, yet very well-formed. He had high cheekbones, his jaw was chiseled, and his nose was probably too straight. His face was quite symmetrical with strong, pleasing features. His eyes betrayed no emotion, but rather boredom and contemplation. Jasper looked as a fireless, authoritative man.

There was little gentle and little soft in his attractive, not-so-classical features, but anyway he was suavely, alluringly handsome. Besides, there was an air of enigma and ambiguousness around him because he was always reserved and his face was unreadable. His entire essence was emitting enigma, power, authority, and allure, and that magnetism made women turn their heads and look at him, seeking his company. The typical dark attractiveness of the Robillards had retreated in each and every feature of Jasper's appearance, as well as in his father's appearance.

Jasper was dressed very elegantly and was an exclusive example of the latest fashion, yet rather uncommon in some details. He was wearing the black tailcoat, the black trousers, as well as the ivory waistcoat with silver embroidery and the silver buttons, the ivory shirt with the high pleated collar, and the beige puff tie with one diamond stud. His hands were elegantly gloved in the black silky gloves. The black top hat finished his evening attire. Rhett noticed that the cuffs and the neck of his shirt were trimmed with wide strips of ivory Venetian laces, which wasn't typical for the Victorian male fashion. In addition, there were three tiers of ruffles cascade down the front, above the waistcoat, with matching frills at each cuff, which corresponded to a French fashion of the beginning and the middle of the 18th century. Rhett remembered that Aylesbury was also wearing the shirt in the same fashion when Rhett had seen Aylesbury in London the last time. Apparently, the Duke of Aylesbury and his son Jasper had their own tastes in fashion and liked to add to their Victorian wardrobe some items from the 17th and the 18th centuries.

Jasper came to Scarlett and unceremoniously hugged her. He was always acting so when he met either Scarlett or Annabelle who used to be his lover many years ago. Now, when Jasper knew the truth about his father Philippe's life and Philippe's secret about Scarlett, Jasper felt an afflux of new, unusual tenderness and softness to Scarlett. Philippe told him the whole truth when they met in Geneva three days ago.

Aylesbury had to reveal the truth to Jasper because they were going to work on a very complicated deal with Silvia Dawson. A thirty-year old man now, Jasper had been working with Philippe at the Foreign Office for the past ten years. It was Jasper's desire to join his father at the Foreign Office, and Philippe could do nothing, despite countless persuasions and arguments against Jasper's idea. Jasper's stubbornness, headstrongness, and aspiration for freedom couldn't have been outplayed and ignored. Philippe always tried to secure Jasper as much as he could in various operations.

Due to the fact that the situation with the deal around Silvia Dawson was critical now, Philippe's couldn't hide many facts from his eldest son Jasper, who was his young copy in both his appearance and his character, at the same time both of them being Arnaud de Robillard's fine copy. Jasper was in profound shock and horror when he had learnt the truth. He implored Philippe never to reveal those dreadful facts of his father's life to the general public. In response, Philippe only laughed and said that he would never do that because the exterior honor of the Robillards mustn't be demolished. Jasper swore that he would never tell the truth to somebody, including the secret about Scarlett. Jasper pledged that he would keep his mouth shut, even relative to his brothers, especially his younger brother and confident Morgan.

Jasper continued to hug Scarlett. "My dear Scarlett," he said softly.

"Jasper!" Scarlett exclaimed as he hugged her again. "Jasper! You will strangle me!"

Jasper not only hugged Scarlett, but also kissed her on her cheeks. "Yes, it is me. I am Jasper." He let out a melodic, cheerful, yet low laugh. However, in reality Jasper's frame of mind was very far from being merry after what Philippe had told him, including the new information about the deal with Silvia Dawson. Had Jasper known the whole truth about Silvia Dawson, he would have been even more worried – Philippe didn't tell him who their archenemy was.

Scarlett pulled back and smiled at him. "Jasper, you will never change relative to me! You are always greeting me with warm hugs and I am always struggling for my breath."

Jasper's face turned serious. "Scarlett, you know that I am not always behaving in such a way."

Scarlett smiled at him. "Oh, I know, Jasper." Then she looked at Rhett who was keeping silent and watching them. "Jasper, this is Monsieur Rhett Butler, my former husband."

Jasper bowed low to Rhett. "I am very happy to meet you, Monsieur Butler," he said with an underlying chill in his voice.

Rhett replied with a low bow and with a cold smile that touched only his lips, not his black eyes. "I am delighted to meet you too, sir."

Scarlett stared at Rhett. "Rhett, I am happy to introduce to you _Jasper Alastair Robillard-Arden, the heir apparent to 8th Duke of Aylesbury and_ _10th Marquess of Wycombe__."_

"It is very nice to meet you, Lord Wycombe," Rhett said and bowed. "My name is Rhett Butler."

Jasper also bowed. "I am also glad to meet you, Monsieur Butler." Jasper's lips twitched into a sardonic smile. "However, I am no longer Lord Wycombe. Morgan is Lord Wycombe," he supplemented.

"Sorry, but I don't understand," Scarlett supplied.

Jasper glared at her and smiled with warmth, his eyes flashing with embers of joy. "Everything is very simple, Scarlett. My new name is _Jasper Alastair Robillard-Arden, 3rd Duke of Kingston-upon-Hull_. I passed the subsidiary title of the Dukes of Aylesbury to Morgan, and he is now _Morgan George Robillard-Arden, the heir apparent to 8th Duke of Aylesbury and 11th Marquess of Wycombe_."

"God's nightgown, Jasper! Congratulations!" Scarlett exclaimed. "I see that the Robillard-Ardens were finally granted the second dukedom. There were rumors about it for so many months."

Jasper nodded. "Yes, it is the second dukedom. My father also transferred on my name one third of his fortune, stating that the money from my trust fund wasn't enough for the Duke."

The green eyes were beaming. "Oh, Jasper! You are so rich now!"

"Yes, I am." Jasper nodded. "Now I must think how to increase this fortune."

"I am sure you will learn how to do this," Scarlett replied. "Are you happy that it happened?"

Jasper nodded_. "Indubitablement (Undoubtedly)."_

"Your Grace, let me congratulate you," Rhett said with a smile.

"Thank you, Monsieur Butler," Jasper replied. He smiled woodenly. "Monsieur Butler, you can call me Kingston, although it is quite new for me because I got accustomed to being addressed as Lord Wycombe in the past many years. Alternatively you can call me Monsieur Jasper."

"Thank you for letting me know, your Grace," Rhett said dryly. "You can also call me Monsieur Butler and Monsieur Rhett," he parried. He was silently cursing Aylesbury and Jasper's well-known formality.

An ambivalent smile tugged at Jasper's lips. "Thank you, Monsieur Butler."Scarlett's green eyes were beaming. "Jasper, when did it happen?"

"It happened last week. Actually, it happened only because my father was awarded for his diplomatic job in British India. _Queen Victoria_ has finally taken the title of "_Empress of India_" from 1 May 1876. In addition, thanks to my father's actions, as well as thanks to Effingham and Lauderdale's participation, a new province was established in British India – Andaman and Nicobar Islands. It happened in 1869. Moreover, it was done thanks to my father's success in the diplomatic relations with China. _Queen Victoria_ has always remembered what my father and his friends Lauderdale and Effingham had done for the country in _the Second Opium War of 1856-1860_," Jasper said proudly.

Scarlett threw at Jasper a quizzing look. "And what did Philippe do in that War?"

Jasper laughed. "In first place, my father earned a lot of money. Scarlett, the Robillard-Arden family has money only thanks to my father's business operations in British India and the inheritance of some money from the Robillards by my father."

Rhett smiled ironically. "Were these the speculations with opium?" Rhett was ready to laugh. The dashing, rich Duke of Aylesbury was a speculator, like Rhett Butler himself!

Jasper laughed. "Of course, and it is not a secret." He laughed again, his laugh flying higher and higher to the high ceiling of the Gothic room. "In 1847 my father had bought a sizable stake in the East India Company. Finally, he had sold this stake at a triple price in 1856, almost before the company's official dissolution in 1858, following the rebellion of 1857 in British India. After the rebellion, the British Crown assumed the direct control of the territories and treaty arrangements of the former East India Company. As a result, now British India's reign is known as "_British Raj_." In addition, there were numerous speculations with opium, and my father was not the only one who was doing that. Many English and French businessmen imported opium from India and sold it in China where the demand for opium had skyrocketed after the practice of mixing opium with tobacco for smoking had been introduced into China by Europeans. The profits from these speculations were huge." He paused to clear his throat. "My father began his speculations with opium in 1849, nearly in the first year of his arrival to British India."

"And did Effingham and Lauderdale participate in those speculations?" Scarlett asked.

Jasper smiled sarcastically. "Naturally."

"And what else did happen in British India? I assume that to be granted the second dukedom you must do something really special," Scarlett said.

Jasper laughed. "Oh Scarlett, it is a long story. I would try to be short. As a special ambassador in British Asia, my father, the Duke of Aylesbury, participated in many rounds of negotiations with the Chinese. Finally, _the Treaty of Tianjin_ was ratified by _Yixin, the Prince Gong_, in the Convention of Peking on 18 October 1860, and _the Second Opium War_ was finished. My father and his dear friends Effingham and Lauderdale participated in the working out and ratification of _the Treaty of Tianjin_, which included extremely good conditions for the British Crown. The British, the French and even the Russians were all granted a permanent diplomatic presence in Beijing. Moreover, the Chinese had to pay a huge sum of money to both Britain and France. And most importantly, the Britain Crown annexed Kowloon, next to Hong Kong. And, of course, the opium trade was legalized."

Scarlett was confused. Again new words, again new places were mentioned. God, how boring these diplomatic things were, she thought. She shook her head in uncertainty. "I am crushed! Is Beijing the capital of the Chinese Empire?" she assumed.

"Exactly, darling. Beijing is the capital. The new territory of the British Empire, Hong Kong is situated on China's south coast and is enclosed by _the Pearl River Delta_ and _South China Sea_." Jasper paused and glared at bewildered Scarlett. He realized that, being born at the American South, she had never even heard about these places. "Scarlett, just know that that these places are in Southeast Asia."

Scarlett smiled good-humouredly at Rhett and Jasper. "Someone will have to show me these places on the map."

Rhett also smiled. "I can show these places to you, Scarlett."

"No problem," Jasper said. "You see either Monsieur Butler or I will do this."

"Thank you," she said. Then she gazed at Jasper. "Jasper, have you been in all these places?" she asked.

"I have been everywhere in British Asia. I spent in the region especially much time between 1866 and 1870. In 1865, my father came back home from Brunei, which was horrible because we didn't expect to see him alive. And in 1866, after the exterminatory scandal around my name, we left for British India and didn't come back for around two years. Then we returned to London in 1868, then again left, then again returned. It was a very interesting time for me. Only in the last years, my father began more involved in the parliamentarian debates about British Asia and the number of our trips in the region dropped conspicuously." Jasper paused. He lied. Of course, he knew the true reason why Philippe no longer came to British Asia so often – Philippe was working on an over-confidential project on the Continent. Then another wave of warmth filled his black eyes, and he smiled with his lips and eyes as he looked at Scarlett. "All my brothers and sisters and I spent much time of our early youth in British India, mainly in Calcutta," Jasper added.

Now Scarlett realized which scandal Jasper had always meant. It was his divorce, which François mentioned. "Which scandal did you mean, Jasper? Is it your divorce?"

Rhett nearly jumped from the spot. Despite the fact that he had divorced Scarlett, he was still unaccustomed to hearing about somebody's divorce. In addition, he was interested how such a young man as Jasper Robillard-Arden could be divorced in conservative England.

A smile was gone from Jasper's face. "I hate to remember the history of my divorce."

"I am sorry for mentioning it," Scarlett said sincerely.

"It is alright now." Jasper sighed. "I couldn't be married to Lady Cornelia whom I didn't love and who trapped me in a marriage cobweb like a silly fool. I was very young at that time. It happened in 1866. She was pregnant when I married her. When she gave birth to a brown-colored boy, everybody was in horror. I thought that my mother Lady Georgette would kill Lady Cornelia. She did everything to make her show her disgrace in public and to humiliate her. My mother's revenge was very cruel. Soon my father and his lawyers made the divorce petition to the House of Lords and in two months I was a free divorced man. My divorce petition was supported by all the members of the House of Lords."

"I am very sorry, your Grace," Rhett said. Indeed, he was shocked. He could imagine what it had meant for such a family like the Robillard-Ardens was.

"It is fine, Monsieur Butler," Jasper said simply. "Now I really don't care." He sighed as he recalled Annabelle. "So you are not the only divorced person among the Robillards, Scarlett."

Rhett shuddered inwardly as he had heard that comment. He felt pain that he had divorced Scarlett. If Jasper indeed had a serious ground for divorce, Rhett's reasons for divorce were abstruse. Rhett was only running from himself. He felt as though his heart was bathing in a great deal of acid-etch liquid, which was corroding his heart at first in its core and then closer and closer to the surface. Guilt and shame penetrated into his body again. However, his face didn't express any one of his feelings.

Scarlett decided to change the subject. She didn't want Jasper to have any reminders about his love story with Annabelle and his dreadful marriage experience. "It is great that you have the second dukedom," she said. She smiled banteringly.

"The Robillard-Ardens secured the title of _the Duke of Kingston-upon-Hull_ with the subsidiary title of _the Marquess of Dorchester_. _Queen Victoria_ only recreated the old dukedom for us, which turned extinct in the end of the 18th century and didn't belong to the Ardens. However, now it is our dukedom and I became _3rd Duke of Kingston-upon-Hull_," Jasper finished his long tirade. Then he chuckled. "Well, my dear mother Lady Georgette has always wanted us to have two dukedoms. Now she would be happy."

Scarlett flinched at Jasper's acid tone as he said those words about Georgette. She knew that he had always treated his mother respectfully, but with chill. She didn't understand why it was so.

"Jasper, I am sorry, but I think that you shouldn't talk about your mother in such a cool tone," Scarlett remarked.

Rhett looked at Jasper with interest and curiosity. He noticed coldness and mocking in young man's deep voice.

Jasper's jaw tensed. He sighed. "Scarlett, Lady Georgette has always loved Morgan and me no more than one of her dresses. She has always treated me with some chill and even negligence at times. The same was with Morgan."

Scarlett shuddered. "Why is it so, if I may ask?"

Jasper raised his brows. "It is because Morgan and I are very similar to our father both in appearance and in character. Therefore, my dear Lady Georgette has always treated Morgan and me with a shadow of polite indifference. She loved Christopher and Jacob much more than us. Jacob took more after the Ardens than after the Robillards, and therefore he had always been her favorite. If my mother could make Jacob or even Christopher her eldest son and exclude Morgan and me from the bloodline in order not to inherit the titles, she would have done it without any hesitation."

Christopher was the third son of the Duke of Aylebsury, Jacob - the youngest and the forth.

Scarlett was shocked. "I am very sorry, Jasper," she said sincerely.

"Scarlett, I am not a little boy, so that you don't harm me with additional questions," Jasper said and smiled. Then his black eyes wandered to Rhett Butler and then back to Scarlett. "Scarlett, you see that there are very bad marriages, very miserable, like my father's matrimony."

Rhett felt a lump in his throat. The only thing that Jasper didn't say was that his father's marriage had always been much more miserable than Rhett and Scarlett's matrimony. Of course, Jasper implied that.

"Jasper, I am sorry," Scarlett murmured.

Jasper smiled. "It is fine, as I said."

"And what about Effingham and Lauderdale?" Scarlett asked.

"Now Effingham has countless acres of land in Surrey and the title of _the Marquess of Monthermer_ for his eldest son Edmund, together with the title of the Duke which Effingham had recently inherited from his father. Lauderdale was granted the second dukedom for his eldest son Stephen, who is my best friend," Jasper explained.

Scarlett was bewildered. "My Lord! Did Effingham's father die?"

"Yes, he did. _Oliver St John Lessard, 11th Duke of Effingham and Guilford, _died in London several days ago. Now Effingham is _Julian St John Lessard, 12th Duke of Effingham and Guilford. _The Earl of Effingham will continue to be the subsidiary title for the Dukes of Effingham and Guilford. Effingham's first son, Edmund will be _5th Marquess of Monthermer_, while his second son Steven will be _14th Earl of Effingham_."

"And Effingham is in Vienna now! He must go back to London!" Scarlett said sorrowfully.

"He will go, Scarlett. He was waiting for me to come here," Jasper explained.

Scarlett smiled vaguely. "And now you are here, and you are the Duke, Jasper."

An ambiguous smile stirred Jasper's lips. "_Oui, je suis ici (Yes, I am here)._"

Scarlett smiled. "Well, I think these rewards that Philippe, Effingham, and Lauderdale had received are quite adequate."

"Quite so," Jasper said.

Rhett thought that Jasper was as cold, dispassionate, and formal as his father, the Duke of Aylesbury. However, it wasn't a simple, pure pomposity and arrogance. It seemed to be a natural formality and restrain of emotions. At least it looked very natural, Rhett looked. He remarked that Jasper was very similar to Aylesbury in his appearance.

Rhett smiled. "Again, congratulations, your Grace," he said politely.

"Thank you, your lordship." Jasper's black eyes met Rhett's black, and both of them noticed that Jasper's eyes had a little lighter hue. Now Jasper's eyes were cold, warmth was gone from his handsome face. Now he was as dispassionate as his father, the Duke of Aylesbury. "I thought that you are _Rhett Kenneth Butler, 8th Marquess of Rockingham_," he added.

Rhett jaw tightened. Damn the Duke of Aylesbury, he knew everything, even the fact that Rhett was going to claim the title he had recently inherited and that his lawyers were working on that fact now. "If I may ask, how do you know about that fact, your Grace?"

Jasper shrugged nonchalantly. "It is very simple. I have just arrived from Geneva where I met my father and _Benjamin Disraeli, the British Prime Minister and 1st Earl of Beaconsfield_. As far as I know, my father, the Duke of Aylesbury, asked Benjamin Disraeli to facilitate the consideration of your case with the claim of the title at the Houses of Lords."

"Then I should thank his Grace the Duke of Aylesbury for his help," Rhett said politely.

Scarlett's eyes were piercing Rhett. "So you inherited the title, didn't you?"

"As I mentioned, it happened through my English relatives," Rhett explained.

"Congratulations, your lordship," Scarlett smirked.

Rhett stared at her. "Thank you, Scarlett."

"I am delighted that you will have the English title," Scarlett supplied sincerely.

Jasper's black eyes twinkled. "Monsieur Butler, I think the consideration of your case with the title will be finalized in two-three weeks at most. Rest assured that Benjamin Disraeli will help you if the Duke of Aylesbury asks him."

Rhett managed a smile. He had a strange feeling of confusion, displeasure, and excitement. "I must thank his Grace the Duke of Aylesbury personally."

Jasper also smiled, his eyes remaining untouched. "I guess so."

Scarlett's green eyes fixed on the portrait of Arnaud de Robillard. "God's nightgown! Jasper, you are the same man as our great-grandfather Arnaud!" Scarlett exclaimed and glanced at Jasper. "Look at that portrait! You are so similar to him!"

Rhett smiled. "I think you took much after that gentleman on the portrait, your Grace."

Jasper shrugged. "Both my father and I have strong resemblance to the magnificent Arnaud de Robillard, who was the star of _King Louis XVI and Queen Marie Antoinette's_ court. Arnaud was a hero of many love stories at the court, while his fortune was the object of envy for many nobles among the beau monde of France."

"Jasper! You took so much after him! You are one of the most notorious _les sauvages nobles_ of London," Scarlett commented. "Now, your Grace Duke of Kingston-upon-Hull, you must marry, but a lady whom you love, if such a lucky lady exists."

Jasper laughed. "It is exactly what I am going to do. I arrived in Vienna to propose to one lady."

"My dear Jasper, congratulations! Who is she?" Scarlett inquired.

"My dear Scarlett," Jasper echoed. "I will introduce you to my lady Beatrix later. She lives in Vienna."

The green eyes flashed with merriment. "I am so happy for you!" Then she paused as a thought stroke her mind. "Jasper, do you love her? Does she love you?"

"_Je l'aime de tout cœur. Elle m'aime vraiment aussi - je le sais (I love her wholeheartedly. She also loves me genuinely - I know it),_" Jasper asserted.

Scarlett sighed with relief. "I hope that it is not like the case with Annabelle," she remarked carefully.

"No, Scarlett. Annabelle is in the past. I was too young and too inexperienced to think that I can be happy with Annabelle. However, I indeed loved her from the bottom of my heart," Jasper confessed.

Scarlett glared at Jasper, her eyes flashed with flame. "I know, Jasper."

Jasper let out a small sigh. "I had been suffering for more than five years before I dragged myself out of Annabelle's spell. I would say that I am very lucky to forget her. I am also the only man who managed to forget her."

"Annabelle broke hearts of many men," Scarlett commented.

"_Oui, c'est vrai. Un grand nombre de courtisans à la cour de Napoléon III était en amour avec Annabelle.__ (__Yes, it is true. A lot of courtiers at Napoleon III's court were in love with Annabelle)_," Jasper supplied. "Annabelle and I are only friends now," he ascertained.

Rhett didn't understand what Jasper meant. Why was Annabelle mentioned? How did it happen that Jasper loved her? But it didn't matter much for him. However, he was interested.

"I am happy that you are not like Armand," Scarlett said.

Jasper grimaced. "Please, don't remind me about that ridiculous wedding. Armand will just fulfill his duty and marry Clémentine."

"I understand that Armand has to marry," Scarlett admitted.

"Unfortunately, it is so," Jasper declared. "Armand gave a word to his father on his deathbed. He must marry."

As they were talking, Rhett took a sit on a sofa. Now he was wasting his time looking at the furnishings in the room.

"Oh, yes," Scarlett breathed.

"We will attend the wedding," Jasper assured.

Scarlett nodded. "Of course, Jasper." Then she glared at him seriously. "Tell me where are your brothers Christopher and Jacob and your sisters Madeleine and Genevieve?"

A melodic, soft voice was speaking. It was a lady who was standing at the doorway. "I am here with Jasper. Morgan is in the South of France in Toulouse. Christopher is in Scotland with Lord Marchmont, Annabelle and her son René, while Jacob is with our mother in Cornwall in England. However, they will come to Vienna in the middle of August to attend the wedding. Morgan will arrive here from Toulouse at the same time. Madeleine won't come. My mother won't come either."

Scarlett turned around and saw the Duke of Aylesbury's youngest daughter Genevieve. Rhett also turned around and was stunned with what he had seen.

A seventeen-year old lady, Genevieve was strikingly beautiful. She was dressed in the elegant tight outdoor gown of a dark green color, with the low V-shaped neckline, with the medium-length train, and with _Marie Antoinette sleeves_, which were the full to the wrist and tied into compartments by one row of light green ruffles. The wristbands of her gown were trimmed by Venetian laces of lavender color. Her heavy, dark ash blonde hair was arranged in the form of the diadem, with flat bands not covering the ears, which was the style of _the Second Empire of France_.

Genevieve's beauty was warm - the young girl was radiating with heat and warmth from all her essence. Genevieve's face was like a statue of a Roman or a Greek Goodness of heart and home and love. She was classically beautiful with her perfectly classical oval face and her large, expressive, almond-shaped, midnight green eyes that were radiating warmth. Her nose was slim and delicate, her lips were full and rosy, while highs cheekbones and pure alabaster skin. Genevieve's very dark ash blonde hair was lustrous and full-bodied. Genevieve had powerful and striking physique with wide shoulders, full breasts, and long, shapely legs. Her height was average. While Annabelle was also nearly classically beautiful, probably excluding her quite thin lips, there was always fatality and doom, coldness and mystery in her appearance, as though it had been an unearthly face of a Goodness of a mystery. In contrast to Annabelle, Genevieve was very natural and earthly, and there was warm heat and vivacity in her beauty.

Scarlett smiled with good cheer. "Genevieve, darling, I didn't know that you would come to Vienna."

Genevieve smiled light-heartedly. "Scarlett, my dear, I am very happy to see you."

Scarlett stepped closer to Genevieve and hugged her. For them it was also a usual manner to greet each other. "I am also delighted to meet you," she said. Scarlett looked at Rhett. "Rhett, may I introduce to you _Genevieve Margaret Robillard-Arden_. She is the Duke of Aylesbury's youngest daughter." Scarlett paused and gazed at Genevieve. "Genevieve, this gentleman is _Rhett Kenneth Butler, 8th Marquess of Rockingham_. I think he would prefer to be addressed to as Monsieur Butler." Going ahead, Scarlett used Rhett's new title. She wanted to grin at him.

Genevieve smiled merrily, and Rhett bowed low to her. He took Genevieve's left hand and slightly brushed it with his lips.

"It is nice to meet you in Vienna, your lordship," Genevieve replied shyly.

Rhett smiled at her. "I am also honoured to meet you, Lady Robillard-Arden."

Genevieve smiled endearingly up at him. "Thank you, Monsieur Butler."

Jasper smiled, the emotion reaching his eyes at that moment. Then his eyes turned impenetrable again. "Genevieve was bored with London and we decided to come here to together," he explained.

"Jasper, I am so happy that you took Genevieve with you," Scarlett said softly. Her green eyes locked with Genevieve's midnight green eyes. "You look so beautiful today. This midnight green dress exactly matches the color of your eyes. You made excellent choice," she remarked.

Genevieve ran her eyes over Scarlett. "Scarlett, darling, you also look amazing, as usual. But you are too thin. How do you feel after the poisoning? How could you leave London so early? We all were very worried about you. You cannot imagine how worried my father was," she said in a rush, her voice sounding agitated.

Scarlett cast a kind-hearted glance at Genevieve. "Genevieve, I am on my way to complete recovery. Very soon I will feel much better."

"Oh, God, Scarlett!" Genevieve clapped her hands. "Please take excellent care of yourself. You must eat more. You must sleep more. You must rest."

Scarlett smiled softly. "Genevieve, I will be fine. I can assure you." She liked Genevieve from the bottom of her heart.

"Scarlett, let me know if you need something. I will do everything you need," Genevieve said gently.

Rhett was looking at this exchange of words, and his heart was blossoming. He liked the young girl and her kind, caring attitude to Scarlett. He liked her more than he liked formal, emotionless Jasper. Besides, he was mesmerized by Genevieve's beauty. And, of course, he noticed her midnight green eyes and her very dark ash blond hair, the same as his daughter Isabelle had. Rhett smiled to himself and decided that he had finally seen one of the Robillards with the same hair color and the same startlingly midnight green eyes.

Actually, Geneviève's large midnight green eyes and her very dark ash blonde hair had always been the symbol of another family, quite famous in France, –the family Félix-Muy-Grignan. Christophe de Robillard's wife and the mother of the presumably deceased Philippe Robillard - _Geneviève Marguerite Marie-Louise de Félix du Muy de Grignan _- descended from that family and had the same dark, midnight green eyes, dark ash blonde hair, and the same contemplative, reserved behavior. Were these traits somehow inherited by Genevieve and little Isabelle? Apparently, it was so, but neither Rhett nor Scarlett knew about that.

Later, Jasper and Genevieve retired to their rooms and Rhett left for _the Hotel Imperial_. Genevieve and Jasper occupied the rooms on the second floor in the north wing of the mansion. Their rooms were close to Scarlett's bedroom and the room of her daughters. Jasper explained that he, Morgan, and Genevieve had always occupied those rooms in the north wing because the interior there was decorated in the Baroque style, while Christopher and Jacob usually lived in the east wing, which was the finest product of the Gothic decoration. Their elder sister Madeleine had never liked Vienna and very rarely came there.

Effingham and Jasper spent the whole evening in the south wing of the mansion. They were talking about the deal with Silvia Dawson as Jasper told Julian about what Philippe had known. Both men were only shaking their heads as the situation was indeed very dangerous. Even now when they didn't know all the truth – the sense of the project Philippe had been working at for many years in Europe and in British Asia, they were very worried about Scarlett. Had they known all the truth, they would have probably had much less time to sleep. However, such time would come soon, and Jasper and Julian understood that. Next morning after Jasper and Genevieve's arrival to Vienna, Effingham left Vienna for London in order to attend the funeral and the memorial evening in the honor of his father, as well as to accept his new title – _14th Duke of Effingham and Guilford._ Effingham pledged to come back to Vienna by the beginning of the third week of August in order to be able to accompany all of them to Toulouse.

* * *

_This chapter was necessary to introduce two of Philippe's children. I began to gather the pieces of evidence against Philippe's mystery – the hidden money Sullen found at Tara and now Genevieve's midnight green eyes and dark ash blonde hair. Midnight green eyes are my idea - I didn't want to call the color of the eyes just deep green or dark green. More interesting facts about Philippe and Pierre will come soon._

_Historical facts about British India are correct. In the past money earned on speculations with opium was great._

_Reviews are very, very much appreciated. Thank you!_


	76. Chapter 76

**Act IV**

**Chapter 76**

**In Geneva: Philippe and Anaïs**

It was an early morning of August 1876 in Geneva, the city in the French part of Switzerland. _Philippe Justin Robillard-Arden, 8th Duke of Aylesbury, _was lying on the large bed in his luxurious suite at _Beau-Rivage Geneva_, a five star luxury hotel, founded in 1865 by the Mayer family. The balcony of the suite was looking out over the spectacular panoramic scenery of Lake Geneva and the Alps, which has always been a source of inspiration for Aylesbury. Usually he always took this particular room in the hotel when he was in Geneva.

The Duke of Aylesbury wasn't sleeping – he awoke around six in the morning and spent several hours, trying to fall asleep again, but everything was in vain. He even tried to count in his mind, but sleep still didn't claim him. Probably, he couldn't sleep after a night of passion he had spent in Geneva, the first night when he had any physical contact with a woman in the past month.

The Duke of Aylesbury wasn't alone – a quite young, beautiful woman was sleeping near him. She snuggled closer to him, her head on his bare chest. He looked at her and smiled wistfully. This woman was _Anaïs Laure Victurnienne de Harlay, Baroness de La Chardonnière. _She had just arrived to him from Paris where her world-old lover _Duke Roger d'Estissac _had asked her to have a break in their relations because his wife had learnt that the lovers had began to date again and threatened to submit a petition for divorce with Roger if he hadn't broken his relations with Anaïs. As a result, Anaïs was left alone, with her eternal problems how to find a man who will cover all her personal expenses. Although Roger had always paid for Anaïs's illegitimate children, whether his or not, always giving money to her, Anaïs had still wanted more. Besides, she couldn't live without a man and intimacy for a long time as she needed physical contact with a man at least several days per a week. That was her physical nature that had her upper hand in what she was doing or what she was intending to do.

As Anaïs arrived from Paris in Geneva at midday yesterday, the Duke of Aylesbury and she had spent half of the day, wandering in the city and visiting some places of interest. Of course, Aylesbury bought for Anaïs several fashionable gowns and some new seductive undergarments. He also made her a special present – an expensive pocket watch by Patek Philippe, which had assumed a leading role in the Swiss watch making industry by the middle of the 19th century. Anaïs was utterly happy to have these good gifts. Most importantly, she was happy to finally spend time with Philippe. Later they had a magnificent dinner at the hotel restaurant and enjoyed the panoramic views on Geneva Lake. Anaïs had never been in Geneva before, and she was fascinated by the city. After the dinner Philippe immediately invited Anaïs to his room number, and they spent a passionate night together, which was their first night after their quite long estrangement of four years.

The Duke of Aylesbury occupied a large suite with the exterior in the Renaissance style. As Aylesbury ran his eyes across the room, his gaze stopping at Italian painted cassone near a large French window. His gaze embraced the fine lines of the furniture made out of willow and decorated in rich style, with many inlays of ivory, gold, and marble, some pieces decorated with marquetry. Rich velvets and shimmering gauzes, all used for wall coverings and draperies in the room, infused a feeling of placidness into the Duke of Aylesbury's mind. Then his gaze fixed on several chairs and at the armchair where his clothes were carelessly thrown yesterday. Aylesbury smiled as he had always especially liked chairs and armchairs in the Renaissance style, which were being considered symbols of wealth in the Renaissance Italy and thus were made very sumptuous and grand, which was achieved by hand-carved scrollwork and embellishments on legs, arms and backs of chairs.

The bedchamber also had numerous fine Italian frescoes on the ceiling and on the wall opposite the bed. On one of the walls there were two incredible works of two artists – one by _Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino_ and one by _Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni_, both oil paintings in the ornate gold frames were used for oil paintings. All of his houses had several rooms with frescoes, and he was happy that in the hotel there were elegant spacious suites that satisfied his fastidious tastes.

The Duke of Aylesbury looked at Anaïs and smiled as she snuggled closer to him. His right hand embraced her tighter as he kissed her on her forehead. Anaïs smiled in her sleep, which also made Aylesbury to smile. He was thinking about his personal life, silently cursing cruel fate over and over again.

The Duke of Aylesbury was always caring of his mistresses and tried to give them as much comfort as he could, mainly in the form of monetary support. He also gave his women physical satisfaction as he had always been a passionate, skillful lover and his mistresses truly enjoyed their intimacy. Many of his lovers sympathized to him, and some even loved him, loved passionately and unconditionally. Aylesbury couldn't return their feelings because his only true love had always been his brown-eyed cousin Ellen Robillard, whom he would love till his deathbed. In the relations with his mistresses, he tried to add at least some lightness and brightness in their relations by fulfilling their whims and by paying for their extravagant lives – he couldn't give them something more.

In reality, Aylesbury was tired of such miserable private life, which included the game of love, the perpetual sizing up of partners with no thought of lasting personal happiness, only gain or physical pleasure. He had never been a proponent of extreme sexual freedom, unrestrained by morality or religion. He had never been an incorrigible debauchee and an empty-headed idler, and if he had had any opportunity to sort out his private life, he would have done it with great delight. However, the Duke of Aylesbury didn't have any other alternatives because his private life was ruined many years ago as Pierre Robillard's intrigues and acts of atrocity stripped him from Ellen and made him escape the Old South, later marrying _Georgette Anne Arden_ in order to change his name. As his only love – Ellen Robillard - was dead, Aylesbury couldn't even visit her from time to time in the United States, so that he had to waste his years in emotional loneliness and in physical proximity with many women who didn't mean something serious in his life.

The relations with his wife _Georgette Anne Robillard-Arden, the Duchess of Aylesbury_, were terrible – everything was shattered into many small pieces many years ago, and nothing was expected to ever change in that doomed marriage. Georgette and Aylesbury had been tormenting each other for many years, starting nearly from the first years of their marriage when he called his wife "my Elaine" and "my love Elaine" in the bed, which resulted in the hysterical outburst of rage from Georgette's side. The Duke of Aylesbury only shrugged in response as she accused him of mental infidelity. And what else could he say in that situation? How could he justify himself?

As Georgette first betrayed him with his classmate from Oxford, he also took his first mistress in Oxford and later several more in London. As he traveled to British India, he also had many mistresses there, often taking his lovers from England or France to British India, like he did with Anaïs in 1869. Of course, Georgette also spent much time in British India: the Duke of Aylesbury took his wife there to sleep with her in order to have more children and to be sure that the child was his. Naturally, he also needed his wife, who was a beautiful, passionate woman, to satisfy his physical needs.

By now Aylesbury didn't sleep with his wife for around fifteen years. Georgette and Aylesbury's relations further worsened after she had given birth to a stillborn child in 1857. The grief didn't bond them and resulted only in hatred from her side and aloofness from his side. As their youngest daughter Genevieve Margaret was born in 1859, the Duke of Aylesbury stopped sharing the bed with his wife. Aylesbury was not a woman that would cling on to a sinking ship. As by that moment their relations had completely deteriorated, he considered to be unfair to sleep with his wife as he didn't want to simply use her body.

It was true that Aylesbury didn't care that Georgette had many lovers and even that she had disgraced him as a husband many times. However, there was one issue that had driven him away from his wife and strengthened the emotional estrangement between the spouses over years. The heart-shattering moment was that Georgette wasn't very interested in their children, especially in their eldest sons Jasper and Morgan, who took so much after their father and almost nothing after Georgette and the Ardens. Georgette had always treated Jasper and Morgan with chillness, often mocking that they were so much French in their blood and so much the Robillards. The Duke of Aylesbury hated Georgette's treatment of Jasper and Morgan, whom he dearly loved, and it was a great source for clashes. Georgette loved wholeheartedly their youngest son Jacob, who was so much alike the Ardens – arrogant, pompous, and similar to them in appearance. Georgette openly expressed her dominated preference for Jacob in front of other children. Their other children – Christopher, Genevieve, and Madeleine – were treated with the air of polite caring for their well-being without any emotional proximity and close bonds. The children had always understood that.

Georgette's scandalous love escapades, her impersonal attitude to the children, except for Jacob, and Aylesbury's indifference and coldness worsened the relations between the Robillard-Arden spouses. Often the Duke of Aylesbury blamed himself that he had ruined Georgette's life when he had married her many years ago. He perceived their marriage only as a business arrangement - the new name for him in exchange for two things for the Ardens. The Ardens needed the Robillards and that marriage to proceed in order to have money to redeem the debt of the Ardens and to save them from complete shipwreck of the family name and the honor, as well as covering Georgette's shame of being pregnant by an unknown man. Aylesbury had never known whether Georgette had ever loved him – she had never told him about it and he had never asked. He suspected that in the beginning she had liked him as a man and as a lover, but he called her "my Elaine" during their intimacy, creating the ground for Georgette's amorous pleasurable carnivals with other men.

The Duke of Aylesbury knew that he had been partly guilty for their unhappiness and torment. He had never loved his wife and had always admitted that he should have treated her better and, probably, warmer, not as a polite stranger, but he couldn't overbear himself. Moreover, Georgette had been a wanton woman from nature and nothing could change that. In contrast to Aylesbury, Georgette had always thought that only her husband could have been blamed for the failure of their marriage. In the meantime, in reality it was a very contradictory question who was more responsible for the downfall in their private life – Philippe or Georgette.

The Duchess and the Duke of Aylesbury's matrimony was purgatory for both spouses. Aylesbury wished there was a way to ease his conscience, but there was nothing he could do. Divorce was not an option for them because they couldn't allow any scandal to be blown up around their name, especially in the light of the fact that the Robillard-Ardens had recently been granted the second dukedom. There was a danger that the perception of the family by the ton of England and especially by the British Royal family would aggravate. There also was a possibility of transitional truce between the spouses, but in the view of Georgette's undisguised hatred it seemed to be impossible to be reached. Only permanent estrangement was left, like it had been for more than ten years as Georgette and Aylesbury had been living in different houses in London. There was no longer room to make amends, Aylesbury thought.

Philippe remembered his conversation with his son Jasper, which happened in Geneva five days ago. Later Jasper and Aylesbury's youngest daughter Genevieve left for Vienna, leaving Aylesbury alone in Geneva. Aylesbury had to tell Jasper about the entire situation with Silvia Dawson and to reveal the truth about his own life. He told Jasper that he had never had the Arden blood in his veins and that he had been the pure Robillard on his father's side. He also revealed to Jasper what had happened with him in New Orleans and who had caused his problems that catastrophe – his deceased Uncle Pierre Robillard. Most importantly, the Duke of Aylesbury said that Scarlett had been his illegitimate daughter with the woman whom he had being loving throughout his whole life, even after her death – his Ellen, his Elaine.

Shocked and dumbfounded, Jasper swore that he would tell nobody and implored his father never to open the truth to preserve the exterior honor of the Robillards. Indeed, why had others to pay for the old sins of several scoundrels? Philippe was delighted that Jasper had perceived the truth adequately and had been even happy that he had had one more sister. However, Jasper asked Philippe who was the father of his eldest sister _Madeleine Suzanne Robillard-Arden Boscawen, Countess of Falmouth_. Philippe didn't know because as a gentleman he had never asked Georgette, but now even he was interested in the matter.

Anaïs stretched her legs and murmured something under her breath, thus returning Philippe to reality. She opened her hazel eyes and stared at Philippe.

Anaïs's pretty face, framed by a profusion of silky deep burgundy curls, animated with a lazy smile. "Darling, good morning," she drawled in French.

Philippe looked at her. "Good morning, Anaïs," he replied, also in French.

"The night was magnificent," she murmured.

Philippe smiled brightly. "Yes, it was."

Anaïs sighed, her eyes sparkling in happiness. "Oh, Philippe…"

Anaïs was one of the few mistresses whom Philippe allowed to call himself by the first name – Philippe. He had always been reserved and very formal, even with the women in the privacy of his bedchamber. He could be passionate in bed, but never too personal with his lovers.

"A long time has passed since I saw such a celestial smile on your beautiful face, darling," Philippe said softly.

Philippe glared at Anaïs. She was indeed a lovely woman. Anaïs didn't possess the perfect, classical beauty of a mythological Goodness. Her attractiveness was a combination of her womanhood and her conspicuous, eye-catching appearance. She had long, natural dark burgundy hair and expressive, oval-shaped, hazel eyes. Her mouth was full and sweetly formed, a little curved upward at the corners. The unusual color of her hair made Anaïs look very vivid and attractive. Her body was perfectly boned, and she had the womanly curves: she had long legs, full breasts, and perfectly shaped hips. Despite having seven children, Anaïs's body was as slender as it had been when she had got married to middle-aged _Baron Henri de La Chardonnière_ who died in 1864.

Besides, there was colossal energy about her vitality, which attracted men to her. There always was sense of light and merriment around Anaïs. Her vivid, beautiful appearance attracted men to her, and at the first glance it was evident that she loved men and their attention. There was nothing innocent in her. As she paid much attention to the opposite sex, most men returned the compliment, but her preferences lied among the specific layer – the Dukes, and Philippe was a perfect lover for her. She even felt that she was honored that Philippe had made her his mistress. Anaïs was indeed a wanton woman, a pleasure-seeker by nature. At times, Philippe asked himself whether Anaïs was like Georgette, with only one distinction – they were not married and simply used each other.

Anaïs kissed his neck. "This is because I am with you here, darling."

"I hope you are not depressed that Roger broke your relations."

"I am a little depressed."

"Darling, I thought that the gifts I made you yesterday raised your mood."

"Philippe, you always know what to say and how to drag me out of my misery."

"What misery, Anaïs? Are you again having problems with money?" Philippe paused and looked at her suspiciously. "I don't believe that Roger didn't pay to you when he broke your relations. In addition, I am sure that he will continue paying all the expenses related to all your illegitimate children, even if they are not his."

"Philippe, they are my children, even if they are illegitimate," Anaïs muttered.

Philippe placed a kiss on the top of her head. "I know, darling." He smiled. "_Chérie, _did Roger give you enough money in the past days?"

"Yes."

"If you need something, let me know. I can give money to you."

Then unexpected happened. "Philippe, I would love to have a child with you," Anaïs whispered in his lips. She didn't know why she said that.

Philippe pulled back, his arms at his sides. "It is impossible," he said rigorously.

Anaïs shuddered. "Philippe, why have you changed so much in an instance? Don't play a role of the dashing, important Duke with me. I know that your aristocratic background is perfect and that you are a very important person."

"Darling, I am sorry if I sounded rude."

She knit the brows for a moment. "It is fine, Philippe."

"I have many children. I don't want more," Philippe said dryly. "Anaïs, my eldest son Jasper is only four years younger than you are."

"Exactly, Philippe! Your children are no longer small. And I can give a small child to you."

"Anaïs, stop it," he warned.

"As you wish, Philippe." Anaïs clung to him and put her head on his chest. He embraced her. "Philippe, you and Jasper look like an elder brother and a younger brother."

Philippe laughed merrily. "I know."

"People might not believe you that you are a father and a son."

"Maybe yes maybe no," Philippe whispered. "You know that I married Georgette when I was very young."

"And you married such a terrible woman…"

Philippe glanced at Anaïs, who happened to look at him at the same time. What could he say in response? "Please don't say this, Anaïs," he implored. He wanted to tell her that she wasn't better than Georgette was, but altered his mind.

"Agreed, darling." Anaïs kissed the skin on his chest.

"Thank you, Anaïs."

"Philippe…" she called him. "Philippe…"

Philippe kissed her on her forehead. "I am here, Anaïs."

Anaïs raised her head from his chest and looked up at him. "Your wife is a silly baggage."

Philippe's black eyes were dancing with imps. "You think so, don't you?"

"Georgette is a silly goose that she has always betrayed you with many other men, even with your valet. You are so generous, so caring, and so high-minded."

Philippe laughed sprightly. "My dear Anaïs, I can assure you that many people won't agree with you." He flicked a careless finger down her cheek. "But you are right that my marriage to Georgette is utterly miserable. It is not a simple convenient marriage, but a pure imitation of a marriage when everybody lives their own lives. It is purgatory."

"But you are always so attentive to me. Roger and you and Ian have always been the best among my men."

"Thank you for your high estimations, _chérie."_

Anaïs reached for Philippe's hand. "_Mon amour_, you are such a marvelous lover. You have always made my nights so passionate and so enjoyable."

Philippe laughed. "We can repeat this experience."

"With a great pleasure," Anaïs nearly sung and reached for him.

Philippe didn't notice how Anaïs's arms twined around his neck. One of his arms circled her waist, the other one - her shoulders, and they came together in a close embrace. Anaïs's soft, warm, shapely body arched in along the length of his. He teased her tongue with his own and pressed her closer to him. She sucked his tongue deeper. It was a lengthy, heated embrace and a long, passionate kiss. However, it was all about physical pleasure, at least for Philippe.

Philippe framed Anaïs's face with his hands. Now he wanted her. "I want you, Anaïs."

"I have always wanted you, Philippe," she responded.

"It has been my most greatly cherished wish this past hour to take you," Philippe murmured.

Philippe needed to forget about his problems. He ran his thumbs over Anaïs's eyebrows. Her hazel eyes were wide and bright. He kissed her in her lovely mouth, with soft, smooth lips. Their mouths met and clung with increasing desire and ardor. He ran his fingers through her glossy, dark burgundy hair. Philippe moved his hands down over her shoulders and behind her, and Anaïs shivered under his hands. She kissed him back. He deepened the kiss. Then they opened for themselves the doors to physical pleasure.

Anaïs and Philippe were lying on the bed, their limbs wrapped after a dance of physical love. Philippe realized that time to ask the question which he wanted to ask for so much time finally came. He needed to know the truth about the fathers of all of her illegitimate children. He was going to do everything possible to know the truth. He hoped that it wasn't Rhett Butler. And he didn't care if it had been Ross Butler, whom Philippe still didn't imagine touring Europe.

He raised his head and glared at her. "Darling, tell me who are the fathers of your four illegitimate children." His left hand came somewhat more gently to her right arm.

With a sickening lurch in her heart, Anaïs looked up at him. "Roger is the father of my two boys," she confessed. She put her hands to his palms.

"I knew that. They are too similar to Roger in their appearance." Philippe raised their clasped hands to his lips and kissed hers. "Anaïs, tell me the truth."

"What, Philippe?"

"Who is the father of your daughter and another son? I know that it is not Roger."

"Why are you interested?"

Philippe decided to try to hook her from another angle. "Anaïs, please just tell me whether that American, Rhett Butler, is one of them. Or is that Ross Butler with whom you had one night of passion in the garden. I remember everything you told me."

"Are you asking because of the fact that Rhett Butler is Scarlett's former husband and because they can reconcile now?"

"Yes."

Anaïs sighed. She didn't know what to answer. There was an appalled, rather embarrassed silence. Then she looked warily at him and decided to tell the truth. "I don't know who my daughter's farther is. Another boy is the son of another man, neither Ross Butler nor Rhett Butler."

"Who is his father?" Philippe insisted.

"Philippe, it is a very delicate, even queasy question."

Philippe kissed her palm. "Tell me the truth, darling. Have I ever deceived you? Have I ever hurt you?"

Sadness imparted into the hazel eyes. "Yes."

"When was I so bad, _chérie_?" Philippe's voice was very tender.

"You hurt me when you left me four years ago. And you paid me so much money, as though I was a prostitute. I felt offended."

Philippe kissed her palm. "I am sorry, _chérie__."_

"Oh, Philippe…"

"Darling, tell me who is the father of your son?"

At that moment Anaïs hated Philippe with all her heart and with a passion. It was an alarming thought. She would have far preferred to be indifferent to him, but she couldn't – he attracted her so much as she had fallen for him many years ago, but she never told him about that. She could have even fancied herself in love with him. He was not only a generous man who treated her better than many other her lovers. She felt unexplainable tenderness and affection to him. She didn't want to lose Philippe now when she finally became his mistress again. She was even ready to tell the truth to him. It was her mystery, and she didn't want to reveal it, but it appeared that she had to do that.

Anaïs bit her lower lip. "Promise me that you will never tell somebody else."

"I swear," he murmured.

Anaïs inhaled and shut her eyes. "Mathieu," she whispered.

Philippe felt his heart missed a beat. He looked up at her, startled and abashed. "Do you mean Scarlett's late husband and my friend, _Mathieu Paul Louis de Harlay de Champvallon, 13th Marquis de Bréval_?"

"Yes." She nodded. "I mean my first cousin Mathieu."

Philippe's heart was pattering in his chest. He felt decidedly breathless. "Are you joking?"

Anaïs shook her head. "No, I am not."

Philippe swallowed hard. Uneasiness and disbelief nearly choked him, and that feeling increased a hundredfold as he looked down at her serious face. He momentarily failed to understand how Mathieu could be the father of Anaïs's son. "You and Mathieu were lovers when he was married to Antoinette?" he forced himself to ask.

"Yes, Philippe."

He didn't know what to say. He was keeping silent. Silence between them was now an uncomfortable thing. And then it began to be a curious silence.

"I didn't expect that from Mathieu. I thought that he had loved Antoinette," Philippe said. "Mathieu's wife _Antoinette Elisabeth Françoise de Morlhon d'Asprières, Marquise de Bréval_, was an epitome of the best features of the French aristocracy. She was such a well-mannered, gentle, truthful, tender, and wise woman. Antoinette was a lady of blood, with as many airs and graces as few people can have and imagine having."

Anaïs stared at him, irritated and affronted, as she had never been a great lady and an embodiment of the best noble features. She was the dark side of aristocracy, a minx and a hetaera, a Cyprian, a scarlet woman, a courtesan with a title and born in the decent noble family – the Harlays.

She closed her eyes. "Mathieu had never loved me. He had always loved only his wife Antoinette from the bottom of his heart. Later he had fallen in mad love with Scarlett. He was ready to do everything for Scarlett," Anaïs declared. "He didn't seduce me - I seduced him. I had been trying to take him in my bed for many years, and finally he gave in. It happened in the middle of 1866, just before Antoinette's death. Antoinette was carrying their last child, another one after a great sequence of several miscarriages and three stillborn children and after having only one healthy child - Charles. Mathieu and I had a very short romance."

A spasm of pain crossed Philippe's face, and the only thing he could do was to look away. "Those miscarriages and stillborn children had been gradually deteriorating Antoinette's health. She was desperately trying to have another healthy child, despite the fact that they had Charles." Philippe paused. He was shocked. "I just don't understand how Mathieu could be with you when his wife, his great wife, had been carrying his child. It appears that I didn't know my own friend."

"Philippe! Philippe! I seduced him! Mathieu never loved me! Don't blame him, please."

Philippe was stunned. He had always thought that Mathieu had been only white and fluffy. "Did Mathieu know that he had a son with you?"

"Mathieu knew. The boy's name is _Gabriel Victurnien Frédéric de Harlay_."

"I hope Antoinette didn't know about your amourette."

"Philippe, she had never known."

He sighed. "Thanks God that she had never known." He gave a rub to his temples. "Well then, Anaïs, it is rather unexpected for me."

Anaïs traced her index figure along his jaw line. "I understand."

"Do your brothers, Frédéric and Barthélémy, know about this fact?"

"Yes, they do know. We agreed to keep this secret among us."

"Now I understand why you were so outraged when Mathieu willed everything to his legitimate son Charles and to Scarlett. Now I comprehend why Mathieu was so enraged when you became my mistress."

"You are right. Philippe, please never tell to somebody else. We have been keeping this secret within the family – the Harlays and the Harlay-Champvallons."

Philippe looked down at her. "I have already pledged to tell nobody."

"I believe you."

"After young Charles's death, the title of _Marquis de Bréval_, is now held by Frédéric and will be inherited by his son," Philippe speculated.

Anaïs nodded. "Unfortunately, it is so. Even the courtesy title of _Baron de Montglat_ is held by Frédéric's son and the heir apparent."

Philippe felt a lump in his throat, and he swallowed again. He felt pity to Anaïs, even if she was a wicked creature. Mathieu didn't claim his own son even after the death of his beloved wife Antoinette. In a sudden burst of affection, Philippe put his arm around Anaïs. "And now we can do nothing about the matter because Mathieu is dead. The title will continue to belong to Frédéric and his offspring," he verbalized his thoughts.

"It appears so."

"Anaïs, did Mathieu give any money to you?"

"Mathieu had always paid for his son Gabriel, but we never revealed the truth to the boy or to everybody else. Mathieu said many times that he didn't need the child with me. He had met Gabriel only twice in his life," Anaïs enlightened.

Mathieu didn't want even to see his own child! Philippe felt as though he had been thrown cold water on him. He didn't understand such behavior. At first he thought that Anaïs was joking, but there was nothing in her expression suggesting she was being sarcastic or mocking him. It wasn't a bad joke – it was the terrible truth. Philippe had never known Mathieu from that side.

"Mathieu didn't want to see his own child?" Philippe asked.

"Yes."

Philippe looked confused. "I cannot believe what I am hearing now."

"Don't be so confused, my darling," Anaïs purred.

Philippe blinked. "I am sorry. I am just amazed in negative sense."

Anaïs kissed him shortly. "Mathieu didn't will to me something because he transferred much money to Frédéric's account and asked him to use this money for our son."

Philippe laughed again, but it was a bitter laugh. "Mathieu did a correct thing. Otherwise you would spend everything on clothes." Then he stared at her. "Anaïs, you don't know who is the father of your daughter, do you?"

She shook her head. "No," she said sincerely.

"What are any possible options?"

Anaïs gave a sidelong glance to Philippe. "You mean can he be either Rhett Butler or Ross Butler?"

"Precisely."

"I spent with Ross Butler only one night in October 1867 in Paris. In October 1867, I also met Rhett Butler in his bedchamber when he came to Paris. I also was intimate with Ian and _Napoleon III_ himself," Anaïs confessed and shut her eyes.

Philippe was startled. He didn't know what to think. Anaïs was very wicked – she was a pure wanton woman. "I hope you mean my friend _Ian Colin Murray, 9th Duke of Lauderdale_," he replied with an effort. A touch of sardonic amusement colored his voice.

"Philippe! Please don't make your hints!" Anaïs cried out, her cheeks flushing.

He moved his hand to her and tenderly gripped her wrists. "There were no hints, just a statement of the fact. I am sorry if it sounded rude." Then he cast an inexorable gaze at her. "You must remember that if you ever betray me with another man, Anaïs, you will know me from another side. It is enough that you had slept with many of my friends, including Mathieu, Roger, and Ian and, of course, excluding Julian. It is enough that you had been with the Butlers and it doesn't matter by chance or with intention it happened. I won't tolerate infidelity."

Anaïs stared at him with challenge and condemnation. "Philippe, had I never been unfaithful to you when I we had been together for several years before you broke our relations in 1872? I even didn't have any children starting from the moment when we became intimate for the first time in October 1868, in several months after my last daughter Clarisse was born."

"I am sorry, Anaïs. I know that you had never betrayed me with other men, even with Roger. I just wanted to focus on the aspect of fidelity," he said in a softer voice.

"And you, Philippe? Will you leave all you other mistresses now?"

Philippe laughed and kissed her right temple. "I think that you are not in the position of authority, darling. However, I can tell you that I was intending to break my relations with a Parisian actress Denise. I am not going to have another woman, unless you and I are on good terms."

"Thank you, Philippe." Anaïs managed a smile. The hazel eyes tender and more penetrating, she hugged him. "Philippe, September 1867 and October 1867 were disastrous. I don't remember when else we had so many parties at the Imperial court and other private parties. During one of those private parties I met Ross Butler, and we really overindulged with alcohol when we had been together in the garden of that mansion. And between August 1867 and December 1867 I also was _Napoleon III's _mistress. And there also was our extravagant _Ian Colin Murray, 9th Duke of Lauderdale_, who was my very good friend and old lover. Ian had just returned from British India and said that that had been his permanent move to Europe." She trailed off.

"It was true because at that time Ian had become a special ambassador in Italy and France instead of British India," Philippe clarified.

"Ian and I haven't seen each other for years because he had being living in Calcutta, with you and Effingham. Well, you know about Ian." She sighed, her beseeching eyes staring at him. She swallowed her sobs. "Philippe, I was a fool. I know."

Philippe hugged her. He didn't want her to cry. He had always been gentle with women he had been sleeping with, even if he hadn't developed any emotional bond. He felt a great pity to Anaïs and even sympathy. "Anaïs, darling, please calm down. I promise I will never tell about this to somebody else."

Her eyes half shut, she smiled with a slow, sweet smile but shook her head resignedly. "Thank you, Philippe."

"You must show me the girl."

"You mean my daughter Clarisse?"

"Apparently," Philippe answered. He was delighted that she wasn't crying. "What is her full name?"

"_Clarisse Marguerite Eugénie de Harlay_."

A faintly sly grin flitted across Philippe's face. "At least your children still have the _de Harlay_ surname."

"It is so only thanks to Frédéric," Anaïs notified him.

"I don't understand why Mathieu didn't claim the boy. Antoinette had already died. Scarlett would understand everything, and I know that for sure."

A rich chuckle escaped Anaïs. "Philippe, Mathieu didn't want to claim Gabriel."

"I don't understand this," Philippe said in a confident voice.

Anaïs smiled languidly. "He had his favorite – his son Charles. You have always considered Mathieu to be an aristocrat through and through, so gentle and so soft. However, in reality he was much different from that perfect image. How could he spoil his own reputation as an honorable man?"

"Probably, you are right. Mathieu's reputation has always been without any dark shadows, even despite his two mistresses he had between Antoinette's death and his marriage to Scarlett." Philippe sighed.

"Frédéric knows something very strange and shadowy about Mathieu, but he has always kept silent. He and Mathieu had a secret," Anaïs professed.

Philippe was astonished. "What secret?"

"I don't know. But I know that Frédéric and Mathieu have something bad to hide. Again, I made this abstract conclusion on the back of my observation."

"I think you are exaggerating." Philippe needed time to think about what he had learnt. However, he was alarmed because he had always known about Anaïs's great observational skills.

"Maybe," she said with skepticism.

"Anaïs, I may assure you that if Ian is Clarisse's father, he will claim her. Ian is a womanizer and a notorious rake, much worse than I am, but he is still a very honorable man in such aspects, and he doesn't care for scandals." Then he stared at her for an instance with an intensive haze, and he then looked away. "Anaïs, you must talk to Ian. Does he know?"

"Ian doesn't know. I couldn't tell him because I don't know by myself who is her father!" Anaïs supplied in a high voice.

Philippe glared down at her and took her hands in his. "Anaïs, you must promise me one thing."

"What, Philippe?"

"You must never tell Scarlett that you and Rhett Butler had been lovers for many years as he visited Paris during the blockade running times and later," Philippe said.

"I won't do this. I promise."

"Please swear, Anaïs."

Anaïs crossed herself. "I swear," she pledged.

Philippe glanced at her with a scrupulous gaze. "Well, thank you." Then his gaze turned more intensive. "When have you been intimate with Rhett Butler?"

"I was with Rhett Butler in October 1867, but I also was with others," she confessed.

He frowned. "Anaïs, when were you intimate with Rhett Butler? Was it in the beginning or in the middle or in the end of October 1867?"

"Philippe, I don't remember!"

"Please try to remember. It is very important."

"I think… I don't know!" she said half consciously. "Most likely, I was in Rhett Butler's bedroom in the beginning of October 1867 when he came to Paris from London."

"When did you meet Ross Butler?"

"In the middle of October 1867," she said.

Philippe stared at her. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I met Ross in the middle of October 1867. My daughter Clarisse, my last child, was born on July 20, 1868."

Philippe sighed. "I have to look at the girl. Maybe, she has some features of the Butlers," he responded. "If it is Rhett Butler's child, then she was born a little later than nine months. It is unlikely that he is her father." A sign of relief followed, but he still wasn't sure.

"It appears so, Philippe."

"Damn, Anaïs! Damn!" he cursed. "I hope the girl's father is Ross Butler or Ian or _Napoleon III_."

"It is unlikely to be Rhett Butler."

"Are you sure that that man in the garden was Ross Butler?"

"I am absolutely sure. He was very drunk and among his rumblings he mentioned that he had been the brother of a dashing blockade runner from the Old South - Rhett Butler. Ross said that he had despised and hated Rhett. He said that his name was Ross Butler," Anaïs stated. "I am sure, darling."

Philippe laughed. "I think Ross Butler simply envied Rhett Butler."

Anaïs shrugged. "I don't know."

A grim smile flashed across Philippe's chiseled features. "Anaïs, we must keep silent about this situation. Neither Scarlett nor anybody from the Robillards must know." He paused to clear his throat. "You should never worry about the money. I will pay for everything, even if Roger stops paying for all of your illegitimate children, including for his own ones."

"Philippe, I know that the likelihood is low, but… what would you have done, if Rhett Butler had been my daughter's father?"

Philippe sighed tiredly. "Then we would have kept silent. Alternatively, I could say that she is my daughter."

Anaïs's hazel eyes grew wider and wider. "But Philippe… Philippe…"

"What, Anaïs?"

"Why do you need this? Do you care for Scarlett so much?"

"I am caring for everything connected with the Robillards," Philippe explained.

She narrowed her eyes. "And is there nothing more private?"

"Nothing, _chérie_," he assured.

Anaïs gave a long, thoughtful gaze to him. "Philippe, why did you marry Georgette?"

Philippe raised his eyebrows. "I married her because she was pregnant by me. I did my duty."

Anaïs laughed at him. "Don't lie to me."

"Why do you think so?"

"It is because your eldest daughter Madeleine's appearance has common traits neither with the Robillards nor with the Ardens. I would say that she has much in common with Italians."

Philippe's face depicted feigned innocence. "Really?"

"Philippe, I told you the truth. You know my secret now. I know that you won't betray me."

"You are right – I won't betray you."

"I know." She smiled. "Philippe, I am not a fool. I have my eyes, and I see that Madeleine is unlikely to be your daughter. You can fool the ton of England, but not me. I know you much better than others." It was truth because Anaïs and Philippe had always been friends, even before she became his mistress. "I have always thought that Madeleine is not your daughter and that Georgette had deceived you when you had married her."

His brows lowered, and he was silent a moment before replying. "Anaïs, I have been through hell on my account in this marriage. And now you are dying to know the truth." He found her question to be hilarious. "As you opened the truth to me, I will also share the secret with you. Georgette didn't deceive me – I knew that it wasn't my child."

"Why did you marry her? You ruined your own life!" she exclaimed in horror.

Philippe took her hand in his. "I had to marry Georgette." He lightly kissed the back of her hand and looked into her eyes. "I married Georgette because my father _Richard Russell Arden_, and his elder brother _Jordan Theodore Arden, 7th Duke of Aylesbury_, pressed me to marry her and to pay the Ardens' debt and save family from disgrace caused by Georgette. Georgette was beautiful and I wanted her badly, so that I married her. I was young and inexperienced, and I couldn't have imagined even in my wildest dreams that our marriage would be worse than any destructive tornado." He half shrugged. He lied, but what else could he do?

"Philippe, you are so kind! You saved her, while she paid you back with so many scandals!"

Philippe shut his eyes for an instance. "Both Georgette and I are responsible for the complete failure of our miserable marriage." He opened his eyes, and his lips twitched slightly. "I even don't know who Madeleine's father is. For me she is my daughter as I raised her."

"I think Georgette had an Italian lover. I just hope that he was an aristocrat."

"Anaïs, you must also keep this in secret."

Anaïs winked at him. "Philippe, I will never betray you. It is a bargain – we know the small secrets of each other."

Philippe smiled. "A bargain," he said shortly.

Anaïs looked seriously at Philippe. "Philippe, I realized a long time ago that you had probably had a tragic love in the past. I am sure that you still love that woman."

Philippe interrupted her. He averted his gaze. "Anaïs, I don't want to talk about that."

After a momentary silence, Anaïs sighed. "Philippe, I am not asking you to tell me what exactly had happened." As she paused, he turned to face her. She smiled at him. She went on. "Everybody has his or her past, but that is the past. You are living in the present, and you should cherish it. What was in the past, let it stay in the past. If you have bad and tragic memories, would it not be even better to leave them in the past and unsaid? Try to forget and think more about pleasant things from the present."

Philippe blinked, his heart raced. Somehow he understood Anaïs's message. But it was too difficult for him. He said nothing and nodded silently. There were no other words he needed to say on this matter.

Philippe continued to relax and was thinking about different things at that moment. Philippe kissed her in increasing ardor. Anaïs murmured something. He kissed her again, trailing his lips down her neck and onto her shoulders and her breasts. Anaïs pressed herself deeper into his arms, and Philippe embraced her tighter and moved his lips up to her face. He kissed her with lingering gentleness and huge physical desire, his lips worshiping her lips and her skin. Anaïs moaned as he kissed her miniature ears and as his lips traveled down her neck. Soon another dizzying ecstasy embraced them.

* * *

_Act IV began. I hope you liked this chapter. _

_The most important twist here is that Mathieu has a son with Anaïs. Why it is necessary, you will realize later. Believe me, this is a must-be-done twist. Also, Anaïs's daughter is very unlikely to be Rhett's daughter – don't worry._

_If you would be very dear and tell me what you think about Anaïs, I would be very grateful. __I am also interested in what you think about Philippe's wife Georgette._

_Your reviews are always appreciated. I am happy to know what you like and what you don't like. You reviews are helping me to make this story better._


	77. Chapter 77

**Chapter 77**

**Mysteries of Charleston: Silvia Dawson and her lover**

It was a late night of August 1876 in Charleston. The gentleman was lying on the old wooden bed. He was still dressed. His long legs were stretched on the bed, his hands crossed on his chest. Although physically he was in his old antebellum house with lob-sided classical columns, in his thoughts he was traveling back to the time when his lover _Silvia Ferdinanda Albertson Dawson_ had been alive. Only several months passed since the moment when she had presumably killed herself in the Grace Episcopal Church. But for him it was as though it had happened yesterday. Each day was a new mental torment for him. He missed his lover Silvia very much. It was difficult for him to endure complete loneliness.

The man had always been suffering that Silvia had got married to _John Jeremiah Dawson_, an old rich Yankee who had loved her dearly and whom she had hated. The man knew that she had had to marry him in order to save her family from living in the streets of Charleston because the Albertson family hadn't had any money and had had nothing to pay high taxes on property.

They got acquainted after Silvia's wedding. He couldn't have helped her financially even before the wedding because he hadn't had enough money. He and Silvia met each other during one night in the autumn of 1865. At that time, she was very young and he was rather young. He met her near his old ramshackle plantation house: she was picking up the leaves of _datura stramonium_, known by the common name as _jimson weed_.

At that night, when the man caught her, they had some time to talk. Later he forgot about her, but it was fate that brought them together again. In half a year after that night, he met her again near his old house and again collecting herbs and afresh in the nighttime. That time the man detained her and didn't let her go away without any explanations. He knew her name because he had managed to remember her from several tea parties in Charleston which he had attended when his wife Marianne had been alive and he had played a role of a proper gentleman of Charleston. But it had been a long time ago, seemingly an eternity. He had lived in Charleston before he succumbed to alcohol in the aftermath of his wife's death.

The man smiled to himself. He recalled how he had kissed Silvia for the first time. It was a dark night of April 1866. She was cloaked in the black mantle and in the large-brimmed black hat with hardly transparent veil. As the man saw her picking up those herbs, he sneaked up behind and scooped her in his arms. He turned her around to face her and pressed her to his chest. The answer was a loud scream.

"What are you doing? You are a bastard!" Silvia screamed at a top of her lungs.

"What are you doing near my house, my lady?" the man asked in a drawling, low-pitched, arid voice.

"Put me on the ground! You are a bastard!" Silvia cried out in indignation. "You have no right to press me so tightly. It is not proper."

The man laughed at her. "And is it proper to call me a bastard? Is it proper to come alone at three in the morning and to pick up unknown herbs?"

She pulled back and made an attempt to escape from his embrace. "It is not your deal!"

The man only gripped her forearms. He removed her hat and threw it on the ground. "Darling, you are on my territory. I am living here and this land is owned by my family."

"I am sorry that I had to come here," she said. "I am leaving."

He didn't release her. "What I fail to understand is how you got here in the night."

"I often come here. I need to come here," she muttered in a hoarse voice.

"Why are you coming here, my lady? What is the herb that you were picking up here?"

"I am interested in herbal medicine. I need this herb." She looked down on the ground where her bag with precious _datura stramonium _or _jimson weed_ was waiting for her.

The man chuckled lewdly. "It is an interesting story. How is this herb called?"

"It doesn't matter. I don't think that it is a gathering of intellectuals here."

The man tipped back his head and grinned at Silvia upside-down. "We can make a gathering of another kind."

As they were standing and looking into each other's eyes, it seemed as though the air between them and all about them was fairly sizzled.

Silvia drew a sharp, almost hissing breath. "I am sorry for disturbing you," she murmured. "I will leave right now."

"You are not leaving, Mrs Dawson."

Silvia's hazel eyes went wide. "You know my name, don't you?"

He smirked. "Naturally, Mrs Dawson."

"I thought that you only live here, like an anchoret," she snapped. Her hazel eyes were wide open.

He stared at her. Moonlight helped him distinguish her pale face. "After my wife died, I had been drinking heavily, but I am still alive. Mrs Dawson, you are right that I prefer to live here, not in Charleston. I hate the Yankees in their blue uniform. I hate them from the bottom of my heart."

Her eyebrows arched upward in surprise that he had mentioned those facts of his biography, but then she laughed softly. "I also hate the Yankees," she said, not knowing what else she could say.

"And do you know my name?" the man smirked.

"Yes, I do," she acknowledged. "I am very sorry for breaching the borders of your lands. I will leave and never come again."

"Wait, my lady. Please wait." He continued squeezing her forearms.

Silvia looked fearful. "You are drunk! It is correct what people in Charleston are saying that you are a full-fledged alcoholic."

"Mrs Dawson, you are an audacious creature," the man sneered.

"I am not a creature!" Silvia yammered in rage. "I am not a creature!"

"An audacious creature," he repeated and smiled at her.

"You are a drunken fool!" Her outburst continued. She tried to release her hands from his grasp, but in vain. "Get away from me! Get away from here, idiot!"

The man grinned at her. The expression of his face was mocking. "Oh, my dear Mrs Dawtson, how proper you are in reality!"

Silvia was steamed-up. She released her right hand and slapped the man across his malapert face. "You have no right to insult me! You better go and sleep after the consumption of another bottle of whiskey!"

The man rubbed his cheek and burst into an obscenely clamorous laugh. "My darling, I want to drink another bottle only with you."

And then the man embraced her about her shoulders and kissed her. She was struggling, but then her body was going limp in his hands as he was kissing her. He didn't have a woman for more than three months because he didn't want to come back to Charleston, which was patrolled by the Yankees in their blue uniform. He hated new, post-bellum Charleston. Now he had a woman's body close to him and hence he kissed her as physical need filled him.

Silvia disentangled from him and slapped him across his impudent face. "You are a bastard! You are a black sheep in your family!"

"I am not the only black sheep in my family," he remarked in a low-pitched voice.

"Release me," she demanded.

The man chuckled again. "I know that your old husband cannot give pleasure in the bed to you. And I can do that. Besides, I need a woman in order not to come to _Grace Piexotto's_ "_Big Brick House" _on Beresford Street."

Silvia looked abashed. "What do you want?"

The man was very impudent. "I need you as a woman."

"Never! Never! I would never do that!" she cried out in outrage. Then she slapped him again.

"I wouldn't say so," he pointed out. "If you don't agree, then I will tell the whole Charleston where you regularly come to muster up the herbs," he threatened.

"You are a scoundrel," she said quietly, in a steadier voice.

"I am offering you a bargain. If you don't agree, then I will tell the whole Charleston about your night escapades and will ruin your reputation. I will also meet your husband and tell him the truth." The man laughed half lasciviously, half tauntingly. "You will like it. I am a good lover."

Silvia inhaled and exhaled. She had been cornered. "I have to agree. I have no other option." Her voice turned waspish, her eyes were sparkling in rage.

The man laughed vociferously and theatrically clapped his hands. "You are a temerarious woman, my darling. You are a nonconformist." He traced the line of her jaw with his index figure.

Starting from that moment, Silvia began visiting the man at his lonely plantation house. The more they met, the more they were talking. Soon they grew to have a sort of friendship because both of them felt lonely: she complained on her old, always grumbling husband, while he was completely alone after the death of his wife Marianne. His family didn't understand him, and he had stopped trying to have good relations with them. Silvia and the man felt that they were helping each other. They also had many nights of intimacy. Silvia was really attracted to the man, and she was forced to admit that to herself on not-so-few occasions. She felt a dreadful curiosity to know what it would be like to go to bed with him, and their intimate relationship was continuing despite her marriage vows. However, Silvia didn't seem to enjoy intimacy as much as her lover did. At times, she liked it, while at times she found it disgusting. In Silvia's case everything depended upon her mood.

Soon Silvia asked the man whether he had wished to earn much money. The man desperately needed it, in the first place because he had intended to prove to his family that he had been worth something. However, later he realized that he would never be able to show to the outside world what a great fortune he had gained. Nobody would ever believe him that his money had been earned in the honest operations. His family would have been very suspicious if they had known how rich the man had become. Silvia's lover was disappointed, but he could do nothing about that.

Silvia was involved in rather strange activities, and she needed a person to help her work on various papers in Italian, French, and English and to create complicated cipher messages. The man agreed and quickly realized that Silvia had been a secret government agent of the Italian Foreign Office under the codified nickname _Agrippina_. Silvia took that nickname in the honor of _Agrippina the Younger_ from the times of ancient Rome. _Agrippina the Younger_ was a ruthless, ambitious, violent and oppressive woman who killed her husband _Emperor Claudius_ in order to make her son _Nero_ the Roman Emperor. It was also known that _Agrippina the Younger _had killed_ Emperor_ Claudius's son with _Valeria Messalina _– young _Britannicus. _Silvia had always been fascinated with _Emperor Nero_ and his many transgressions, including the Great Fire of Rome in 64 AD, which was caused by the Emperor and nearly destroyed the whole city. Silvia knew by heart everything about _Agrippina_ and her son_ Nero_ who ruled from 54 to 68 AD and was the last Emperor in the Julio-Claudian dynasty of the Roman Emperors.

Helping Silvia, the man had his own nickname - _Tigellinus_, who was a real historical character, being one of _Agrippina the Younger's_ lovers and later prefect of the guard under _Emperor Nero_. Silvia chose the spy's nickname for her lover on her own.

Over time, the man – Tigellinus - also learnt about her Italian roots through her mother Ornella Simona Albertson. He learnt that Silvia was an expert in the art of poisoning and in alchemy. He realized why she had been collecting those herbs near his house. However, at first he didn't know why she had been collecting the herbs in gigantic quantities. Silvia's wicked nature was unknown for Tigellinus for a long time.

Tigellinus didn't care that he had become involved in the espionage against the United States. He didn't care because Silvia paid him a lot of money for his job as her messenger. Besides, he didn't care because he had always hated all the Yankees with all his heart and because they had destroyed the Old South. Tigellinus supposed that he didn't betray his motherland because his country was destroyed by the damned Yankees who also took the fortune of his family, mainly his father's fortune. The man inferred that he could earn money by helping Silvia selling various pieces of secret information to the Italian government.

Over time the man or Tigellinus even grew to love the espionage job because he felt that he had been a courageous man who wasn't afraid of danger. Tigellinus's activities of a spy filled his heart with adrenaline, which he didn't have in his usual everyday life, and he liked that. Earlier, only alcohol gave him adrenaline and oblivion – now espionage and Silvia supplied him with energy.

Silvia or Agrippina had been working for the Italian government since 1861 and for the French government since the late 1862. She was a double agent. She was very greedy and wanted to earn as much money as she could. In fact, somehow she had been contacted by the unknown French spy with the codified nickname _Eridanus_, who was known to be one of the most proficient and the cruelest French spies. Eridanus offered Silvia to work for the French Foreign office and promised tremendous compensation, and Eridanus didn't deceive her. Being very greedy from nature, Silvia agreed only in order to receive so much money for her job.

Much later, in 1868, another professional French agent nicknamed _Clovis_ joined Silvia and Eridanus. The man or Tigellinus knew that Clovis and Eridanus had worked together. The man also knew that Clovis was the cruelest French spy who had left only dead bodies on his or her way. Clovis was like a shadow, and nobody had ever seen even his or her face. Clovis was an absolute shadow. Therefore, Silvia started maneuvering between spying for those French spies Eridanus and Clovis and for the Italian government. In Italian Foreign Office, Silvia mostly worked with the agent _Maximinus Thrax,_ also nicknamed in the honor of one of the cruelest and the most dissolute Roman Emperors.

The man and Silvia, Tigellinus and his lover Agrippina, always met in the nighttime in the shabby house on Sullivan's Island where they usually sailed by taking a boat. At half past midnight the man was waiting for Silvia in the desolate quay, the boat was ready. As they met, they sailed to their shelter and the place where they had created so many cipher messages for Eridanus and Clovis, their French clients, and for Maximinus Thrax, their Italian client. Tigellinus and Agrippina also made love to each other at that house, which was usually initiated by the man.

The man asked Silvia to give him some poisons in order to start taking them in little doses and soon become immune to those poisons. Silvia gave the Medici's black and blue cooper sulphate to the man. She even explained how some components, like _atropa belladonna_ and _datura stramonium_, were used in order to prepare the poisonous mixture. Silvia didn't have the Borgia's _Cantarella_ in its pure view, and hence she couldn't give it to her lover. However, the man was also very interested in the English aconite-based poison "_invisible mors_" or "_invisible death_," a secret poison which was used only by the British spies to kill themselves in the case of the captivation.

One night in the autumn of 1870, the man discovered an unknown, unconscious man in Silvia's bed in their shabby house on Sullivan's Island. The man was dressed and was apparently disguised: he was wearing large glasses, false hair, and his face was somehow changed. Moreover, he was apparently heavily intoxicated by the opiates given to him by Silvia. Silvia said that the unconscious man had been the British spy nicknamed _Glorificemus_ whom Silvia was going to use for her villainous purposes - she said that she wanted to kill Glorificemus in order to take his aconite-based poison _"invisible mors"_ for herself.

Silvia's lover, Tigellinus, didn't want to kill that British spy: he was against killing people in general, but he egoistically wanted to have the poison _"invisible mors"_ for himself. Thus Tigellinus ransacked Glorificemus and took aconite-based _"invisible mors" _from him. As Tigellinus impounded the poison from the British agent, he disguised himself and in the night transported him to the Charleston Grand Hotel, taking a room for him there. Therefore, Silvia's lover saved British agent Glorificemus from death Silvia was preparing for him.

On that night, Tigellinus had terrible scandal with Silvia. She was fighting with her lover teeth and nails that she had to kill Glorificemus. The man could do nothing as Silvia went to Charleston Grand Hotel, driven by the dream to have _"invisible mors"_ for herself. She didn't dare that she would have to murder that British spy. However, Silvia's plans shattered into many small pieces: as she entered the spy's suite and was going to realize her plan, Glorificemus began to move. Then he opened his eyes and saw Silvia. And Silvia began to play the role: she said that they had been at the party and that Glorificemus had spent the night with her after the party. After the opiates and some other herbs, Glorificemus felt as though he had been drinking tremendously on the party where he indeed had been before he opened his eyes at the Charleston Grand Hotel.

Glorificemus didn't know what to think and only left Silvia at the Hotel. However, soon that British spy found out that he hadn't had his poison _"invisible mors"_ with him. He was shocked, but could do nothing – the poison disappeared. So he had to do only one thing – he left Charleston for England. That British spy was _Julian St John Lessard, 13th Earl of Effingham_, who had been guessing what had happened with his poison and who had been saved by his dear friend _Philippe Justin Robillard-Arden, 8th Duke of Aylesbury_, as they had imitated the case with the self-poisoning by aconite later, during their mission in Denmark, as they needed that to justify that Effingham had somehow lost his poison. Effingham didn't know what could have happened with him and that Silvia had wanted to kill him. He didn't know that her lover, agent Tigellinus, saved his life.

Later the man or Tigellinus used the poison _"invisible mors"_ with great intelligence: he didn't give it to Silvia and began to take it in very small doses every day. He wanted to become immune to aconite, and in around seven-eight months he achieved his objective.

At first, Tigellinus didn't know that Silvia had been a murderess of her own husband. John Dawson was quite old, and everybody believed that his death occurred due to natural reasons. Over time, the man realized that Silvia had killed her husband. He learnt about that in May 1876 when she confessed to him that she had killed her husband and several other people, including several government agents of various countries. She also said that if something had happened with her, the man had to leave Charleston and the Old South because either Eridanus or Clovis would easily kill him. Later, his conscience started to implore to him to come to his senses, but it was in vain. Everything was in vain – he didn't love Silvia, but was infatuated with Silvia. He couldn't leave Silvia, his dear Agrippina. Later Tigellinus learnt that Silvia had also killed several innocent people at the art event in London, but it happened only after her death in the Church.

The man stretched his long legs on the bed. His mind traveled to his lover Silvia, whom he grew to adore, despite her wicked nature, which he, of course, didn't approve. He didn't care that Silvia was plain and not strikingly beautiful. He wanted to be with her. Now he was remembering their last night together.

During their last night together, the man and Silvia arrived in their old, shabby house on Sullivan's Island. The darkness was everywhere, but the lovers didn't dare to use the candles as their eyes got accustomed to that the absence of light. They didn't talk any more after they had arrived into their shelter. They were indeed wicked Agrippina and her lover Tigellinus, her helper and her guard. The man reached for the lady with his gentle hands, yet with urgency to have her close to him. He pressed her against his muscled body, one hand catching the back of her head and another one holding her face. Gently his lips found hers, and he kissed her with an unexpected tenderness, despite inexorable desire and physical hunger swelling inside him. Then he took off her gloves, her coat, and began to unfasten the buttons of her modest gown with the high neckline and without any excessive ornamentation. Silvia started unbuttoning his shirt. The urgency they responded to each other's endearments surprised them both. The man removed her gown and unlaced her corset. Finally, she was left in her white silky chemise, stockings and her slippers. By that time the man had already removed all of his clothes, excluding his trousers.

The man pushed Silvia to the large wooden bed in the corner of the room. She obeyed and followed him. Leaving her slippers on the floor, she climbed into the bed. Soon he was lying on her, his hands traveling hungrily over her body. Awkwardly, he tore apart the front of her chemise and his lips crushed on her bare skin. Driven by instincts, she didn't object to his violent actions. Silvia could think about nothing more than his hard hands caressing her, moving so lightly up and down her spine, which was a sensual delight to the wicked lady. As they were seeking for deeper intimacy, unable to control the passion, the man removed her stockings and what was left from the chemise he had tattered from the front. He also pushed off his trousers and roughly threw them on the floor. Being completely naked, their desire exploded. The man was lying on her, his lips parting hers, his tongue seeking and finding the moist, exciting warmth within. Soon they were quickly driving to their physical release, and gasps and groans hung over the room. Each of them was kissing the other with a growing intensity, their exploring tongues filling their mouths and enflaming both of them with passion. It had happened with them several times before they were satisfied and were simply lying in each other's arms.

Silvia turned her head and looked up at her lover. "Thank you, _il mio tesoro (my darling)_."

He glared at her shadowy silhouette, his fingers caressing the surface of her belly. "Do you want more?"

She laughed at him. "Tigellinus, three times are more than enough. I can barely move my hand."

"We have two more hours," he added.

She lifted her head up and glanced right into his dark eyes. "It looks absurd at first sight," she began. "But to tell you the truth, it is one of the last nights we are spending together in the same bed."

"Didn't you like our today's night?" He smirked.

"He will give me more nights of pleasure and better than nights spent with you," she countered him in a cold voice.

The man's hand jerked away from her body. He stiffened and pulled away. Then he glanced away. "Again Rhett Butler… only him… Are you doing what you initially planned? I mean to get married to him."

Silvia clenched her teeth. "I will get married to Rhett Butler. It has always been my dream to have such a man as he is."

The man looked across at her with his sneering eyes. "_Carissima mia (my dear)_, I think you will only hurt yourself."

"I don't think so." She shook her head frantically.

"It is your life and your deals," he said stonily.

"I don't love you," she said with malice in her tone.

"And neither do I," he barked. Then he laughed. "But you don't love him. It is an utter aberration. What you love is Rhett's money and his handsomeness."

Silvia shook her head in disagreement. "Oh, I do love him."

"You don't," he said insistently.

A silence followed. The emptiness and silence made them feel uneasy. Finally the gentleman's voice spoke. "When will the Italians pay us?"

The lady was quietly singing something under her breath. "Next week, _il mio tesoro (my darling)_."

Suddenly, he reached for her and pulled her closer to him. "Did you ask me to come today because you were afraid?"

As though weighing out each word, she spoke. "I am afraid that everything is becoming much more complicated."

"What is going on?" the man questioned with anxiety. "Did one of them threaten you? Was he Maximinus Thrax_,_ our Italian client?"

Silvia tensed the muscles of her body. "No."

The man found her behavior strange. "Why are you so scared?"

She popped herself on the left elbow. "It is because that creature, Clovis, this perfect shadow, is making our life more difficult. We have one complex task to do. I will tell you now. You will have to listen to me very carefully."

"In this case I will go and find the candles," he offered.

"Great idea, darling," she said.

The man climbed out of the bed and gripped the candlestick at the bedside table. Not looking at her, he threw over his shoulder. "Have you ever seen that French creature – Clovis – or our Italians?"

"Only several Italians and I know who Maximinus Thrax is," Silvia replied.

The man lit several candles and put the candlestick back on the bedside table. "Who is he?"

Silvia narrowed her eyes. "Maximinus Thrax is one Italian Duke of royal blood. His name is Vittorio, the Duke of Naples."

He took in her image in the dim light of the burning candles and landed on the bed with her. "How do you know?"

Silvia smiled at her lover. "Darling, I have been working with Maximinus Thrax for a very long time. Vittorio is my very distant relative, because our bloodlines intersected several centuries ago. Vittorio is like me – he has a wicked heart."

"Silvia, do you know personally someone of those two French spies – either Clovis or Eridanus?"

Silvia turned her head to look at him, and their glances met and held. "As to those creatures from France, I don't know who they are in reality. I have never seen them. I have never even heard their voices. They are such secret, mysterious persons, especially Clovis. Clovis is an absolute shadow, and this agent appears when you don't know and then Clovis disappears. Clovis and Eridanus always send messages and messages – never something else. They are shadows, not people, but Clovis is the devil incarnate and a perfect shadow. Clovis is worse than Eridanus is – Clovis is crueler, even barbaric. Both Clovis and Eridanus are very experienced agents," she said.

"They have strange nicknames," the man said.

Silvia laughed, though she felt somewhat chagrined too. She wanted very much to know who Clovis and Eridanus were. "Each spy has a unique nickname and an alias, which might sound strange and might also be a part of the special codification. The British spies often use religious nicknames, like that infamous, almost intangible in Europe British agent _Agnus Dei_. The British had accepted an over-complicated system of codification in Latin in 1869, and the French and the Italians are still trying to learn it, but in vain."

"What do the aliases of Clovis and Eridanus show us?"

Silvia shook her head in uncertainty. "Their nicknames don't tell us something. Eridanus is just a constellation, which was listed by the 2nd century astronomer Ptolemy among the other forty eighty constellations. Clovis seems to be a nickname in the honor of _King Clovis I_ who was the first king of the Franks to unite all of the Frankish tribes under one ruler. _King_ _Clovis I_ was a very cruel king, like our spy Clovis himself or herself. I began to work at first with Eridanus because I helped him or her to organize French intervention in Mexico in the beginning of 1860s. Eridanus also needed me because France was interested in the civil war with the Yankees."

"I know that Clovis joined us later. What does Clovis want? I still don't understand how we can help this shadow," the man said.

"There was a rumor that Clovis's archenemy, the British agent Agnus Dei, had somehow been connected with the South of the States. So Clovis contacted me through Eridanus," Silvia explained.

The man rubbed his unshaven cheek. "But in the last seven years there were no traits of _Agnus Dei_ in the region."

"I think so. I couldn't help Clovis to find Agnus Dei, so Clovis began to terrorize me with those deals Maximinus Thrax or Vittorio had asked me to do. And I gave in and sold Vittorio's secrets. Actually, the first time when I sold Vittorio's information was in 1862 when I helped the French to organize their intervention to Mexico. Italians also wanted to send their forces to Mexico, but they finally didn't because the French were ahead of the Italians, partly thanks to me."

The man gave a sidelong glance to her. "What will Maximinus Thrax or Vittorio do if he learns about your betrayal of the Italians?"

Silvia glanced at him and smiled ominously. "Vittorio will kill us both," she said simply. "He is a blood-minded person, but not as cruel as Clovis is."

"Silvia, why are you betraying Vittorio and Italy? I have always been astonished that you are doing this. Your roots are Italian!"

Silvia laughed. "The French are paying more than the Italians do. Besides, I love taking risks."

The man sighed. At times he didn't understand her. "Are Clovis and Eridanus male or female?"

"I don't know. Eridanus can be a woman. Theoretically, even Maximinus Thrax and Eridanus can be the same person because at times Eridanus was doing strange things, helping Italians. But I am sure that Clovis is a man because he is too cruel and too barbaric. I cannot imagine that a woman can be so cruel. I have heard that Clovis had left dozens of dead bodies on his path as Clovis had been working in British India."

"Can Clovis or Eridanus murder us, if something goes wrong?" her lover asked.

Silvia sighed. "They can kill us any hour, any minute, if we fail the mission."

The man looked at her suspiciously, but said nothing. The next two hours they were talking about their deals. Espionage was a profitable job for them, but also a dangerous, nervous activity.

The man cast an aphrodisiac glance at Silvia. Then he gripped her hand. "Silvia, we will continue being lovers even if you marry that bastard Rhett Butler. Otherwise I will tell him the truth about us." He licked his lips. His voice turned lower. "If you don't agree, I will ruin our lives and tell Rhett Butler the truth. You will never walk from my bed to his bed. You and I will still have intimacy, even if you want to get married to him so much."

She looked at him with hatred. "You are a bastard! Moral moron!"

The man kissed her, fiercely and ardently. "But you liked this night. I pleased you, my wicked girl." He was kissing her neck, his lips caressing her bosom.

"You will be my lover even if you marry that… that scoundrel!" he exclaimed between kisses.

"I have no other choice," she answered in a vocal murmur. "I don't want you to ruin everything."

He kissed her again in rising ardor. "Good girl."

"_Oh mio Dio! __Mi piace quando tu mi baci con passion! __(Oh my God! I like when you are kissing me with passion!)_," Silvia moaned.

"_Mia cara, si sono appassionati oggi (My dear, you are passionate today)_," the man murmured as his lips continued exploring her body. "It is very rare when you enjoy so much."

"Oh… please continue…" Silvia groaned.

Silvia murmured something in her beloved Italian. Then she moved and the man raised his head back to her mouth. The dance of their wicked amorous alliance began with a new strength. Later, at half past five in the morning, they got dressed and left their secret, longstanding shelter on Sullivan's Island.

The man or Tigellinus put his hands at his sides as he returned back to reality from memories. He didn't leave Charleston after Silvia's death, although she strongly recommended doing it. But he was living through chaos and emotional disorder again, the same disorder he had to survive through after the death of his wife. He cursed Silvia for killing herself in the Grace Episcopal Church, as he had thought. He cursed her for leaving him alone in his alcoholic misery. The man began to drink in colossal amounts when Silvia became engaged to Rhett Butler whom he hated wholeheartedly and whom he envied. And the closer was the date of their wedding with Rhett Butler, the worse he felt and the more he was drinking. He hated and despised Rhett because he couldn't be like him. However, the man would still prefer Silvia to be alive and even married to Rhett Butler than to commit a suicide by poisoning herself on the altar of the Church, having recognized all her sins in front of the Butler family.

Suddenly, the man or Tigellinus heard a strange noise. He lifted his body from the bed and looked around. In the dim light of the room, as the candles were almost burnt out, he didn't see anything suspicious. So he leaned his body back on the bed. But the noise repeated and then again disappeared. During the nights of the last months, the man was very frightened because he knew that he had to send to Clovis and Eridanus several cipher messages and he had just done that last week. However, Tigellinus didn't know that he had failed their last mission with Eridanus and Clovis: British agent _Sacerdos magnus (Chief priest) _had tackled his message. _Sacerdos magnus _was Richard Bradshaw, which was earlier spoken about by Aylesbury and Effingham. Richard was nicknamed as Sacerdos magnus (Chief priest) because of his famous spy's kindness – he never killed and was a very careful, kind spy.

Tigellinus again heard the noise somewhere around. Now he was anxious and frightened. He knew that he wasn't alone in the house. And he knew who came to him – it had to be either Eridanus or Clovis or all together. Tigellinus sprang to his feet and looked around. Then he lit two more candles and illuminated the room. Tigellinus straightened his eyesight and again saw nothing. Everywhere was semidarkness and stillness. Then that stillness was again disquieted by somebody. Somebody was very close to him. Tigellinus was deadly scared, and cold took him to his heart.

"Clovis! Eridanus! Are you here?" the man roared.

The answer was absolute stillness. Tigellinus heard only his own labored breathing. He looked around and saw nothing. Then noise continued approaching him. He definitely wasn't alone in the bedroom. He knew that somebody came to murder him. He knew who came to him – it as a dark, perfect shadow without any face, any voice, and or any other distinguishable features.

"Clovis and Eridanus, let's speak! I want to know who you are," the man cried out in despair.

Again no answer followed. Only silence and semidarkness were around him. And again there was that strange noise in the darkest corner of the room.

Tigellinus was scared to his fingernails. Fear made his mouth went dry. Now he was paralyzed and voiceless. Then he suddenly felt how everything started whirling around him. He was knocked on his head by somebody. He knew that somebody behind him had hit him by a heavy object, perhaps one of the candelabrums on the bedside table. He was caught off-balance and then was hit again, even harder than the first time. After the second punch he lost his conscience, and his heavy body dropped on the floor.

Tigellinus was correct - Clovis and Eridanus were in the same room. They were standing and looking at his unconscious body on the floor. Clovis leaned down and checked the pulse on his neck and on his wrists. As Clovis realized that Tigellinus had been alive, a blood-curdling laugh rang out.

"What a laggard this Tigellinus is," Clovis said.

"What are we going to do now?" Eridanus asked.

Clovis laughed with a devilish laugh. "Give me the poison "_mort inévitable_" that is based on _aconitum napellus_."

"Don't you have any more the English poison "_invisible mors_"?" Eridanus asked.

"Unfortunately, I don't have more. I have only our French "_mort inévitable_". I used the British poison the last time when we killed those British agents in Upper Burma," Clovis explained.

Eridanus chuckled. "It is a great pity because the English poison is stronger. But it should be enough to send this fool Tigellinus to his ancestors."

It was true because "_invisible mors_" used by the English government agent was based on _aconitum ferox_, so-called the Indian aconitum. The French version of aconite-based murderous poison contained a weaker version of aconite native to Western and Central Europe, not India - _aconitum napellus_.

"This idiot will die soon." Clovis lowered the voice. "This worm deserves to be sent to hell, right to damned Silvia. I hope that now she rots in hell," he whizzed.

"You and I will also be in hell for everything we had done," Eridanus said, passing a flacon with the French version of the aconite-based poison – so called "_mort inévitable_". Then Eridanus laughed.

"Hell is on the sinful Earth, not after death," Clovis retorted. Then the agent leaned down, touched the unconscious man's face, parted his lips, and poured the poison into his mouth. "Tigellinus failed our last mission and now we are again at the gunpoint of that British Agnus Dei_._ When I find Agnus Dei, I will personally cut his throat and make him torment. I know that he is man."

"I agree. Agnus Dei should be a man. He is too clever and too professional to be a woman," Eridanus declared.

Clovis kicked the man in his belly by his right leg. "I am fed up with him and how much Agnus Dei had messed up our deals in all the past years. I suspect that agents Jeanne d'Arc who troubled me in British India and Agnus Dei might be the same person."

"Probably, but it is not necessarily so. The British have many great agents."

"This damned British Agnus Dei will pay for the troubles he caused to us,_"_ Clovis pledged.

"Don't forget about agent _Inquisitor_," Eridanus invaded.

Clovis straightened the body and looked up at Eridanus. "Inquisitor is only helping Agnus Dei, but he is also one of the most proficient spies I have ever seen."

"We still don't know who they are. I just know that they are British," Clovis said.

Eridanus raised brows."Are we done here?"

Clovis again laughed. "Yes, we are."

"Is Tigellinus dead?" Eridanus questioned.

Clovis stared at Eridanus. "He will be dead in around twenty minutes. Don't forget that he usually drinks heavily. You know that alcohol reaccelerates the pace of how the body is absorbing aconite. This worm will die soon."

Eridanus raised the brows. "Did you kill Silvia, our dear Agrippina?"

Clovis was laughing uncontrollably for a minute. "Damn Silvia! I hate her so much! I changed the poison in Silvia's medallion right before the wedding. She put some herbs in the medallion, and those herbs could make her seem as though she had died, but after some time she would regain her conscience, I guess, in several days after the acceptance of the herbs. I would love to make her torment and to crucify her, as we had done with the British agents, but I couldn't have left any traces that she hadn't killed herself." Clovis paused and looked down at the man on the floor. "And then Silvia would have escaped to Italy or somewhere else. With all her money, she could go where she wished. In addition, we didn't need Silvia. Besides, she did what she had no right to do."

Eridanus shrugged. "You did the right thing, especially in your situation. You have personal reasons for revenge."

Clovis frowned. "Please don't remind me what Silvia had done to me."

"I am sorry," Eridanus said. "By the way, I put an Indian krait in front of Scarlett's door at _the Hotel Imperial_ in Vienna."

Clovis smiled maliciously. "Excellent! I guess you did that in the daytime as I asked you."

"Naturally, I did as you asked me to do. I couldn't do that in the night because an Indian krait is impassive only in a daytime."

"I don't want Scarlett to die, at least not now," Clovis professed.

"Everything went well. I guess Scarlett was scared to death," Eridanus said.

"Nobody saw you?"

Eridanus grimaced. "You don't trust me after all those years, do you?"

"Of course, I trust you. I just asked."

Eridanus shrugged. "Everything went well, don't worry." Eridanus smiled inauspiciously. "Europe is waiting for our arrival."

Clovis smiled, also with malice. "We can spend time in Europe only till Christmas time."

"Great! In this case will attend the carnival in Toulouse and at the masked ball," Eridanus remarked.

Clovis nodded. "We must be there to meet with our patron, the President of France."

Eridanus gave a nod. "Yes." Eridanus sighed. "I must send another anonymous letter to Annabelle. Scarlett had done too bad thing when she came to Vienna." Eridanus's voice was sodden with exasperation. "Too bad thing," the spy repeated.

"Take it easy. It will help like it helped in 1870 when you blackmailed Annabelle to leave her beloved _Marquis François de Saint-Hérem_," Clovis assured. "Annabelle will never return to him if you continue to blackmail her."

Eridanus smirked. "Of course, I will continue."

"I beg my pardon, but now we must leave."

Eridanus looked at the pocket watch. "Yes, let's go."

An inauspicious, Manichaean smile flashed across Clovis's face as Clovis glared down at the unconscious man. "I am so glad that this idiot will go to hell soon." The agent kicked the main in his belly with all the strength.

Eridanus laughed. "And so am I."

"Let's go. We are boarding the ship in several hours," Clovis stated.

_Ross Duncan Butler_ or Tigellinus became the new victim of Clovis and Eridanus. The question was who would be their next target and whether these people would ever be stopped. Clovis and Eridanus left, as though nobody had ever visited the shabby antebellum house with lop-sided columns – the Dunmore Landing. They were such proficient agents that they disappeared as a shadow in a cloudless day and emerged from nowhere. They were true devil incarnates, both Machiavellian heroes, both embodiment of an evil, material world of darkness.

* * *

_This chapter about Charleston is published from Charleston. Sorry it took me quite a long time to update as I was traveling. _

_I hope that you liked this chapter. I know that there is much information here.__This chapter also answers to many questions you could have in your mind before._

_The chapter gives you the whole story about Ross and Silvia in the form of Ross's memories. _

_Also you know now, Silvia was working with Ross who was her lover and messenger. They spent much time together in the night. So in chapter 20 and several more chapters the cloaked woman and the man were Ross and Silvia as they were in the boat in the night._

_As you see, Silvia didn't kill herself – she was killed by Clovis who changed the poison in her medallion. Remember that the poison in the medallion was different from the Medici's cooper sulphate, and Annabelle and Rhett were talking about it many times. The different poison in the medallion was a hint that everything was much more complicated than it seemed to be._

_Whether Ross will be dead or not, you can infer from this chapter or you must wait. Recall that he took the aconite from Glorificemus or Effingham in the story and took the poison for many months. Now recall that Aylesbury and Effingham discussed many times where Effingham had lost his poison. In the application to Ross's story, you see why I needed this twist with Effingham a long time ago._

_Dear Helen, if you noticed, thanks to you Silvia's surname was changed to "Dawson" instead of the previous "Dawtson". I like "Dawson" more as it sounds better._

_What do you think about my Silvia now? She is such a cunning, evil woman! Rhett was lucky not to marry her because she was Ross's lover. Imagine if Rhett learns that Silvia slept with his younger brother. _

_In the reviews to Chapter 49 when Ross comes to Rhett, Rosemary, and Eleanor after Silvia's death and the bloodshed at the Butler mansion, Ondine guessed that Ross was somehow related to Silvia. I think it was you, Ondine. Later one reader also guessed, but we were keeping it in secret (this reader knows who he/she is)._

_Some summary about the espionage line… Clovis and Eridanus are the infamous and cruel French spies. The agent Maximinus Thrax is the Italian spy, who in reality is Vittorio Amedeo Alberto di Savoia, the Duke of Naples (Silvia says about it to Ross or Tigellinus). Silvia was working under nickname Agrippina, Ross – under nickname Tigellinus. Silvia was a double agent who sold secrets to both France and Italy, betraying her clients._

_Clovis and Eridanus are the most important villains in the story. Now you saw their shadows. So far they were only the shadow villains. They always were behind the mystery and the tragedies in this story. Now they are more or less illuminated in the plot._

_The mentioned British agent Agnus Dei is Philippe, the Duke of Aylesbury. In the next chapter you will see that Agnus Dei or Philippe and Clovis and Eridanus were struggling to the death of each other for many years. The next chapter is about Philippe and Benjamin Disraeli, the British Prime Minister. The next two chapters are heavily laced with historical events in British Asia. A part of Philippe's mystery is also touched._

_This story is like a maze. The intrigues here are very sophisticated. _

_I won't update very quickly in the next month because I am nearly done with Act IV and I am currently in the process of covering all the loopholes in the act, joining all the parts of the intrigue logically. It takes much time, and I won't be in a rush as I want to be sure that the quality is good._

_Maybe now you will be able to guess who Clovis and Eridanus are, but I doubt that you can do it. Please if you are absolutely sure who the villains are send me a private message. Let's not deprive the other readers of the intrigue)))_

_About Georgette and Philippe... Please wait because there will be more about them. Georgette will appear in the second half of Act IV. A glimpse of her was given in chapter 28-29. _

_Maybe you are not with me any longer because this story is long. I am very sorry if you find it long and uninteresting. But it is the plot. This story is an adventurous epic, and it must be long, especially with the mystery weaved in the storyline. _

_I was a little bit bored with the history of the 19th century, so that I started reading the Renaissance history, including the Tudors, just because I like it. _

_Please read and review. I would be very grateful if you could please let me know what you think about the new twists. I hope you are intrigued and like the plot. As for me, I like the mysteries._

_Yours faithfully, Amaranthe_


	78. Chapter 78

**Chapter 78**

**Night in Charleston and morning in Geneva**

One day passed after Clovis and Eridanus had left, and nothing changed. Ross Butler was still on the floor, unconscious, but he didn't die. He was more or less immune to aconite because he had been accepting that poison for quite a long time. In contrast to Ross, his lover Silvia Dawson hadn't been immune to the poison and thus died on the altar of the Church. Ross was unconscious, but at least his body was struggling for survival. He only relapsed into a deeply semi-comatose state.

In Charleston two other men were looking for Ross or Tigellinus. They were two British agents - _Sacerdos magnus (Chief priest_), who in reality was Richard Bradshaw, and _Reminiscere (Call to mind), _who was Richard's messenger Jonathan Rutherford. They had already decoded half of the message sent by Ross to France. In addition, they had already guessed who the messenger Tigellinus had been in reality. Knowing who Tigellinus was in reality, Richard and Jonathan arrived at Dunmore Landing in order to talk to Ross Butler.

As they stepped on the front steps of the old antebellum house, they released a large, specially trained bulldog that was supposed to check the surroundings at the plantation and inside the house. As they were dealing with Eridanus and Clovis, two perfect shadows without any silhouette or any voice, they had to be immensely careful and attentive. Soon the bulldog returned and barked three times, which was a sign that there was nobody inside the building, but that something was wrong.

Richard and Jonathan found Ross or Tigellinus on the floor in his bedroom. Richard sloped down to the unconscious man and checked his pulse on his neck. Then he parted his lips and saw that they were very dry and discolored to the light blue in some parts. Around the man there also were numerous traits of vomiting, which happened even in the man's unconscious state. Richard sighed as he realized that it had been the poison of the French spies, which was based on _aconitum napellus _mixed with _Cantarella_, blue cooper sulfate, and _atropa belladonna_. He knew that Clovis and Eridanus had poisoned Ross Butler.

Richard stared at the man's light blue lips. "It is _aconitum napellus_. His lips are blue, so it cannot be our "_invisible mors_" based on the Indian aconite -_ aconitum ferox._"

Jonathan nodded. "It is the aconite-based poison the French spies use. Otherwise his lips would have been only dry and very dark blue in some parts."

"It means that Clovis and Eridanus were here." Richard cursed.

"It appears so."

"I am sure now these demons are out of the country," Richard stated. His gaze fixed on unconscious Tigellinus. "He is alive. However, he is in a semicomatose state. I think he had been lying here for at least two days before we came here today."

"If he isn't dead yet, then Tigellinus had been taking aconite of any type for a very prolonged time. I am just interested where he found it."

Richard shook his head. "This is precisely what happened. This man is lucky to be alive." He coughed. "We must transport him to my house in Charleston. I have some antidote at home."

"We will have to ask the Foreign Office to deliver antidote from London to Charleston. We have the powder only for ten days, not more. If Tigellinus survives, at least four-five months will pass before he returns to a normal life. His rehabilitation period will be very long."

"At least now we are convinced that Ross Butler was Silvia Dawson's messenger," Richard said with a sigh. "We weren't mistaken."

"Undoubtedly." Jonathan nodded. "We must contact Philippe and somebody from London to ask for the delivery of antidote. Tigellinus is a treasure for us because he can help us discover these damned Eridanus and Clovis."

"I will message Philippe today. He must be in Geneva now," Richard supplied. Then he cast a serious glance at Jonathan. "You know that Clovis is dreaming of killing our agent _Agnus Dei_. Currently, Agnus Dei is working only on one mission – the captivation and the liquidation of Clovis and Eridanus.

"I know, Richard."

"We must contact the Foreign Office immediately."

"Do you know who Agnus Dei is?"

Richard shrugged. "No, I don't know. I only know that Agnus Dei is British and that he is working against Clovis and Eridanus. Only _Queen Victoria_, Benjamin Disraeli and the head of the Foreign Office know who he is."

Agnus Dei was the secret British agent who had been terrorizing Clovis and Eridanus for many years, ruining their plans and trying to trap them. Therefore, Clovis and Eridanus dreamed of settling accounts with Agnus Dei. Clovis had old accounts with Agnus Dei, coming from their time in British Asia, and that agent wholeheartedly hated Agnus Dei. If they only knew who Agnus Dei was in reality, they would never believe that they were struggling against his Grace _Philippe Justin Robillard-Arden, 8th Duke of Aylesbury_. Nobody could imagine that the Duke of Aylesbury was a highly proficient British spy.

"Agnus Dei can be anyone of our great men, including Thomas, Philippe, Julian, Paul, Ian, Henri, and others," Jonathan admitted.

Richard nodded. "Yes." Then his gaze slid to the man on the floor. "We must be very careful. This man is the younger brother of the former husband of one of the Robillard ladies – Madame Scarlett de Bréval."

Jonathan nodded. "Certainly."

"I guess Philippe will take him to London soon."

"If Tigellinus survives through the poisoning," Jonathan added.

"I hope he will," Richard replied. "Now let's transport Mr _Ross Duncan Butler_ to my house."

Richard and Jonathan took Ross Butler under his arms and dragged his body though the room to the door. In total, it took around an hour to drag unconscious Ross to the road where the carriage was waiting for them. Finally they put his body to the carriage and departed from Dunmore Landing. The transportation of Ross's body promised to be a nightmare. They had to put Ross to the boat to cross the river and then again from the boat to another carriage to deliver him from Charleston harbor to Richard's house on the East Battery. A feeling of relief washed over them as they finally delivered Ross Butler to Richard's mansion.

At home, Richard administered antidote to aconite into Ross's body. He decided to give antidote to Ross three times per day to facilitate the cleaning of poor man's body from poisonous toxins. With the same purpose, Richard and Jonathan made Ross drink much liquid. Ross's body was convulsing and extensive vomiting was also observed after he had swallowed liquid. However, the treatment must have been continued. Richard sent a cipher message to the Duke of Aylesbury to Geneva. He also contacted the Foreign Office in London and demanded to provide them with much antidote.

At the same time, it was the warm August morning in Geneva. The Duke of Aylesbury was sitting in the residence of the British Consulate on _Rue de Vermont_. He was going to meet with _Benjamin Disraeli, the British Prime Minister and 1st Earl of Beaconsfield_. The Prime Minister was in Geneva with an official visit.

Geneva was a border town, which was made Christian under the Late Roman Empire and acquired its first bishop at this time. In the Middle Ages, Geneva was ruled by a Count under the Holy Roman Empire until the late 14th century, when the city was finally been given a charter, certifying a high degree of its self-governance. A little later, in the 15th century, _the Grand Council_ was created in the city, thus transferring power and authority to an oligarchic republican government, dominated by the House of Savoy rule. In the first half of the 16th century, the Protestant Reformation reached Geneva, which resulted in religious strife when Savoy rule was thrown off and Geneva was about to join the Swiss Federation. In 1798, France under the regime of Directory annexed Geneva.

Later, at the end of the Napoleonic Wars, as a result of _the Congress of Vienna of 1814–1815_, the territory of Geneva was significantly extended. _The Congress of Vienna_ settled many issues arising from _the French Revolutionary Wars_, _the Napoleonic Wars_, and the dissolution of _the Holy Roman Empire_. The Congress established and guaranteed the neutrality of Switzerland. Geneva was admitted to the Swiss Confederation. Since that time, Geneva had become a politically neutral territory and a lot of diplomatic meetings and conferences took place there.

While the Duke of Aylesbury was waiting for the meeting with the British Prime Minister, he was remembering how he spent the last month since he had left Vienna. Many important events happened with him in the past days, and Aylesbury's mid raced as a huge hurricane.

When Aylesbury arrived in Zurich from Vienna, he met _Rudolph Marsden_, the Duke of Lauderdale's agent. Rudolph was supposed to accompany him to Milan instead of his most entrusted person, James Breckenridge who remained in Vienna to protect Scarlett. In Milan Aylesbury was greeted and embraced by his old friend _Ian Colin Murray, 9th Duke of Lauderdale_, who also worked at the Foreign Office and controlled secret operations in France, Austro-Hungary, Italy, and Switzerland. Lauderdale assigned three other agents to Philippe in order to ensure his safety in Milan.

Both Aylesbury and Lauderdale spent only one week in Milan. During that time, they met with _Vittorio Amedeo Alberto di Savoia, the Duke of Naples_. They played with him at the card table, and Aylesbury crushed Vittorio, which was quite predictable. However, the Duke of Naples only laughed and seemed to enjoy playing with Aylesbury and Lauderdale, even if he was losing. Vittorio was very rich and simply spent money with both hands.

Aylesbury and Lauderdale also attended two entertaining evenings organized by the Duke of Naples, which turned out to be even worse than their own parties at Oxford and the parties of the most notorious _les sauvages nobles_ of London. Both Aylesbury and Lauderdale didn't like that, being more inclined to private entertainments with their mistresses. Vittorio was too wicked and too vicious, and he didn't share Aylesbury and Lauderdale's opinion about privacy. Aylesbury appeased himself that at least his relations with Vittorio had progressed and they began good acquaintances.

By the time when they met Vittorio in Milan, Aylesbury and Lauderdale had already known that his Grace _Duke Vittorio Amedeo di Savoia_ had been Silvia Dawson's Italian client – _Maximinus Thrax_. Vittorio nicknamed himself in the honor of one of the cruelest Roman Emperors – Roman Emperor Maximinus Thrax who had always been blamed for causing the crisis of the 3rd century, largely due to his murders of several dozen of his closest friends, advisers, and benefactors. Lauderdale and Aylesbury joked that Vittorio was codified under this nickname because of his huge height – around seven feet tall, as Roman Emperor Maximinus Thrax was also very tall. It appeared that Silvia or Agrippina and Vittorio or Maximinus Thrax had been working together for about fifteen years. Silvia had been very young when she became involved in the espionage against the United States.

In addition, the Duke of Aylesbury and the Duke of Lauderdale learnt that Vittorio and Silvia had been very distant relatives. Vittorio's mother was a descendant of _Rodrigo Borgia of Aragon_, the son of _Lucrezia Borgia_ and her second husband _Alfonso of Aragon, Prince of Salerno_. One of the daughters of _Rodrigo Borgia of Aragon _was married to someone from the Montecuccoli family, who were Silvia's Italian relatives on her mother's side. Vittorio and Silvia's bloodlines intersected many centuries ago.

Aylesbury had been working in British India starting from 1849. He had seen many events there, including _the Second Opium War of 1856-1860_ and the annexing of Andaman and Nicobar Islands in 1868. In Asia he had been using a codified nickname "_Jeanne d'Arc"_. He took that nickname in the honor of real Jeanne d'Arc who was nicknamed "_the Maid of Orléans" _or_ "La Pucelle d'Orléans"._ It was probably ridiculous, but Philippe associated that nickname with New Orleans where his life had been twisted, where he had died and later resuscitated. That strange association pushed Philippe to take that nickname.

His friend Effingham had being working under a secret nickname "_Arthur Pendragon_" in the honor of the legendary King Arthur who led the defense of Britain against Saxon invaders in the early 6th century. Lauderdale was working under nickname "_Black Prince" _in the honor of _Edward of Woodstock, Prince of Wales, Duke of Cornwall, Prince of Aquitaine_, who was the eldest son of _King Edward III of England_ and his wife _Philippa of Hainault,_ as well as a father to _King Richard II of England_. Aylesbury, Effingham, and Lauderdale or _Jeanne d'Arc, Arthur Pendragon, _and_ Black Prince, _had been like a thunder for many foreign spies in the region.

Later, in 1867, Lauderdale ceased working in British India and began to control a new region for him – Austro-Hungary, Italy, France, and Switzerland. At the same time, Effingham and Aylesbury continued to be special ambassadors in British India, being involved in many secret missions. In 1872, Effingham started combining his activities in British India with controlling British agents in Denmark and Norway.

In 1856, a new French spy appeared in Southeast Asia. That agent used nickname _Clovis_, apparently in the honor of_ Clovis I_ or_ Chlodowech I, _who was the first King of Franks who united all of Frankish tribes under one reign. _Clovis I_ was also the first Christian king to rule the ancient Gaul or France. He also ensured that the kingship had been transferred to his male heirs. Many people thought that that new French spy imagined himself to be the first and unique in the region, the spy whom nobody would ever trap and defeat.

Clovis had been terrorizing the British diplomats and agents throughout the whole _the Second Opium War_ _of 1856-1860_, stealing information for _Napoleon III _and his government. Like _King Clovis I_, Clovis had always left many dead bodies where he or she had passed. Clovis had managed to identify several of Philippe's agents and poisoned them. Clovis had been an embodiment of a wild, evil spy: the agent often hadn't used poison, the same well-known aconite-based _"invisible mors"_, but rather had simply cut throats, crucified, or stabbed his victims in their hearts. Cruel and barbaric, Clovis had left behind dozens of dead bodies in British India.

Clovis was one of the best and the oldest _Napoleon III's_ agents. Among the Foreign Offices of various countries, it had always been rumored that only thanks to Clovis _Napoleon III_ had managed spearheaded allied action against Russian Empire in _the Crimean War of 1853-1856_ and had restored French presence in the _Levant_, claiming for France the role of protector of the _Maronite Christians_. Although it had happened a long time ago, the Foreign Offices had still remembered that fact very well. At least, it was believed that Clovis had done that, but it wasn't proved, but many rumors were floating..

Jeanne d'Arc, Arthur Pendragon, and Black Prince had managed to finish _the Second Opium War_ with significant benefits for France: the opium trade had been legalized; the British, the French, and even the Russian had secured a right to have permanent diplomatic representations in Beijing; the new territory of the British Empire had been annexed – Kowloon, next to Hong Kong; and the Chinese had had to pay huge reparation to both Great Britain and France. The fact that Kowloon had been given to the British Crown had been an overwhelming defeat for Clovis and _Napoleon III_. Clovis had attempted to steal the information many times and to ruin the plans of the British to annex Kowloon, but the agent, who had been codified as Jeanne d'Arc, had ruined Clovis's plans and Clovis's secret operation. Clovis had started hating Jeanne d'Arc since that moment. After that event, Clovis had vanished for some time.

Clovis didn't disappear from British India – the spy had changed the geography and had started operations in _Cochinchina_. Clovis's secret, bloody deals had helped _Napoleon III_ establish French rule in Cochinchina in the aftermath of _the Cochinchina campaign of 1858–1862._ In Cochinchina Clovis hadn't been alone – the agent had been with another super-confidential _Napoleon III's_ spy nicknamed _Eridanus_, which was known to be a constellation. Eridanus was one of the forty eight constellations listed by the 2nd century astronomer Ptolemy, also one of the largest constellations. Finally, in 1864, the three southern provinces of Cochinchina had ceded to France and had formally become the part of the French colony of Cochinchina. Within three years, from 1864 to 1867, France's new colony had doubled in size, and it again happened mainly due to Clovis and Eridanus.

Eridanus had also been known for the participation in the organization of the French intervention in Mexico, which had resulted in _the Franco-Mexican War of 1861-1867_, which, however, had ended with the defeat of France: _Napoleon III_ announced the withdrawal of French forces beginning May 1866. Now Aylesbury knew that it was Silvia Dawson or Agrippina who had helped Eridanus to organize the intervention of France to Mexico. Silvia simply had sold to Eridanus some information, which she had also given to her Italian clients, to Maximums Thrax or _Duke Vittorio Amedeo di Savoia_. However, as the Italians hadn't begun their intervention to Mexico, it was evident that they had realized that something had gone wrong and the French had outpaced them. Silvia Dawson had ruined the planned operation of Italy in Mexico. However, as Silvia had been living till the end of June 1876, it was evident that Maximums Thrax or the Duke of Naples hadn't learnt how Silvia had betrayed him at the beginning of the 1860s.

After the operation in Cochinchina, Clovis had transferred his or her excellent skills to another object – Andaman and Nicobar Islands, which had become an object of argument between Jeanne d'Arc and Clovis. Eridanus had disappeared for some time, presumably being in Mexico. Denmark's presence in the territory had ended formally in October 1868 when it had sold the rights to the Nicobar Islands to Britain. However, before that had happened, Clovis had tried to derail the negotiations between Denmark and Great Britain. Clovis would have succeeded, if British agent Jeanne d'Arc hadn't ruined Clovis's secret mission. As a result, Andaman and Nicobar Islands had been included in British India in 1869. That was the second time when the mighty Clovis had been defeated by Jeanne d'Arc or the Duke of Aylesbury.

After 1869, Clovis had been working very closely with Eridanus. Now their objective had become to ruin the peace in British India. They had been especially aggressive in Upper Burma, which hadn't been the part of British Empire. After _the Second Anglo-Burmese War of 1852_, Lower Burma had been annexed by the British Crown. At the same time, Upper Burma had continued to be independent under the Kingdom of Burma. However, the British Crown had been planning to do everything possible to also annex Upper Burma, but they had wanted to avoid a bloody, long war. Clovis and Eridanus had fomented troubles in the region and had instigated war. Moreover, they had also tried to fuel unrest in Andaman and Nicobar Islands, which had been annexed by Britain in 1869. They have been leading these campaigns since 1869 up to 1876. Aylesbury knew that they were not going to stop.

In 1869, the new system of codifying information was accepted by the Foreign Office of Great Britain. As a result, nicknames of the most important agents were changed and many cipher messages were now codified using a complicate system in Latin. The most important agents received new nicknames on the religious topics. Aylesbury's nickname was changed to _Agnus Dei_ (_The Lamb of God)_. Effingham was _Angelus Domini (A Morning Prayer) _and_ Glorificemus (Let us glorify God) _exclusively for the operation in Charleston where he lost his poison or, more accurately speaking, where the poison was stolen from him by Ross Butler or Tigellinus_. _Lauderdale was _Cantate Domino (A Sing to the Lord)_. James Breckenridge, Aylesbury's main agent, was _Inquisitor_, while Aaron Fitzwarren, Effingham's right hand, was nicknamed _Advocatus Diaboli (Devil's advocate)_.

Starting from 1869, Aylesbury no longer had been specializing exclusively in British India. The reason was that he had been working on a secret, over-confidential project, and he could work everywhere – either in Europe or in British India. He was an agent nicknamed _Agnus Dei_, and he was working only against Clovis and Eridanus. Agnus Dei's assistant was the same James Breckenridge, his main agent, his _Inquisitor_. The conflict was especially harsh between Aylesbury and Clovis, as the tension between them was too strong, given their old-world opposition in British India. Aylesbury's main task in this operation was to captivate at least Clovis and liquidate him or her.

Aylesbury and Clovis had been trying to trap each other for many years, but in the past years their conflict turned much sharper and much more embittered. Aylesbury had set several different complicated, risky traps for Clovis, but everything was in vain: Clovis was like a perfect shadow that emerged from nowhere and disappeared to God knows there. Clovis and Eridanus were also trying to trap Aylesbury, but also without any positive result. Each of them always slipped from each other's traps and eyesight. Each of them was a shadow, an illusion and a game of imagination, especially Clovis and Agnus Dei. It was a cat-and-mouse game, a much more serious game than a game of polite indifference and French courtesy between Scarlett and Rhett, which they had been playing in the autumn of 1875 when they had met in Atlanta and later at Tara. Among Foreign Offices, it was rumored that Clovis had sworn to slash a throat of the British spy Jeanne d'Arc and Agnus Dei – the throat of the Duke of Aylesbury. Aylesbury didn't know whether Clovis had known that Jeanne d'Arc and Agnus Dei had been the same person. Aylesbury explicitly assumed that Clovis had already guessed about that, and both Clovis and Eridanus indeed had certain suspicions.

Between 1869 and 1874, Clovis was not always in British India, and the Duke of Aylesbury knew about that. Clovis spent much time on the continent in Europe, periodically traveling to Lower and Upper Burma and to other regions in British India. At the same time, Eridanus was working in British India, provoking conflicts in the region. Eridanus troubled Aylesbury less than Clovis did. The whole year of 1873 was very dangerous and strained for Clovis, and Aylesbury had almost trapped the French spy, but in the very end Clovis again disappeared, as though being swallowed by darkness of hell. Aylesbury still didn't understand how Clovis had managed to escape from that sophisticated trap he had prepared for his target. As a result, stating from 1874, Clovis disappeared from Europe and reappeared in British India, periodically leaving some traits of his or her existence in Europe.

Aylesbury didn't know who Clovis and Eridanus were. He only guessed that they were former _Napoleon III's_ agents and now agents of _Duke Patrice de Magenta, the President of the Third Republic of France. _Each time when Aylesbury saw _Duke Patrice de Magenta _at balls, routs, card parties, charity events, and art events in Paris or on diplomatic conferences somewhere in Europe, he wanted to laugh aloud. How ironic it was to see the master of both Clovis and Eridanus at balls and at various parties. Aylesbury didn't know who his targets were in reality, but he didn't exclude that he often attended the same parties and balls together with Clovis and Eridanus. He even didn't exclude that either Clovis or Eridanus were around or even among the Robillards or were somehow helped by the Robillards, and that fact was the most dangerous and bitter. Clovis or Eridanus could be either a man or a woman, and they were not necessary to be French. However, Aylesbury was more than sure that Clovis was a man and at least half French by birth. The reason was Clovis's infamous cruelty, as well as in Clovis's evident nostalgia for French monarchy. Aylesbury knew that Clovis had supported the Monarchists.

Now when the situation with Silvia Dawson's deal became critical, which was expressed in the case with an Indian krait in front of Scarlett's suite at _the Hotel Imperial_ and in the fact that _Ross Duncan Butler_ turned out to be Silvia's messenger in Charleston, Aylesbury was more convinced that either Clovis or Eridanus were somehow related to the Robillards or the Butlers. Aylesbury received the message from Richard that Clovis or Eridanus had poisoned Ross Butler by the aconite-based "_invisible mors_" and that Ross Butler had been in a critical state. Actually, Aylesbury was shocked that Ross Butler had indeed been Silvia's messenger who had worked together with her for years. He sent one of his agents to Charleston with the antidote in order to save Ross Butler. Later Aylesbury planned to transport Ross to London and to imprison him in order to interrogate him. Ross could be his link to Clovis and Eridanus, and Aylesbury was going to finish the deal. He was even ready to arrest Rhett Butler if it had been necessary because it had still been unclear whether Rhett Butler had been somehow connected with Clovis or Eridanus. Aylesbury thought that Rhett hadn't ever met with them, but the fact that his brother worked as a spy was very suspicious. Aylesbury was going to be very careful, even more careful than he had ever been. He couldn't harm Scarlett's interests and rish her safety, but he couldn't also do something to blunder away either Clovis or Eridanus or both of them.

Now the Duke of Aylesbury was waiting for the meeting with the British Prime Minister. It wasn't the first planned meeting because Philippe had already met Disraeli several days ago when he told the Prime Minister the whole story about Silvia Dawson's deal. Philippe felt nervous because it was supposed that now Disraeli would decide with whom Aylesbury would continue working on his hazardous projects. It was a very sensitive issue for Aylesbury, and he hoped that Effingham and Lauderdale would be his partners. He desperately hoped that he wouldn't have to travel to British India in the coming months. However, such a necessity could have arisen because Clovis and Eridanus were doing everything possible to unleash the war-related mood in Upper Burma and in Andaman and Nicobar Islands.

The clerk's voice returned the Duke of Aylesbury to reality. He was invited to the large reception room on the third floor. He quickly ascended the stairs and turned to the left. They passed several official rooms in the Neo-Renaissance Style and stopped near the heavy wooden door. The clerk knocked at the door, and a sonorous, impressive voice answered that they must come inside. The clerk opened the door and Aylesbury went inside.

Aylesbury looked around and saw an old man sitting in the armchair at a large wooden desk with huge piles of paper. _Benjamin Disraeli_ looked between seventy and eighty years old. He was an impressive gentleman with a receding, grizzled hairline, but his hair was still thick, despite his age. His coal eyes were tired, yet wise, his forehead – very mighty and high. The corners of his mouth were turned slightly upward in a weary smile. Despite his age, he kept his representativeness and the air of respectability in his image. His face was more like a mask than ever, as though the division between him and mere mortals had been more marked.

Benjamin Disraeli was a unique man. Everybody in Great Britain thought so, and the Duke of Aylesbury wasn't an exception. Disraeli had a multitude of great qualities, and all of them had fitted him for his life. He was a great linguist and had a wonderfully well-stored memory. He had great self-assurance and self-respect. Throughout all his life, Disraeli's manners were pleasant and easy, and he had all social graces and refinements. At times he could behave rather dramatic and even theatrical, even at his job of a parliamentarian. When he was young, he was very handsome: his face was expressive and memorable, always remarkable through its pallor; his features were chiseled and delicate, framed in raven curls, while the depth of his nearly black eyes could unleash any imagination. His handsomeness and representativeness, along with the airs of self-confidence, were kept throughout his life and made even old Disraeli a very remarkable man. Disraeli had always been a master of art of both self-defense and self-confidence. In politics he had always been a hard, great rider, and his undeniable wit and sarcasm, his poetical perception and at times theatrical performance, coupled with unbounded ambition and audacity, made their deal – he was an excellent politician who climbed the ladder from a usual clerk to the British Prime Minister. The great power, ultimately achieved by him, was won through his originality, his well-thought political strategy, and even his independence, which at times only harmed his political career, but he still preferred his freedom.

Benjamin Disraeli was the son of the Jewish writer _Isaac Disraeli_. Despite his Jewish birth, he was a devout Anglican since his baptism at age of twelve years old. When he was young, Disraeli was a law apprentice, journalist. He was even a publisher and a novelist, and his novels were unforgettable as they were always written in a romantic, witty, even whimmy manner. As a young man, he was often noted during his visits of fashionable salons of London with his various mistresses, dressed in eccentric clothing. Soon he traveled around Europe and visited Spain, Turkey and the Balkans as a means of recuperation in the aftermath of a serious mental decease.

When Disraeli returned to England in 1832, he suddenly decided to enter politics. However, as in 1832 he offered himself as an independent candidate for the borough of High Wycombe, he was unsuccessful in securing a seat. He tried five times and wad defeated five times at his standing for the Parliament. At the same time, Disraeli continued his career as a novelist and quickly became known in London through his writings, like "_Vivian Grey_", "_Sybil_," and "_Tancred_". Disraeli's pamphlets and letters to the London Times were retold by the members of the House of Commons as they included many interesting theses of his own personal Conservative philosophy. His career as a journalist and a liberator eventually helped him to be elected as a member for Maidstone in 1837. The most paradoxical thing was that he had nearly ruined his political career after his debut speech. The reason was that his clothes had been too unusual and too unorthodox, while his long black ringlets had made him look ridiculous as a politician, as many witnesses said. As a result, he had been jeered at by the other members of the House. It was well known that Disraeli answered to the jokes about him: "The time will come when you will hear me."

As the Duke of Aylesbury arrived in London in 1845, he began to watch Disraeli's movements in politics, although he had never been interested in a career of a parliamentarian. He was fascinated by Disraeli. Very soon after his failure after his debut speech, Disraeli was elected as member for Shrewsbury. At that time, he had already been regarded as a very witty, sarcastic, and exceptionally clever Tory. Disraeli made numerous pertinacious, vitriolic parliamentary attacks on the Tory chief _Sir Robert Peel, 2nd Baronet_, which eventually led to the fall of the Tory government. As a result, Disraeli became the leader of the Conservative Party, which, however, failed to secure power in the Parliament. Later, in 1852, _Edward George Geoffrey Smith-Stanley, 14th Earl of Derby_, offered Disraeli to become the Chancellor of the Exchequer, and Disraeli accepted. As a consequence, he held this position within all of Derby's ministries. Later Disraeli was very lucky: through this post of the Chancellor of the Exchequer Disraeli he met _Queen Victoria_ who was fascinated by him from the first glance. Their mutual and sympathetic understanding lasted throughout his whole political career. When the Earl of Derby resigned in February 1868, _Queen Victoria_ asked Disraeli to become the British Prime Minister.

However, Disraeli wasn't the Prime Minister for a long time as the government was defeated in the same year of 1868 by the parliamentary opposition led by _William Ewart Gladstone_, an infamous British Liberal statesman. Throughout the next six years there was fierce competition between Gladstone and Disraeli, and finally Disraeli defeated Gladstone, who was in apparent dislike by _Queen Victoria_. Next time Disraeli became the Prime Minister in 1874 when he was seventy years of age old. In 1876, after nearly forty years in the House of Commons, Benjamin Disraeli secured the title of the Earl of Beaconsfield and moved to the House of Lords.

Benjamin Disraeli looked at the Duke of Aylesbury, his black wise eyes smiling at his guest. "Good morning, your double Grace." He was grinning at Aylesbury who has just received the second dukedom for his eldest son Jasper Robillard-Arden.

Aylesbury smiled, his black eyes sparkling with liveliness. "Good morning, your lordship," he said and bowed very low to Disraeli.

A sly grin crossed Disraeli's face. He took in Aylesbury's attire: his light grey three-piece suit; his white shirt with the high collar, with the wristbands trimmed with ruffles and Milanese laces and two tiers of ruffles cascade down the front, above the waistcoat; his black top hat, and the golden puff tie with two diamond studs.

"Your Grace, please sit down closer to me. The closer, the better, your double Grace," the Prime Minister instructed.

Aylesbury bowed again. Then he took place at the armchair near the Prime Minister. "Thank you, your lordship."

"You are welcome, your double Grace," Disraeli smirked. He folded his hands behind his head and leaned back in his armchair. "As I see, your double Grace, you are again an epitome of the Victorian fashion and the fashionable trends of the late 18th century. Did you buy this day suit in Milan? I think the laces are Milanese."

Aylesbury's lips twisted in a sardonic smile. This was classic Disraeli, always original and easy-going, always witty and sarcastic. "Exactly," he said. "I bought these items in Milan two weeks ago."

"Very well, Aylesbury. It is better to be a little eccentric and still fashionable, but individual."

Aylesbury laughed merely. "Your lordship, I am very delighted to meet you today."

The Prime Minister chuckled. "Your Grace, I am happy to finally see an emotion on your handsome face, still young face." His tone underscored the last words.

A smile couldn't be gone from Aylesbury's face at that moment. "Others think that I am dispassionate, your lordship."

"It doesn't matter what others think. They just envy you." Disraeli leaped to his feet. He smiled and offered his hand to Aylesbury. "The Duke of Aylesbury, I am very happy to see you."

Aylesbury also rose to his feet and took Disraeli's hand. They shook their hands. "The pleasure is mutual." And it was truth – both Aylesbury and Disraeli had always been on good terms.

Disraeli settled back in his armchair. "I think that now we should leave all these formalities, Philippe. We have many things to discuss. The situation is very complicated and dangerous." Disraeli always addressed to Philippe simply by his first name, but it happened only in strict privacy.

"Unfortunately, it is true, your lordship."

"Philippe, you can address to me in an informal way, especially given the fact that I became the Earl only this year. I know pretty well that you have always been a very reserved, formal gentleman, but it is not necessary with me," Disraeli commented. "You can call me simply Mr Disraeli or better simply Benjamin, like it had been before I became the Earl of Beaconsfield. You know that I had always had a particular affection to you and your friends, Lauderdale and Effingham. You could have been my son, whom I had never had."

"Thank you for your high estimate," Aylesbury said in a less formal tone.

Disraeli grinned at him. He dramatically clapped his hands. "Oh God! At least his double Grace began to talk in a less ceremonious tone."

Aylesbury turned his boldest gaze upon the Prime Minister and smiled heartily. "Benjamin, I would like to thank you for your help with granting to the Robillard-Ardens, to my son Jasper, a second dukedom," he finally said. "If not for you, I am sure that my friends and I would have been granted nothing."

"I am glad that we are done with formalities," Disraeli said and smiled warmly. "We have always been a sort of friends, even when I wasn't a Prime Minister."

Aylesbury nodded. "Yes."

"Philippe, you are not right in the fact that without me you would never have a second dukedom. It was her Imperial Majesty _Queen Victoria_'s wish after she had become the Empress of India in May. Throughout the years you had been doing so much for the country in British India," Disraeli said.

"Thank you for your kind words," Aylesbury replied.

"Philippe, the situation around Mrs Silvia Dawson and around our friends Clovis and Eridanus is very dangerous." The term "friends" was very witty and sarcastic.

"Unfortunately, it is true."

"I became the British Prime Minister for the second time in 1874. At that moment, I was immediately charged with the secret mission you have being undertaking against the French agents Clovis and Eridanus. So far we have nothing new and nothing useful, which could give us any clue how to trap them. They escaped several complicated traps we prepared for them, especially for Clovis, and in 1874 Clovis disappeared. Then Clovis reappeared in Upper Burma and in January 1875 three our agents, highly professional agents, were poisoned by their own poison – the aconite-based "_invisible mors_." In June 1875 you and I nearly trapped them in Andaman and Nicobar Islands, but they again disappeared, while Clovis cut throats of three our agents. In total, starting from 1874, we lost six agents." Disraeli trailed off.

"And later James and I trapped and liquidated four of Clovis's people," Aylesbury added.

Disraeli looked at Aylesbury. "Do you know that Clovis had pledged to personally crucify you or slash your throat when he or she captures Agnus Dei or you, Philippe?"

Aylesbury nodded. "I know about Clovis's oath. It is a personal revenge for what I had done to him in British India."

"To him?"

"I am sure that Clovis is French and that he is a man. In addition, we know that Clovis and Eridanus had always had an aura of specialness around them. At first, they had been controlled by _Napoleon III_. Later then came to the direct submission of _Duke Patrice de Magenta, the President of the Third Republic._"

"As always, you think that Clovis is a man because of his cruelty," Disraeli concluded.

"It is partly so."

"Any further thoughts, Philippe?"

Aylesbury nodded. "Exactly."

"What are you thinking about?"

Aylesbury swallowed hard. "I am sure that this man is from the French high society. He cannot be a simple commoner because he knows too much about French elite. I even don't exclude that this person is very close to the Robillards or is one of them."

The Prime Minister glared inquisitively at Aylesbury. His black eyes turned contemplative. "Philippe, what will you do if either Clovis or Eridanus is somebody from the Robillards?"

"I will do what I must do," Aylesbury said after a short pause.

"What, Philippe?" Disraeli pressed on.

"Without any thoughts, I will liquidate Clovis and Eridanus, although it might be not easy for me," Aylesbury answered without any hesitation. However, he sighed heavily and lost his composure, which was noticed by the Prime Minister.

"A liar," Disraeli said softly. "I know that you will think what to do. I hear you struggle for breath now as you are going to cover your duplicity from me. You can hide it from the outside world, but not from me who knows your entire story, my dear Philippe Robillard of Savannah."

A touch of anxiety flashed in Aylesbury's black eyes. "I know who I am. I have never forgotten my true name, which, I however, cannot use. Now, after so many years, it doesn't matter."

"Philippe, it matters for you, and I know this. When I was the Prime Minister for the first time and we just began this deal with Clovis and Eridanus, _Queen Victoria_ told me your story in private. Since then, I have been watching you. I know what bothers you."

And it was true. Very few people knew Aylesbury's secret, but _Queen Victoria_ who issued a special directive covering the transmission of the title of the Duke of Aylesbury in case of adoption had known it from the very beginning. Benjamin Disraeli, _Queen Victoria's_ favorite and very close friend, had known the secret as well. But the secret was safe with him.

"It doesn't bother me," Aylesbury pressed on.

"A liar," Disraeli repeated, in the same friendly, soft manner.

* * *

_I know that this chapter is not easy to read and remember. However, it is necessary to understand the framework of espionage line in the story. Here many shadowy things in Philippe's life were disclosed. His life as a spy was colorfully described. As I couldn't make him a spy in the United States or in Europe, I had to think about more exotic options, and British India came to my attention. Therefore, this chapter is heavily laced with the history of British India. _

_The described events in British India are historically correct. The espionage line is organically embedded into the real history._

_I have always been fascinated with Benjamin Disraeli. If I am introducing a real historical hero into the story, I cannot avoid giving you the details about this hero. I read a lot about Disraeli and tried to portray him as close to a real character as possible. He was a very clever man, but his behavior often was special and eccentric. _

_In the next chapter Philippe will discuss with Disraeli his life story, his mystery, and Clovis and Eridanus. They will also discuss the situation with Ross Butler. _

_Clovis and Eridanus are very connected with Scarlett and Rhett and the Robillards. They are preparing a great surprise for everybody._

_What you are reading now is just the framework for what will happen soon._

_Scarlett and Rhett reappear after the next chapter. Then they won't disappear from your eyesight for at least ten chapters. The current chapters are necessary to explain what was going on a shadowy background of the whole story._

_I know that you probably want Rhett and Scarlett. However, this story has many lines, so some chapters must be devoted to other events. But everything is very much connected with Rhett and Scarlett. All the events with Clovis and Eridanus will unfold around Rhett and Scarlett. _

_I will try to update as soon as I can. I am going to write now because I am having an afflux of inspiration._

_I have been speaking French for more than two months. Even in the US I traveled with my French relatives and French friends, so that I mainly spoke French. Currently I am adapting to English, and it is always hard for me to shift from French to English. Yesterday, I caught myself talking in French when I needed English. I truly h__ope that this chapter doesn't have any traits of French... In a week or so I won't be suffering so much and will be updating more quickly._

_Please read and review. I would be very grateful if you could please let me know what you think about the new twists. I hope you are intrigued and like the plot._

_Yours faithfully, Amaranthe_


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